A Life in Images

Finally!, the theater for Cinema 10 was packed the way it should have been. I’d like to think that all my advertising and blogs and hype have helped a little bit, but that’s probably not the case. I don’t really care. I’m just glad that more people are coming out to support important independent and foreign cinema. I don’t know what compelled people to come to the screening of “Los abrazos rotos (2009),” but they certainly didn’t walk away disappointed, clapping at the screen as the credits began to roll. While it wasn’t the best film I’ve ever seen, Almodovar’s fourth venture with Penelope Cruz certainly waswas inspired, vibrant, and entertaining.

The film is a multi-layered and angled look at the life of blind film-maker Mateo Blanco who we instantly recognize as a charming and passionate dude that throws himself at whatever he wants. The other players are his production manager, Judit, and her son, Diego, who simultaneously propel and frustrate the plot throughout the course of the movie. They (and their actions) are, of course, catalysts for the change that must take place in order for Mateo to overcome the death of his tragic lover, Lena.

The film jumps back and forth between times and places, to Mateo’s brief-love affair with vision and to Lena’s struggle to help her dying father which results in being tied to a man whose obsession with her dilutes any feelings she could ever reciprocate. The refusal to focus is initially confusing, but ultimately deliberate; it feels like there are a million different ideas thrust forth at once - muddling the picture - but it all comes together beautifully in the end. Likewise, the film can be surmised in two brief moments: when Diego finds a heavy, full grocery bag in Mateo’s locked desk drawer, and secondly when he finally opens it, spilling its contents over a table in a jumbled mass. Offscreen, Diego begins the impossible process of piecing together the hundreds of thousands of torn photographs of Mateo and Lena. Onscreen, we catch only a sideways glance at the one picture that Diego has assembled, but it’s enough so that we get an idea of what Almodovar wants from us without his message being overt.

“Broken Embraces” is also a comment on the film making process. On the whole, the many layers create a story within a story within a story within a story, where different actions and aspects of each piece affect every other layer. The creative process is often subject to this complex relationship, so it’s kind of refreshing that Almodovar acknowledges this. Mateo’s blindness (and subsequent alter ego) allow him to take a step back and approach his art from a new angle, a frustrating necessity of all artistic endeavors.

As always, though, I do have some gripes; this is not as great a film as some of the other Spanish films I’ve encountered (Ahem…). Though most everything comes together, the plot does seem to meander at points, suggesting subplots that could have been omitted. There’s also a revelation at the end that is entirely unnecessary, as it’s hinted at nonstop for 2 hours prior and follows another revelation that is far more profound. I suppose I just mean that in a film that is otherwise so deep and clever, there are a few moments that leave me asking “so what?”

Verdict: A little more than Stoked. I'm starting to think that I should invest some time in Almodovar's other films. His ideas and directions are powerful and provocative, and he ends this one with the very profound suggestion that films (and art and life and love and and and and) should be finished, whether or not sight is a gift you possess.