Category: Review

Review: The Guard (2011)

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Writer-director John Michael McDonagh (brother of In Bruges’ Martin McDonagh) makes his feature length directorial debut with action-comedy The Guard – a welcome variation on the typical buddy-cop format. The film centres on Gerry Boyle (Brendan Gleeson): a drug-taking, prostitute-loving and socially unorthodox Irish cop who – when an international drug-smuggling gang decides to start using the small town as a hub for their illegal deliveries – is teamed up with FBI agent Wendell Everett (Don Cheadle) to investigate.

What ensues follows a fairly typical action-comedy structure, and it doesn’t deviate much throughout the majority of the film. However, rather than focusing heavily on forgettable plot strands, McDonagh admirably shifts the attention to Boyle’s character, and occasionally to his peculiar relationship with Everett. He lets the subplots arise from and fall back into the background in equal measure. At times, the narrative wavers enough for viewers to begin to question the film’s purpose and overall direction, but it mostly remains surprisingly focused. For a debut feature, this is no easy task.

McDonagh’s script, much like his brother’s for In Bruges, is packed full of profane humour, unforgettable one-liners and an array of distinctive characters. He has also instilled it with a subtle, yet acutely aware social commentary that not only impiously takes the piss out of Irish culture, but also makes you very aware of the seriousness of the underlying racism and the lay of the law. It often playfully nudges at the edge of disbelief, but – considering the comical take on the subject matter – it always reins itself in and never pushes the audience too far. The dialogue in particular is extremely enjoyable, breathing life into each individual character, while the welcome self-awareness pays undeniable homage to the likes of Edgar Wright and Diablo Cody.

Gleeson nails Boyle’s unconventional nature perfectly, and he delivers a wonderfully whimsical and forthright performance, adding a feeling of improvisation to the already blistering dialogue. This is also evident in the way he approaches the relationship with Cheadle’s uptight Everett. Despite being almost polar opposites, the pair share a tangible bond.

Big fans of Cheadle may be displeased at how little screen time Everett is allowed, but this is Gleeson’s vehicle through and through. While it’s a shame that his character’s background and ethics are skimmed over, it simply wouldn’t make sense for McDonagh to spend any more time on the supporting cast. Admittedly, they all hold their own in their respective roles, with Mark Strong and Fionnula Flanagan delivering particularly noteworthy performances. Strong inhabits the lead drug-smuggler Clive Cornell with a cool ease, while Flanagan delights as Boyle’s whiskey-swigging mother.

Aside from a comparatively inconclusive and evasive third act and the under-explored dynamic between Boyle and the trio of villains, The Guard is an admirably executed and often hilarious variation on the overdone action-comedy genre, elevated by stand-out performances across the board and an extraordinarily well-executed script from McDonagh.

Review: I Killed My Mother (2009)

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Synopsis: Hubert (Xavier Dolan), 16-year-old closeted homosexual, can’t stand his mother, Chantale (Anne Dorval). Everything about her irritates him, from her vulgar behaviour to her bad taste in wardrobe. But when he criticises her, she feigns indifference. One day he announces his decision to leave home, to go to live with his best friend Antonin (François Arnaud). She gives in, but a few days later, when she finds out from Antonin’s mother that the two boys are lovers, she changes her mind. Hubert is furious and runs away. He stays with a teacher who is sympathetic to his dilemma, but Chantale, tired of this ongoing war, turns to the boy’s father to see if he can reason with their son.

I Killed My Mother, actor/director Xavier Dolan’s widely praised directorial debut, is, in simple terms, a portrait of the complex bond between a young man and his deplorable mother. Dolan’s pivotal adulation for cinema is clearly reflected through his filmmaking style, and the way he borrows tricks – slow motion and penetrating camera angles – used by filmmakers he is clearly trying to emulate – Gus Van Sant, Gregg Akari and Pedro Almodóvar are three names that leap to mind. However, instead of blatantly copying these techniques, he adapts and weaves them into his own brand of storytelling, making them very much his own style and reflection of his own creativity.

