Broken Embraces 12/09/2009
 
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We find ourselves in an era of American filmmaking where everything has to blow up, love stories are crammed down viewers’ throats, and minor hiccups are turned into major catastrophes by poor decision-making heroes—all in the interest of creating the largest profit margin possible in the shortest amount of time. The reports of the most recent record-setting Thursday night opening total are pushed to the next line only by the most recent “leaked” photos of next summer’s blockbuster hit. In times like these it’s nice to shift your attention overseas where little-known directors (to the general, movie-going U.S. public, at least) are making films for the sake of art rather than trying to turn a massive profit.

Such is the case in Pedro Almodóvar’sBroken Embraces, a Spanish film that doesn’t make a statement with its characters as much as it simply observes a very intriguing segment of their lives.

Read more after the jump!
Rife with subtle twists and turns, Almodóvar has created a movie you really have to pay attention to in order to get the most out of it. Each line of dialogue is crafted by Almodóvar’s own hand to serve a purpose, not just pass time until the next explosion. It’s a shame I don’t speak Spanish because, in reading the subtitles, I missed what appeared to be a colorful, beautifully framed film. Any idiot could make Penélope Cruz look stunning, but Almodóvar succeeds and making her elegant and ravishing. The bold reds and greens really pop on the screen giving the more intimate, dim moments that much more weight.

The first part of the story is told in a Memento-esque sequences that jump back and forth between events before and after the car crash that causes filmmaker Mateo Blanco (Lluis Homar) to lose his eyesight and become a blind screenwriter by the name of Harry Caine.

The flashbacks start in 1992 with the tale of corrupt stockbroker Ernesto Martel (Jose Luis Gomez) falling in love with his secretary, Lena (Cruz), who dreams of being an actress. The two make for a happy couple until Lena auditions for a role in Blanco’s next movie and promptly starts sleeping with him. Suspecting adultery, Martel sends his son (Ruben Ochandiano) to film their every move under the guise of making a documentary about the film. Martel’s life as he knows it crumbles and he sets out on a methodical path towards revenge.

Flash back to present time, where a mysterious filmmaker calling himself Ray X (also Ochandiano) wants to work with Blanco on a script that will be his revenge against Mateo, whom he feels neglected him as a child in his youth. The four main characters writhe about in their Spanish villas with the ominous scent of revenge constantly in the air which can only lead to one thing: tragedy.

Cruz may be the name that American audiences recognize, but she plays a small role compared to the sweeping grand gestures of Homar. His ability to express the simmering anguish of being blind is as easily displayed as the joys he used to experience when he had sight. Subtitles made it difficult to understand if lines are delivered well, but true emotion transcends language, and I would have known the suffering Homar’s character was going through had this been a silent film.

I’m not saying I’m ready to give up on American cinema; goodness knows Greg and I both love us some post-apocalyptic warfare, but every once in a while it’s nice to skip over the pond and nurture your artistic side. Consider it a little R&R from the front lines of Hollywood.

--Mark Collins
 


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