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TOP 50 REVIEWERon 22 September 2015
Another breathtaking film from Almodovar means that he made three masterpieces in a row, this one following hot on the heels of Law Of Desire and Women On The Verge Of A Nervous Breakdown. Antonio Banderas stars in all three, and here his role is as daring as that in Law Of Desire, which already showed him to be fearless in acting terms. What an outrageous premise it is, and so un-PC, that a man (Ricky), released from a psychiatric hospital, could kidnap a woman, tie her up, with the absurd conviction that she could be made to fall in love with him, and then for that to happen! While some would say it is tasteless, or irresponsible even, Almodovar pulls it off as possibly only he could. It is something you have to see to believe it, but that is what you are convinced really happens, and are moved by it ... It is always interesting to see a specific case that breaks all the rules, I think, and forces us to think less rigidly about human behaviour; but actually Almodovar's film cuts deep in its empathy and belief in humanity. There is a lot of love in this film, and of understanding of the need for love. It would not work without a carefully written screenplay which peels back layers of Ricky's personality bit by bit, and the wonderful casting of Victoria Abril as Marina, an ex-porn actress and ex-junkie who somehow brings everything together to present vulnerability, strength, courage, tenderness ... Her sister, played by the very camp Loles Leon, sounds a very complementary note, with a song-and-dance number and completely fabulous presence in every scene she appears in. Her presence is a marvellous foil to the quite serious notes of the central relationship, and it is more violent than I recall in any of his previous films (except possibly Matador), in keeping with the darker tone (this would be reproduced in the slightly similar Live Flesh, which charts the life of a similar young man right from the violence of being born unexpectedly on a bus). These aspects are underpinned by a somewhat ruminative score by Ennio Morricone. Then there is the vibrant colour scheme, all reds and greens, with sudden blues, as in the electric credits at the beginning, the word "Attame!" appearing in a blue cloud against music of mystery that already seems to be opening up all the senses. The parallels with Cocteau's La Belle et la bete are very striking, even to his carrying her through two doors which seem to open miraculously, pushed by his foot, and where we see her legs coming through from the other side, not to mention the way the last part is set up ... and also a half-man half-monster character on the film set she is working on at the beginning. This gives the film a further poise in tone, somewhere between real life and fantasy, with an almost mythical aspect. It really is cinema at its most magical.
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on 23 October 2015
Pedro Almodóvar’s Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down! (Átame!, 1990) is his eighth feature and the third he made under the umbrella of his own production company, El Deseo. Absurdly derided in certain quarters (especially in the States) as sexist, sado-masochistic, male-chauvinist and even irresponsible, perhaps the first thing I should emphasize is the sweetness of the film. Coming with minimal sex and violence, it is a dark but genial satiric romantic comedy in which nobody gets hurt, nobody dies and everyone lives happily ever after. It amounts in total to a beautiful meditation, a celebration even, of love in its myriad different forms – passionate/obsessive love between man and woman, dutiful love between husband and wife, officious love between the State and its citizens, Christian love between God and his children, family love between sisters and their mother, father love between a director and the film he has created, voyeuristic love held by the artist (and his audience – us of course!) for his muse and addictive love for all things that make life bearable – from companionship to artistic creativity and from sex to drugs. Sure the film acknowledges the dark, painful and even disturbing aspects of love, but that surely is the nature of the beast. Where powerful emotions are ignited there are always going to be consequences, both unforeseen and uncontrolled. If you want to ignore the realities of the subject you should go see something bland and blinkered like the feel-goody goody Love Actually. Here Almodóvar has crafted a stunningly achieved, deceptively simple, but highly perceptive masterpiece on the subject. Undoubtedly one of his finest films, as Rupert Smith in Time Out says, it can be set beside Luis Buñuel’s Belle du Jour and not be found wanting.

Almodóvar is one of cinema’s finest story tellers and the complexities of his narratives are legend. To dig deep and really do justice to this film I am going to have to reveal everything that happens. One of the chief pleasures of this director is his ability to surprise and astonish and I strongly recommend you don’t read what'follows until you have seen it.

