Review of Talk to Her (2002) by Daniel S — 11 May 2010

3.5 Stars out of 4.

WWhat makes Pedro Almodóvar's films so effective is that he explores melodrama but he does not makes his films about melodrama. He gives freelance to his actors. They act and he directs. It creates a passionate story. A director with clear-cut confidence. In his 2002 work Talk To Her, Almodóvar finds this deep compassion in his characters. They're chemistry pulses and it seems like they have known each other forever and they carry some fond and some harsh memories of each other. Talk To Her is nostalgic and very important. It paints a different art form of the surreal. What goes on in the minds of the comatose? But Talk To Her does not bury itself in first-hand subconscious clichés, it provides itself with the space to craft its characters and their relationships. That makes Talk To Her brilliant. There are just so many angles to approach it.

Talk To Her is like several chapters of two separate yet inevitably uniting lives. We are greeted to these characters with colourful yet impassive titles displaying the names and only that. There's a music and rhythm to their lives. Almódovar is blatant with his tones and his tension is far from enigmatic. You will get this movie. We have two lives that function in silence and when the two females fall into a coma, life is oddly similar. The first story revolves around Marco (Darío Grandinetti) and Lydia (Rosario Flores). Lydia is a bull fighter, stern with her job and an obvious religious faithful. She has a challenging job. She's in control, quiet, and focused. She is a matador. Almódovar captures Lydia (while we hear her) as this disciplined woman. She is totally intrepid, except towards snakes, a phobia she is quite bashful about. When gored by a bull in a bullfight, she is sent into a coma, leaving Marco alone, without much hope of her recovery. His doctor even said: "scientifically, there is no hope. But perhaps you can have a little faith." If anything, that's something Marco lacks.

The other story (which I find more compelling) is with a bisexual hospital clerk named Benigno (Javier Cámara). He thinks he prefers men but he is not sure. There is an undoubtable insecurity to him but he is also an introvert. Benigno is a master of cultivating people's inner thoughts. He is taking care of a comatose ballet dancer, someone he thinks he may be in love with. Almódovar describes this dancer, Alicia (Leonor Watling), as highly attractive. We see her smooth body, firm breasts, and sensual face through some seductively slow panning shots. Almódovar is such a transcendent director because he can tell a story through just the camera. His plots are austere, pursuable, and modest. But he finds an originality to Talk To Her, through his characters. Watching them interact is utterly unique.

When Marco and Benigno meet they develop this crushingly transfixing bond. Marco needs Benigno and Benigno needs Marco. In good company these two feel less alone. Marco has given up on Lydia but Benigno is an optimist. He tells Marco to just talk to her and she will seem much more alive. But Marco cannot get his head around it: for him, Lydia is more or less dead. She has no feelings. But through Almódovar's modest yet precise direction we cannot help but ask -- is she?

Talk To Her has a divide to it. It explores a rather tight knit story of Marco and Lydia's love affair and an obsessive one between Benigno and Alicia. The only similarity between the two is that they never have a strong ability to communicate with each other. Then, Almódovar changes the story into a becoming of friendship. Between two men. Almódovar finds two distinctive themes: friendship and love. He is a director of relentless compassion and without a doubt, he knows how to film this. His camera sways with a caressing swing and his pans are ever so gentle. This is a perfect rhythm of lives slowed down. All that is left is to talk to one another and find whatever happiness is there.

But before everything makes sense, Talk To Her divides into a third part. It is borderline bitter and borderline sweet. These characters cross the line but with the dignity they try to have, they attempt to forgive each other. Benigno makes one major error, but Almódovar does not negate Benigno's wrongdoing. He explains it. Clairvoyantly, Almódovar shows a silent sequence (in silent movie format) of a little man fornicating with a much larger yet scantily dressed women. They have this unusual attraction to each other. As weird as Almódovar dares to be, his tone is adequate. Alicia loved silent films, so the silent movie's thoughts are hers. The movie's compassion is her compassion. But a little man and a large woman seems like such an odd attraction. Almódovar, with a clever modesty, finds a character parallel.

I did find Talk To Her to be a melodrama but I also found it quite fascinating. Melodramas are simple but their characters are painted with such predictable undertones. In Talk To Her, everything is set up with such a simple swiftness but the characters have space to make their own flawed yet understandable choices. Agree with these characters or not, Talk To Her exemplifies a couple of characters caught up in tranquility. Some refute it, some circumvent it. At any rate, they find something to like about each other. By even talking to a dormant person, you can find some communion in them. As Benigno said, just talk to her, and you will find, as Almódovar so effortlessly renders, something very special.

I SAY--See It.