He uses the camera and frame positioning to beautifully emphasise the separation of mother and son, which, considering he’s also the films central character, is not only an incredible achievement for a first time director, but also a mind-blowing one for someone so young and inexperienced. The camera, which is almost entirely locked into medium shot or extreme close up, never lets the characters out-of-sight, and sublimely captures the angst and emotionally shutdown nature of their lives. In addition, the film is beautifully scored by Nicholas Savard-L’Herbier with sounds that seamlessly compliment the tone and emotional distortion of the exceptionally constructed and procured scenes.

The script, also a product of the multi-talented Dolan, is well-paced, insightful and unexpectedly packed full of dark humour. The dialogue is forthright and unpredictable, which makes it even more believable, as if coming straight from Dolan’s childhood. The relationship between mother and son, though authentic for the most part, is made slightly less so by the constant arguments and shouting matches they share. Thankfully, then, the indisputable tension is broken up by a candid monologue by Hubert, flashbacks to his idyllic childhood and once treasured relationship between mother and son, and a brilliantly conceived and executed illustration of homosexuality. For the most part, it’s a tremendous balance, even if it does start to feel a little too organised and pretentious towards the end.

The performances across the board are top-notch. Both Dolan and Dorval deliver astonishingly lifelike performances as Hubert and Chantale respectively. Dolan conveys the teenage angst terrifically, while Dorval balances Chantale’s clueless yet caring nature to truly wondrous avail, bearing much of her taut emotion in her eyes. Arnaud, Suzanne Clément and Niels Schneider, who fill out the more substantial supporting roles, each deliver equally fraught, imperative turns.

I Killed My Mother is, quite explicitly, a remarkable portrait of the tempestuous relationship between a mother and a son. Not only does Dolan display a strong cinematic eye and technical expertise beyond his tender years, but also the maturity to write a deeply resonant, almost semi-biographical, coming-of-age tale.

Review: Kung Fu Panda 2 (2011)

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Synopsis: Po (Jack Black) the chop-sockey panda, returns for a new adventure, this time taking on evil Lord Shen (Oldman): a formidable enemy with a nasty secret weapon. Po is joined by his old buddies – Tigress (Angelina Jolie), Crane (David Cross), Mantis (Seth Rogen), Viper (Lucy Liu) and Monkey (Jackie Chan) – to protect the Valley of Peace.

Kung Fu Panda 2, the sequel to Dreamworks Animations’ heavily buzzed about Kung Fu Panda, is a wondrous equal to its perfectly enjoyable predecessor – if not slightly more sophisticated and well-rounded. The comedy, story and voice-work have all been upped in an attempt to combat sequel fatigue and, to the films merit, everyone pulls it off in a charmingly buoyant manner.

The script, penned by returning screenwriters Glenn Berger and Jonathan Aibel, is wonderfully paced, and a marked improvement on the original. Not only are Berger and Aibel able to strike the perfect balance between Po and the Furious Five’s quest to stop Lord Shen’s and Po’s heartbreaking discovery of his adoption, but they heighten the enjoyment factor with lampoonery, exhilarating action and the inclusion of an inspired kung fu-esque score by John Powell and Hans Zimmer. It’s not an easy task to alternate between the heaviness of characters lost childhood and spritely adventure, but Kung Fu Panda hits the nail on the head, exquisitely weaving the two strands together in a near seamless manner.

Director Jennifer Yuh Nelson oversees with a keen eye and indisputable zing that ensures Kung Fu Panda 2 preserves the marvellous spark and sheer gaiety that made the original so popular. A snappy pace and scenes that are choreographed with a distinct level of creativity – most notably the anime-infused flashback scenes revealing Po’s psychologically disturbed childhood and the hilarious Pac Man-esque chase sequence through Gongmen city – wholly infuse the film with an overarching fun disposition, and ensure the animation is as visually interesting and detailed as physically possible. The fact that Guillermo Del Toro acted as creative consultant shines through and indicates how dedicated Dreamworks Animation were to making a worthy sequel.

