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Reviews7
ch77's rating
I get excited about new Almodovar films, which is not always the most advised way to approach any cinematic release. Those opening moments are too tension-filled as I wait in fear that this will be the film where the magic finally disappears. Is that dialogue a little forced? This scenario too familiar? Its a bit like watching a new Woody Allen film, only in reverse.
In its opening scenes, Broken Embraces both unsettles and reassures. We open with a male. His name is Mateo Blanco and he is a director. His name is also Harry Caine and he is blind. The fear subsides a little. We are clearly back in the world of Almodovar, with its convoluted plots and its noirish mysteries. The name Harry Caine alone cues us to expect a feast for the cine-literates, with its noir associations from Double Indemnity to The Third Man. Indeed we have been here before, as recently as Bad Education, in which Almodovar dazzled us with noirish flashbacks within flashbacks and duplicitous identity thefts. And it is to this strand in his work that Broken Embraces belongs, rather than the women centred melodramas with which he is more often associated.
But we remain uneasy. The film references begin to stack up - with nods to everything from Belle du Jour to Peeping Tom. Moving back and forward in time, the mystery of Blanco/Caine's blindness and his double monicker begin to unfold. We meet Penelope Cruz as devoted daughter, high-class hooker, and an Almodovar-esquire character in an Almodovar-esquire comedy in which her character acts. The film exploits the twin-sides of Cruz's character which Almodovar has mined in the past; the angelic nun of All About My Mother and the fiery Spanish mama of Volver, the Madonna and the whore. She is the femme in this noir fatale. And who could blame Mateo/Harry for falling, although we know of course how things will turn out.
The pleasure in noir is in watching it all go wrong for the central protagonist. As soon as Barabara Stanwyck or Lana Turner slinks into camera shot, we know our man is doomed. Whether he's a private investigator or an insurance salesman, the poor schmuck doesn't stand a chance. But all he can think about are her legs. And all we can think about are her legs too, so we understand why he might just throw away his life for a moment alone with them. And the girl knows it too, just what she can take from any man in return for a glimpse of thigh. But there is another pleasure in noir too, and its a vindictive mysognistic one. It comes from the pain in Stanwyck's face as her man slugs her with a 45, the screams of Jane Greer as she dies in a hail of bullets. Its our revenge on her for knowing how to get to us, for using her sexuality to take back a little of the power that rightfully belongs with our hero, the conquering male of the cinematic world.
But Almodovar could never bring himself to treat women in this way. In Bad Education it is the coquettish Gael Garci Bernal that uses his sexuality as a lure. And it is love, not lust, that draws Mateo towards Cruz's Lena. The threat comes, not from her sexuality, but the overpowering jealousy of her millionaire lover, from whom she is unable to escape. Almodovar clearly cares too much for Cruz to allow her motives to be impuned in any way. And although this brings a roundness and sensitivity to the central character, instead of reducing her to an image of dangerous sexuality, it also causes the tension in the film to ebb. The central characters are in love. And if that love is to be doomed, as we know it must be, then the cause of that doom will come from outside, from some plot contrivance, rather than from inside the characters themselves. Unlike the character of classic noir, they are too fundamentally good to cause their own downfall.
Given the intricacies of the plot of Broken Embraces; the shifts in time, the film within a film, the complex set of character relationships; its problem lies with the ability of the narrative to tie it all together, to make us care. For me, the mystery was not quite mysterious enough. The revelations not sufficiently shocking to make the whole elaborate puzzle seem worthwhile. There is undoubtedly a lot to enjoy in here. At times it feels like an extended riff on the art of filmmaking, with which Almodovar is clearly having great fun. And his enjoyment rubs off on the viewer too. The extended extract from Mateo's film, which is an almost shot for shot remake of Women on The Verge of a Nervous Breakdown, is worth the admission price alone. But there is a ragged quality, a sense that the parts overwhelm the whole, which, along with the film's uncertain relationship to noir, prevent it from fully cohering. In short, its no All About My Mother, but then its no Kika either. I'm already looking forward to his next one.
In its opening scenes, Broken Embraces both unsettles and reassures. We open with a male. His name is Mateo Blanco and he is a director. His name is also Harry Caine and he is blind. The fear subsides a little. We are clearly back in the world of Almodovar, with its convoluted plots and its noirish mysteries. The name Harry Caine alone cues us to expect a feast for the cine-literates, with its noir associations from Double Indemnity to The Third Man. Indeed we have been here before, as recently as Bad Education, in which Almodovar dazzled us with noirish flashbacks within flashbacks and duplicitous identity thefts. And it is to this strand in his work that Broken Embraces belongs, rather than the women centred melodramas with which he is more often associated.
But we remain uneasy. The film references begin to stack up - with nods to everything from Belle du Jour to Peeping Tom. Moving back and forward in time, the mystery of Blanco/Caine's blindness and his double monicker begin to unfold. We meet Penelope Cruz as devoted daughter, high-class hooker, and an Almodovar-esquire character in an Almodovar-esquire comedy in which her character acts. The film exploits the twin-sides of Cruz's character which Almodovar has mined in the past; the angelic nun of All About My Mother and the fiery Spanish mama of Volver, the Madonna and the whore. She is the femme in this noir fatale. And who could blame Mateo/Harry for falling, although we know of course how things will turn out.
The pleasure in noir is in watching it all go wrong for the central protagonist. As soon as Barabara Stanwyck or Lana Turner slinks into camera shot, we know our man is doomed. Whether he's a private investigator or an insurance salesman, the poor schmuck doesn't stand a chance. But all he can think about are her legs. And all we can think about are her legs too, so we understand why he might just throw away his life for a moment alone with them. And the girl knows it too, just what she can take from any man in return for a glimpse of thigh. But there is another pleasure in noir too, and its a vindictive mysognistic one. It comes from the pain in Stanwyck's face as her man slugs her with a 45, the screams of Jane Greer as she dies in a hail of bullets. Its our revenge on her for knowing how to get to us, for using her sexuality to take back a little of the power that rightfully belongs with our hero, the conquering male of the cinematic world.
