Review: Talk to Her

A story of two men (Lonely but outwardly caring and genial nurse Javier Camara and sensitive journo Dario Grandinetti) and the two comatose women they love (dancer Leonor Watling and female bullfighter Rosario Flores, respectively), albeit in very, very different fashions as neither woman is expected to make any sort of recovery. Camara (who spent most of his life looking after his mother) loved but barely even knew Watling before an accident struck her down, and he has attended to her ever since. The two men, meanwhile, form a bond as Camara (who is rather obsessively in love with Watling, but clearly a devoted and well-meaning sort) attempts to get the more pessimistic Grandinetti to converse with his loved one, no matter how hopeless their circumstance appears to be. Geraldine Chaplin plays Watling’s rather maternal dance teacher, whilst Elena Anaya turns up briefly as Grandinetti’s ex.

 

In addition to being my favourite Pedro Almodovar film, 2011’s “The Skin I Live In” was a film that seemed to pretty much perfectly blend the raunchy and controversial ‘early’ Almodovar films with his more recent, critically acclaimed character pieces like “All About My Mother”. This 2002 film from the writer-director seems like a dry run for “The Skin I Live In”. It’s far more of the latter day ‘mature’ Almodovar than the early ‘bad boy of Spanish Cinema’ Almodovar, and although a solid film overall, one element stops it from being something more. One important character’s inappropriate and unforgiveable actions, no matter how noble the motives might have been (and I won’t endeavour to spoil anything here), throw the film out of whack, not to mention they might reveal a thing or two about the director himself (who does tend to make his films personal, so it’s fair game to at least wonder). Up until this point, not only was the film really moving and interesting (especially any scenes involving the care of the two patients), but the character in question seemed thoroughly sympathetic- even though there was always something slightly ‘off’ about him. It didn’t render the rest of the film unwatchable, in fact, it was still an entertaining viewing with interesting things to say about masculinity in particular, but...it went in a different direction that although I understand why Almodovar took things in this direction, I’m not entirely sure it was helpful nor was it preferable. I think if Almodovar had stopped just short of where he takes it, the film wouldn’t lose a damn thing for it, even if he’d need to tweak the climax and ending. The unsavoury character development actually reminded me of a more serious version of Antonio Banderas’ character in Almodovar’s unforgettably kinky “Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down!”.

 

But look, this was a mostly pretty strong film with especially good work by Javier Camara (and his puppy dog eyes), the always fine Geraldine Chaplin (perfectly cast), and Leonor Watling’s fantastic breasts. Hey, they’re clearly important to Almodovar (not unknown for treating the female form in a rather fetishistic manner), so I feel I have a right to mention their impact on me, too. They left quite an impression, let me tell you (The similarly bodacious Elena Anaya, meanwhile, has a small role here and starred in “The Skin I Live In”, as did Marisa Paredes who has a cameo here). Grandinetti, meanwhile, is also very empathetic and easy to take to as the frequently tearful, sensitive journalist.

 

The best moment in the entire film, although tonally off-key perhaps, is a brilliantly funny and frankly juvenile silent film fantasy that simply has to be seen to be believed. No, it doesn’t really belong here thematically or narratively (though I suppose in a way it provides a clue to the character twist I had issues with now that I think about it), but it’s Almodovar, you’ve gotta cut the guy some slack. Besides, it was insanely pervy and just plain wonderful.

 

A solid film that could’ve been even more than that if not for an unfortunate turn of events that I’m not entirely sure was necessary. I also didn’t much take to the dance pieces in the film, that kind of pretentiously art flailing about called ‘interpretive dance’ (Which I call ‘making shit up’- That won’t offend anyone, right?). Still, it’s a must-see film for Almodovar fans, who I’m sure have already seen it anyway. At least it’s not remotely boring (few Almodovar films could be accused of that, whatever their merits). Meanwhile, I’m hoping Almodovar one day makes a full-length silent homage to “The Incredible Shrinking Man” after seeing the infamous segment in this film (Those who go for symbolism will be in heaven during this film and in this segment in particular).

 

Rating: B-