The film might boast first-rate animation and a refined script, but it’s the star-spangled voice-work that makes each and every madcap character stand out from the crowd and feel as integral as the last that is the films true prize. Black, in particular, gives a top-notch as the burgeoning Po, and is the ultimate heart and soul of the film. His personality has become so suffused with that of Po’s that it’s hard to think of them as two separate entities. Hoffman, Jolie and Rogen stand out amongst the supporting cast, each injecting the necessary laughs, thrills and enterprise into their roles.

It is, however, the new additions that steal the film. Oldman delivers a necessarily, and utterly convincingly level of menace as Lord Shen, while Yeoh and – try not to laugh – even Jean Claude Van Damme fit perfectly in their roles as Soothsayer and Master Croc, proving their worth as befitting additions to the already bountifully capable cast.

Kung Fu Panda 2 works not only as marvellous family entertainment, but also as an innovative and fervid animation spectacle, intercut with heartwarming revelations, thrilling action, skilful comedy, superlative voice-work, and a soaring soundtrack to boot. It’s a film for all ages, and one that unquestionably deserves to be cherished and enjoyed as much, if not more, than the first.

Almodóvar Retrospective #3 – Dark Habits

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To mark the release of Pedro Almodóvar’s eighteenth feature film The Skin I Live In on August 26, I’ll be watching and reviewing one of his films per week in the hope of examining the acclaimed Spanish filmmakers extraordinary vision and knack for storytelling through his resonant filmography.

This week: Dark Habits

Dark Habits was Almodóvar’s third feature feature-length film, and the first to be made readily available on DVD in the US. The film revolves around nightclub singer Yolanda Bel (Cristina Sánchez Pascual), who seeks asylum in a Madrid convent after delivering strychnine-laced heroin to her boyfriend and fleeing the police.

With the plot synopsis you’d be prone to think that Dark Habits was a madcap affair. However, the result is more nuanced than you’d expect, with Almodóvar more considerate and respectful of his characters this time around. He lets them come into their own and replaces many of the melodramatic plot scenarios seen in Pepi, Luci, Bom And Other Girls Like Mom and Labyrinth Of Passion with more involved artifices. This growth in storytelling sees the characters’ individual arcs tied together into a much more satisfying whole, delivering a more rounded and sophisticated experience when compared to the clunky nature of his first two films. It’s clear he’s becoming less obsessed with melodrama and more interested in the dramatic.

Almodóvar’s direction reflects the laid-back and curious sentiment he holds for the characters and their respective plot-threads. In turn, he opts for long takes and observing camera angles, rather than the imposing and busy style we’ve become accustomed to. Dark Habits still emphasises Almodóvar’s reliance and fixation on bold colours, bizarre costume, and spunky decor, but they aren’t as in-your-face or obtrusive, which clearly shows that not only is Almodóvar evolving as a storyteller, but also as a director.

The performances within Dark Habits are subdued in a way that doesn’t always reflect the wacky makeup of the collection of characters on display: from drug addicted murderesses to berserk prostitutes. None of the characters engage in the way so many from Almodóvar’s future projects do, and they often remain as restrained as the uncharacteristically muted colour palate of the set design. Even though this can be chalked down to lack of experience, when you see how human and sympathetic Almodóvar makes certain characters in his latter films, you’d be excused for feeling a little disappointed at his lack of adventurousness here.

Dark Habits may be, at times, be clunky, flat and too restrained for its own good, but it does demonstrate Almodóvar’s growth, his developing interest in deeper, more affecting subject matter and his overall desire to strike the right balance between melodrama and straightforward drama. It’s an uneven piece of filmmaking, but perhaps the most reflective of Almodóvar’s true intention as a filmmaker to date.

Next week: What Have I Done To Deserve This?

Almodóvar Retrospective #2 – Labyrinth Of Passion

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To mark the release of Pedro Almodóvar’s eighteenth feature film The Skin I Live In on August 26, I’ll be watching and reviewing one of his films per week in the hope of examining the acclaimed Spanish filmmakers extraordinary vision and knack for storytelling through his resonant filmography.

