All About My Mother

viewed April 2, 2000 at the Landmark's Park

for full details about this film, click here.

On the first warm weekend of spring I wandered about trying to find something to do in the afternoon, and so I went to Menlo Park to see a foreign film.  Driving down a part of El Camino Real that I haven't visited in years, I was amazed at how run down it was, since it's an incredibly affluent neighborhood, situated between San Mateo and Palo Alto.  It seems that Menlo Park and Atherton have a sizeable population of retirees who could care less about the conditions of their roads since they don't get around much anyway.  My suspicions were confirmed when, upon entering the theater, I was surrounded by a bunch of old people who, as I could tell by the familiar way they spoke to each other, come regularly to congregate around the back of the theater to eat popcorn and talk films.  The theater itself is very comfortable and grand, though it played to a fifth of its capacity this afternoon.  The two people who operated the theater, who constantly switched off ticket-taking and concession selling, seemed to know most of the faces they greeted.  The youngest person in the theater, a girl who scooped popcorn while punching out tickets, was extremely hoarse and couldn't say a word.  One teenage girl serving popcorn to a brigade of elderly cineastes -- something Almodovaran about that, I would say.

The film was okay; you either love Almodovar or you're left somewhat in a lurch by his deadpan eccentricities.  His films are certainly worth seeing at least once in a lifetime.  The melodramatic twists and turns can be delicious, though at the same time Almodovar can draw too much attention on his cleverness.  For example, a woman nurse play-acts a scene for an informational video as a bereaved mother who must decide whether to donate her child's organs.  Later, her real son is killed, and she performs the scene once again, but for real.

If anything, you develop a genuine feeling of sympathy for Almodovar's characters, and by extension you feel a bit more compassionate for all humankind.  How noble a feat for a director to accomplish, especially when he's using transvestites to accomplish it. 

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