But Almodovar could never bring himself to treat women in this way. In Bad Education it is the coquettish Gael Garci Bernal that uses his sexuality as a lure. And it is love, not lust, that draws Mateo towards Cruz's Lena. The threat comes, not from her sexuality, but the overpowering jealousy of her millionaire lover, from whom she is unable to escape. Almodovar clearly cares too much for Cruz to allow her motives to be impuned in any way. And although this brings a roundness and sensitivity to the central character, instead of reducing her to an image of dangerous sexuality, it also causes the tension in the film to ebb. The central characters are in love. And if that love is to be doomed, as we know it must be, then the cause of that doom will come from outside, from some plot contrivance, rather than from inside the characters themselves. Unlike the character of classic noir, they are too fundamentally good to cause their own downfall.
Given the intricacies of the plot of Broken Embraces; the shifts in time, the film within a film, the complex set of character relationships; its problem lies with the ability of the narrative to tie it all together, to make us care. For me, the mystery was not quite mysterious enough. The revelations not sufficiently shocking to make the whole elaborate puzzle seem worthwhile. There is undoubtedly a lot to enjoy in here. At times it feels like an extended riff on the art of filmmaking, with which Almodovar is clearly having great fun. And his enjoyment rubs off on the viewer too. The extended extract from Mateo's film, which is an almost shot for shot remake of Women on The Verge of a Nervous Breakdown, is worth the admission price alone. But there is a ragged quality, a sense that the parts overwhelm the whole, which, along with the film's uncertain relationship to noir, prevent it from fully cohering. In short, its no All About My Mother, but then its no Kika either. I'm already looking forward to his next one.
This film has to be a contender for least deserving Best Picture winner of all time. If only those cowboys in Brokeback Mountain hadn't been so, well, gay...
It tackles the issue of racism in American society with all the insight of a bad high-school essay. Some whites are prejudiced against blacks and think they're all criminals, but then some really are criminals. And some blacks are prejudiced against whites. But then some whites aren't very nice. etc. etc. When the film finished with an incidence of racism between a Latino and a black character, I realised that deep down, inside of us, we really are all the same. Beautiful.
As ever for a Hollywood movie, it can't conceive of political issues outside of the personal. Thus, the racism of Mat Dillon's cop is explained in terms of his own father's experience rather than as an expression of any kind of structural prejudice in American society.
One can only imagine the level of self-congratulation which must have been felt by all those involved. That's racism sorted. Now how about a nice movie showing how much we care about those gays? Just mind that there's no sex between men though. That really kills your Oscar chances.
It tackles the issue of racism in American society with all the insight of a bad high-school essay. Some whites are prejudiced against blacks and think they're all criminals, but then some really are criminals. And some blacks are prejudiced against whites. But then some whites aren't very nice. etc. etc. When the film finished with an incidence of racism between a Latino and a black character, I realised that deep down, inside of us, we really are all the same. Beautiful.
As ever for a Hollywood movie, it can't conceive of political issues outside of the personal. Thus, the racism of Mat Dillon's cop is explained in terms of his own father's experience rather than as an expression of any kind of structural prejudice in American society.
One can only imagine the level of self-congratulation which must have been felt by all those involved. That's racism sorted. Now how about a nice movie showing how much we care about those gays? Just mind that there's no sex between men though. That really kills your Oscar chances.
Whilst credit must go to the filmmakers for actually getting Anton produced, sadly they have not done themselves any real favours by putting this story up on the big screen.
Whilst there are certainly moments in the film which work, overall it is simply a mess. Watching it, I wondered at times whether this was in fact an experimental avant-garde piece masquerading as a mainstream thriller. That seemed to be the only possible explanation for the missing plot points, lack of character motivation and general incoherence of the film. However, in truth, this is nothing more than a collection of scenes in search of a script review.
To give an example: at a mid-point in the film Anton escapes from prison. In the next scene he enters what seems to be an abandoned warehouse and takes a gun from a toilet cistern before being confronted and chased by two police officers. We have never seen this location before. It is not explained why there is a gun in the cistern or how Anton knew it was there. We do not know how the police tracked him to this location. We are simply asked to accept that this is so and move on. Apparently the film is based on the writer's own experience, so perhaps he knows the answers to these questions, but a simple review by an experienced script editor would have pointed out that its quite important for the audience to know these things too.
In short, there are suggestions that the filmmakers could do better work in the future, but as an overall piece of work this film is seriously flawed.
Whilst there are certainly moments in the film which work, overall it is simply a mess. Watching it, I wondered at times whether this was in fact an experimental avant-garde piece masquerading as a mainstream thriller. That seemed to be the only possible explanation for the missing plot points, lack of character motivation and general incoherence of the film. However, in truth, this is nothing more than a collection of scenes in search of a script review.
To give an example: at a mid-point in the film Anton escapes from prison. In the next scene he enters what seems to be an abandoned warehouse and takes a gun from a toilet cistern before being confronted and chased by two police officers. We have never seen this location before. It is not explained why there is a gun in the cistern or how Anton knew it was there. We do not know how the police tracked him to this location. We are simply asked to accept that this is so and move on. Apparently the film is based on the writer's own experience, so perhaps he knows the answers to these questions, but a simple review by an experienced script editor would have pointed out that its quite important for the audience to know these things too.
In short, there are suggestions that the filmmakers could do better work in the future, but as an overall piece of work this film is seriously flawed.