This week: Labyrinth Of Passion

Labyrinth Of Passion was Almodóvar’s second feature feature-length film, and it saw both a marked technical and visceral improvement on Pepi, Luci, Bom And Other Girls Like Mom. The film is about four central characters:  Sexilia (Cecilia Roth), a nymphomaniac; Sadec (Antonio Banderas), a gay Islamic terrorist; Riza Niro (Imanol Arias), the son of the emperor of Tiran; and Queti (Marta Fernández Muro), the daughter of a dry-cleaner. When Riza Niro discovers that Sadec and his colleagues are after him, he disguises himself as a punk rocker, and falls in love with the stunning Sexilia, his first straight relationship. Meanwhile Queti, Sexilia’s “biggest fan”, helps Sexilia come to terms with her new life-style.

As you would expect from such an array of gender confused characters, they spend a fair amount of the running time stoned or indulging in a multitude of other carnalities, but, to the films merit, everyone slots neatly into their clearly defined roles with an unsettling yet nonchalant ease. From the beginning, Labyrinth Of Passion is fast-paced, camp, brazen, trashy, frivolous, and flippant. In simple terms, it does exactly what it says on the tin, and has a lot of fun in the process.

As expected, the film has a unmitigated look, filled with outlandish costumes, a gallery of psychedelic colours, and ridiculously excessive hairdos that stand out against the drab city backdrop. Despite this, Almodóvar directs with a notably naturalistic eye which lends the proceedings an almost plausible air, making the weird and wacky characters seem very much as ease with their absurd lives and Madrid’s unorthodox aura.

While there’s no specifically brilliant performances on display and, with a cast of larger than life characters, it’s difficult to emote with anyone in particular. Each cast member delivers an enthusiastic turn, adding a certain personal touch to the ensuing mayhem. Banderas (who becomes a frequent collaborator with Almódovar in later films) has a small, yet alluringly arousing role as an Islamic terrorist who uses his sense of smell to track down and kidnap the emperor’s son, while Almodóvar himself makes an inspired cameo appearance as a leather clad transvestite pop singer, wonderfully blurring the line between artist and art.

Labyrinth Of Passion supplies a very early glimpse of Almodóvar’s talents and the themes which he re-addresses in greater depth in his later films, though arguably with less spirit and boyishness enthusiasm than is on display here. It may be, at times, a messy, chaotic and unfocused mind fuck, but it’s certainly one that demands attention as a piece of wild cult cinema from a burgeoning director discovering his voice.

Next week: Dark Habits

Review: X-Men: First Class (2011)

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Synopsis: When the CIA discovers the existence of Mutants, telepath Charles Xavier (James McAvoy) is charged with recruiting a team to oppose the evil mutant Sebastian Shaw (Kevin Bacon) and the mysterious Hellfire Club. But not all of Xavier’s team share his vision of peace with humanity as the powerful Erik Lehnsherr (Michael Fassbender) becomes convinced of mankind’s intolerance of Mutants.

X-Men: First Class is 20th Century Fox’s chance to start over with the X-Men franchise, to iron out the creases and resolve the sour taste that the critically panned X-Men: The Last Stand left in viewers’ mouths. Thankfully, by bringing on board Kick-Ass director Matthew Vaughn and a crack team of screenwriters – including Vaughn’s Kick-Ass counterpart Jane Goldman – X-Men: First Class has truly reinvigorated the franchise. It has adapted, evolved and and, most importantly, re-imagined itself, rather than living in the shadows of Bryan Singer’s original X-Men franchise.

The script is tight and fast-paced, with very few dull moments throughout and, instead of focusing too heavily on big budget action set-pieces, Goldman and co. instead opt to create a more intimate character piece, knitting each one into the thoroughly realised 1960’s world. The ensemble characters’ passages are handled with such care, and intercut with such genuinely terrific yet retrained action sequences, that they don’t feel bogged down or too developed for their own good.

Instead, the film and its characters are set up in a timely and neat manner, before the focus quickly shifts to the tempestuous relationship between Charles and Erik, and urgent stoppage of Sebastian Shaw. Of course, this means that some of the supporting characters aren’t as explored as others – Emma Frost (January Jones) and Moria McTaggert (Rose Bryne) are two that instantly come to mind – but these are minor quandaries, and something that audiences have come to expect from comic book adaptations through the years.

