Almodóvar's colours are so glowing and rich and gorgeous I found myself forgetting to read the subtitles once or twice. How does he get colours like that? It can't just be a matter of film stocks. I wish I could speak Spanish. I wouldn't have to look away; I could bask completely, not just intermittently, in the warmth - which is what the film is there for.
Only one of the criticisms I've seen levelled at "All About My Mother" strikes me as more than merely flippant or ridiculous - Mike D'Angelo pointed it out in a short review, and much as I love the film, I must admit he has a point, one I ought to have noticed. To quote: "... the celebratory, groovy-woman-power ethos that permeates the film is somewhat inimical to drama ... The women of Mother are so unfailingly resilient and benevolent and - there's really no other word but 'fabulous' - that the picture never achieves a real sense of urgency..."
Ya got me. It doesn't. Of course, now that I realise that there's less dramatic tension than their ought to be, I don't love the film any less. I don't even miss the dramatic tension (which would, nonetheless, help if it were there). Partly it's because of the colours. Almodóvar has made a film for us to wallow in; and if that's all we can do with it, at least the luscious colours - along with the music, and truly lovable, rather than merely eccentric and fascinating, characters - allow us to wallow properly.
I will say that those who think Almodóvar has wimped out and become politically correct are utterly wrong. Political correctness has nothing to do with content; it has everything to do with treading gingerly and being stilted. All About My Mother, stilted? Rubbish - it's heartfelt, and Almodóvar's direction is as sure-footed and fluent as ever.
Only one of the criticisms I've seen levelled at "All About My Mother" strikes me as more than merely flippant or ridiculous - Mike D'Angelo pointed it out in a short review, and much as I love the film, I must admit he has a point, one I ought to have noticed. To quote: "... the celebratory, groovy-woman-power ethos that permeates the film is somewhat inimical to drama ... The women of Mother are so unfailingly resilient and benevolent and - there's really no other word but 'fabulous' - that the picture never achieves a real sense of urgency..."
Ya got me. It doesn't. Of course, now that I realise that there's less dramatic tension than their ought to be, I don't love the film any less. I don't even miss the dramatic tension (which would, nonetheless, help if it were there). Partly it's because of the colours. Almodóvar has made a film for us to wallow in; and if that's all we can do with it, at least the luscious colours - along with the music, and truly lovable, rather than merely eccentric and fascinating, characters - allow us to wallow properly.
I will say that those who think Almodóvar has wimped out and become politically correct are utterly wrong. Political correctness has nothing to do with content; it has everything to do with treading gingerly and being stilted. All About My Mother, stilted? Rubbish - it's heartfelt, and Almodóvar's direction is as sure-footed and fluent as ever.