It took a while...but, the wait is finally over...Pedro Almodóvar is back...with - without a shadow of doubt - inarguably, his best [and most mature] film [to date].
It happens to everyone, when we reach a certain age...those moments of reflection and recollection that continually [and gently] lap into your consciousness. Memories, part forgotten, always remembered...of lost lovers, faded friends, youthful mistakes and temporary triumphs. Oooh...the pain...that has acquiesced into a tolerable regret. Aaah...the glory of those yester-happy-days, feasts for thought...with side dishes of smiles and tears. Life...what a wonderful, arduous journey it is.
Señor Almodóvar captures it all and covers it all...with cinematic glory. This is a beauty to watch. A gem to listen to...and, a bitter-sweet thrill to experience. When autobiography is mixed with tragic fiction...those lines [of truth] become [all] fuzzy with feeling. Flashbacks to the idyll of childhood pitted against the reality of the now...Penélope Cruz [simply] dazzles, Antonio Banderas [ruefully] embraces...the memories, the decline, the here-and-now...with drug-addled dignity, suffering and suffrage. This is a performance not to be missed, this is an actor's finest moment.
Both human and inhumane...compare and contrast, the ravages that make life so hard-line and fine...this is what Señor Almodóvar has achieved.
The highest [really, the pinnacle] of praise.
A film director reflects on the choices he's made in life as past and present come crashing down around him.