Vaughn’s direction compliments the script wonderfully, and he impressively adapts to the kinetic adventure tone after the hardcore and R-rated blood-fest that is Kick-Ass. Through his enthusiastic eye, X-Men: First Class exudes charm, wit, excitement and moments of indubitable terror. What’s most impressive is the wonderful way in which he infuses all these different elements, enhancing the overall enjoyment of the film rather than simply letting it becoming too complicated for viewers to understand. Similarly, despite being set amidst the Cuban Missile Crisis, it manages to avoid tangling itself in a web of political inquisitions, remaining light, level-headed and to the point for its entire running time.

In terms of acting, McAvoy, Fassbender,  Bacon and Jennifer Lawrence, in particular, immerse themselves in their respective roles, while Bryne and Nicholas Hoult do their best with their limited screen time. McAvoy and Fassbender are the undeniable nucleus of X-Men: First Class, with both exquisitely conveying the push-pull relationship between Charles’s quest for world peace and Erik’s attraction to evil. It is, essentially, a friendship between two men who know they need each other, but who are pulled apart by the different aims they possess.

Lawrence, in her first mainstream Hollywood role, holds her own as Raven/Mystique, bringing a remarkable level of susceptibleness and sobriety to her shape-shifting alter-ego, while Bacon is able to truly shine as the films central villain. Bryne and Hoult, despite being used so sparingly, both inhabit their roles with equal flavor, and we can only hope they are used more centrally in future X-Men instalments so they can prove their worth.

Some of the supporting cast, however, including, but not limited to Jones, Jason Flemyng and Lucas Till simply don’t have the necessary instruments to hold their own against such a heavyweight principal cast and are essentially brushed to to the side – though, in some ways, this is to the film’s merit.

Unfortunately, some precarious special effects – perhaps due to the time restricted post-production schedule – and an uneven middle act prevents X-Men: First Class from hitting the giddy highs some were anticipating. Even so, it’s a remarkably cohesive and assured origin story that deserves to be treasured and adored for its valiance and entertaining dexterity. All that’s left to say is, bring on X-Men: Second Class.

Review: Screwed (2011)

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Partially based on ex-prison officer Ronnie Thompson’s novel of the same name, Screwed centers on Sam Norwood (James D’Arcy), a former frontline soldier who finds himself working as a prison officer in one of Britian’s most deplorable insitutions. As the harsh realities of being a prison ‘screw’ take there toll, Sam finds solace in booze, drugs and prostitues, rejecting his family and slowly embroiling in a life he could never have imagined.

Director Reg Traviss and screenwriter Colin Butts try hard to inject verve and orginality into Screwed, most noticeably in the way Traviss eerily presents the drama from the ‘screws’ point of view and in Butts’ deft approach to Sam’s character. While these aspects are refreshing to see and make for a solid setup, the fact both Traviss and Butts revert all too easily back to the cliches and contivances of a typical prison drama – shoddy dialogue and over-the-top violence in particular – simply accentuates their overriding inability to carry things through and make Screwed an all together different experience.

It’s a welcome relief, then, that the cast are on top form. Clarke is suitably intimidating as head kingpin Truman, but unfortunately suffers from an underwhelming lack of presence and Butts’ discreditable lines. D’Arcy, on the other hand, steals the show in every scene, suitably conveying Sam’s fierce nature and difficulty adjusting to life away from Iraq. Frank Harper and Kate Magowan stand out as head ‘screw’ Deano and Sam’s discarded wife Danielle, respectively, among the adequate yet ashamedly squandered supporting cast.

No matter how hard it tries, Screwed can’t escape the shadows of the very best prison dramas it’s trying to emulate. Overstated, sleazy and cliche-ridden, it foolishly wastes a mostly reliable cast and tarnishes Thompson’s source material.

Review: The Hangover Part II (2011)

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In 2008, an R-rated comedy about three groomsmen – Phil (Bradley Cooper), Stu (Ed Helms) and Alan (Zach Galifianakis) – who lose their about-to-be-wed friend, Doug (Justin Bartha), during their drunken adventures became a surprise hit for director Todd Phillips and took the box office by storm.

Now, two years later, the inevitable sequel has arrived. The Hangover Part II finds Phil, Alan and Doug setting off to Thailand for Stu’s supposedly safe, subdued wedding. However, things don’t go as planned after they lose the 16-year-old brother (Mason Lee) of Stu’s fiancee (Jamie Chung) and somehow wake up in Bangkok.

Once again, Phil, Stu and Alan try to piece together the previous night and find their  missing friend. It’s not an easy task though, as they encounter a number of ludicrous complications – from a silent monk to an international arms deal.

Unlike last time, when the scenarios felt fresh, exciting and wholly comical, the spark of originality has dissipated, leaving a uneven narrative that relies all too heavily on both sight gags – Stu’s tattoo and Teddy’s missing finger – and shock value – Stu’s encounter with a transexual prostitute – to score some of its bigger laughs.

Similarly, the obstacles feel staid in comparison to the freewheeling nature and ridiculousness that made the first one so unexpectedly brilliant. The fact that nothing new is offered to shake up the formula feels like a massive mistake, and the film falls flat on its face from the off.

It’s a relief, then, to see that the chemistry between the leads is still fully intact. It’s an achievement in itself to get all the actors to agree to a sequel, all the more so when they gel together as successfully as Cooper, Galifianakis and Helms. The only problem is, due to the irregular structure of the narrative, their characters have been dialled up to an almost unbearable level. After half an hour, this stops being entertaining and begins to vex.

While Galifianakis’ Alan was the prized star of the first instalment, he appears to have since regressed, becoming borderline mentally challenged. Of course, his haphazardness raises a few smirks along the way, but he never hits the same highs he did in the first.

Helms, on the other hand, takes the film from under Galifianakis’ feet and runs with it. He strikes the perfect balance between madcap lunacy and straightforwardness that makes Stu so appeasing and ultimately relatable. Cooper’s Phil is basically the brains of the pack – an averagely realised counterpart to their absurdity.

The first films absentee, Doug, adds nothing but a sense of relief to the Bangkok craziness, while Ken Jeong, whose Mr Chow is back in a more predominant role, doesn’t have the intermittent flavour he achieved so well the first time around. His camp and mischievous personality is too eccentric, and ultimately jarring, to warrant his increased presence.

There were also two cameo performances – one that wonderfully re-energised the sagging middle segment and another that could result in eyes being clawed out.

Phillips directs with a slick, loose attitude that’s perfectly in sync with the vicarious complications the trio encounter, but without the workably unhinged script of the first film to back it up, it never feels as pleasing or imaginative as it thinks it does.

As enjoyable a viewing experience as it is, The Hangover Part II doesn’t have the substance or breezy nature that made the first film so accidentally brilliant, and ultimately feels like a inadequately executed rehash.

But hey, at least it’s better than Due Date…

Review: Pirates Of The Caribbean: On Stranger Tides (2011)

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Pirates Of The Caribbean: On Stranger Tides is the fourth instalment in the multi-billion pound action-adventure franchise, and possibly the easiest to understand. This time, we follow Captain Jack Sparrow (Johnny Depp) as he lands himself in a bit of a bind after being lured onto Blackbeard’s (Ian McShane) ship by enigmatic siren – and old flame – Angelica (Penélope Cruz), and is forced to seek out the Fountain of Youth.

While it’s certainly exciting to see Jack on another adventure, the frenzy soon fades, leaving in its midst Ted Elliot and Terry Rossio’s exhausted, clumsy and bland story – one that’s fuelled only by cliched action sequences. To add to this, On Stranger Tides completely fails to acknowledge anything that happened in the first trilogy. Yes, this film may be the standalone instalment producers were seeking, but it loses most of its credibility in the process.

Rob Marshall, who takes over directorial duties from Gore Verbinski, doesn’t inpart any visible influence on the film. His background in musicals and stage shows, where he basks in vivid colours and exciting set pieces, seems to have disappeared. On Stranger Tides is tinged with a dull, lifeless light, made worse only by Marshall’s pedestrian direction. It’s a shame, because the sequences involving the mermaids – which were genuinely exciting and engaging – were lit so dimly that you had to squint to be able to distinguish similarly clothed characters. Not an enjoyable experience in the slightest.

Nearly every performance within the film – both from new and recurring cast members – is muted and stoic. While Depp is still charming and enthralling as Captain Jack Sparrow, the plot and trite dialogue doesn’t leave him much room to breathe. Other actors, namely Cruz, Geoffrey Rush – who returns as Barbossa – and McShane, deliver adequate performances as their respective characters, but none are particularly noteworthy or seem to have the energy to prove their worth.

It goes to show that no matter how ridiculous Dead Man’s Chest and At World’s End were – nor how annoying Keira Knightley and Orlando Bloom’s characters had become – it’s a shame to see a franchise that started off so fresh transform into a sheer money-making wreck. If only Knightley’s Elizabeth Swan had shown up to re-utter one of the franchises best lines – “You like pain? Try wearing a corset” – On Stranger Tides may have saved itself. Just.

Almodóvar Retrospective #1 – Pepi, Luci, Bom And Other Girls Like Mom

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To mark the release of Pedro Almodóvar’s eighteenth feature film The Skin I Live In on August 26, I’ll be watching and reviewing one of his films per week in the hope of examining the acclaimed Spanish filmmakers extraordinary vision and knack for storytelling through his resonant filmography.

This week: Pepi, Luci, Bom And Other Girls Like Mom

Pepi, Luci, Bom And Other Girls Like Mom was Almodóvar’s first feature-length film, and it follows the adventures of the three titular characters: Pepi (Carmen Maura), who wants revenge from the corrupt policeman who raped her; Luci (Eva Siva), a mousy, masochistic housewife; and Bom (Olvido Gara), a lesbian punk rock musician.

If Almodóvar’s aim was to distress his viewers, then he has done so admirably – in fact, most of the narrative is spurred on by Almodóvar’s insistence on transposing the taboo-ridden society by using various shock schemes, such as Pepi’s rape, Luci’s uncomfortable obsession with a 16-year-old punk rocker, and an abrupt “golden shower” scene. However, the sections in between feel out of place and all too dull in comparison, betraying the fact that the director was at the start of his career, and had a lot to learn in terms of seamlessly blending the exploration of illicit subjects with a cohesive and enchanting story.

The instinctive and visionary style we’ve come to expect from Almodóvar is present, but in an altogether limited and immature capacity. Almodóvar basks the film in rich, buoyant colours, and uses them to symbolise and accentuate sanctioned themes such as homosexuality, the sexual and moral freedom of women, and the liberation of society. However, with a limited budget and a sense of naivety, the mix of harsh reality and subversive humour doesn’t work on the palatable level he achieves today.

In terms of acting, Maura – who plays boundlessly energetic Pepi – is the only of the three central actresses that stands out. Maura’s role, which admirably personifies the film’s shock-value spirit, is that of an innocent, naive girl who, after a loutish policeman rapes her and steals her virginity, suddenly becomes a frightening, forceful woman hellbent on revenge.

Siva and Gara, who play Luci and Bom, were both respectable enough, developing their individual characters’ personalities in a believable way as they experienced set-backs and glorified highs. Nevertheless, both were portrayed in contradictory ways by Almodóvar – something that doesn’t sit pretty with the overall intention of the film and character arcs. The male characters of the film are tentatively kept in the background and painted in a bad light, further emphasising Almodóvar’s desire to show that women are much stronger than men.

While it may not be as robust as Almodóvar’s recent films, Pepi, Luci, Bom And Other Girls Like Mom is certainly him through-and-through; albeit a more insecure and disconcerted version of the director we’ve come to regard so highly. Even so, the film perfectly managed to capture the spirit of the times – above all the sense of cultural and sexual freedom – when Spain was finding its voice again after years of being silenced by dictator Francisco Franco.

Next week: Labyrinth Of Passion