The first thing we hear as the credits are revealed superimposed over the title of a painting is the sound of a heart beating. The camera slowly zooms back to reveal the painting’s subject to be Jesus and Mary holding hearts before them imploringly. Love, the central message of Christianity (of our very civilization) is to be the film’s central subject. The main love we see is the wild, untamed love of 23 year old Ricky (Antonio Banderas), a young man just released from a mental institution, for porno actress and junkie Marina (Victoria Abril). Having visited the film set where Marina is just finishing her debut non-porno film for wheelchair-bound director Máximo Espejo (Francisco Rabal) and having stolen her apartment keys, he kidnaps her. He holds her hostage in her own place, tying her up and gagging her when necessary while he waits for her to fall in love with him. Eventually, of course, she does! On the face of it this is outrageous and Almodóvar’s refusal to moralize is the main reason for the film’s controversy. It is however a thematic constant in Almodóvar’s work and transparently tells us that for him the obsession of one person is in itself a romantic notion. In interview he later said: “For there to be a loving relationship it is only necessary for one person to love. For there to be communication within a couple, it is enough for there to be only one person who communicates. Even though a couple consists of two people, if one of the people in a couple puts all their effort into moving a couple along they will move along. All of this relates to pure romanticism.” This theme was first stated in The Law of Desire (1987) in the character of Antonio (again played by Banderas) and appears much later in Talk to Her (2002) in the character of the nurse Benigno (Javier Camara).

Our shock at the transgression of the central premise should be dissipated by our knowledge that it is on one level a simple restatement of the central theme behind the fairy tale Beauty and the Beast and that in some ways the film comments on Jean Cocteau’s treatment of the story in La Belle et la bête (1946). There are also mitigating circumstances which help us understand Ricky’s behavior. Key to this is the fact that Marina had already made love to him a while before the film begins. At that time Ricky promised to come back and take care of her, and here he simply delivers on his promise. Then there are the circumstances of Ricky’s childhood. Having lost his parents at the age of three he’s been raised in an orphanage and then a mental institution and has nobody in the world. These things later prove instrumental in changing Marina’s initial hostility into love. Then there is the tender way he takes care of her. His violent intent is evident only when she tries to attract the attention of a third party. He hits her once at the beginning to stop her screaming, threatens her twice with a knife when in public and ties her up/tapes her mouth when he has to leave her alone. Against that however is his refusal to rape her when she suggests it, his concern for her not cutting her feet on broken glass, the aversion of his eyes when she changes clothes, and his acceptance of her demands to find softer rope and tape. Then he takes her to a doctor to get morphine and even goes on the streets to score heroin for her. It is revealing that the film’s most violent moments don’t come from Ricky. They come from Marina hurling a glass into his face and then from drug pushers beating him up on the street. Banderas is amazing in this film, simultaneously making his character psychotic and immensely sympathetic. When Marina calls him “pathetic” and tells him point blank she will never fall in love with him, Ricky reels away and starts to cry. A moving moment, our hearts really go out to the poor boy. Almodóvar brings off the juxtaposition between sinister threat and acute sensitivity in a superbly articulate script tailored exactly to his actor’s strengths – his devilishly handsome good looks coupled with an innate vulnerability.

Of course it takes two to tango (even in an Almodóvar film!) and opposite Banderas Victoria Abril is simply sensational as the object of his passion. Ricky represents love as a blind passionate/obsessive impulse and Banderas plays him throughout as an abstract emotion more than anything else. Marina represents a variety of different forms of love and the transformation she undergoes in the film demands extraordinary adaptability from Abril. At first she is an addict to life’s pleasures and has been marked by exploitation. She has a past as a porno star and is a recovering heroin addict. A neurotic fruitcake with a penchant for not wearing underwear and harboring a heroin-induced toothache, her efforts at self-redemption are conveyed in her making a film which isn’t porno for once, and her staying away from drugs. Central to both is her love for her sister Lola (the wonderful comedienne Loles León). Lola keeps an eye on her, but is also the production manager of the film Marina is making. It isn’t specified, but we can guess Lola may have been instrumental in getting Marina the role and with it the chance of establishing a clean reputation. Once kidnapped and tied up by Ricky, Marina experiences a whirlpool of emotion. Out of the initial hatred for her assailant slowly comes the passionate/obsessive love that Ricky represents so that eventually (her addictive nature being what it is) she issues the command “Átame!” (“Tie me up!”). She goes from wanting to escape to wanting to be tied to Ricky. It is no mean feat that Abril makes this transition so natural, the love/hate emotions existing at the same time. At one point she disrobes. Ricky averts his eyes as she told him to do earlier. He asks if she minds him looking now and she signals she doesn’t. She puts on a robe and then instantly the prior revulsion comes back and she angrily moves away from him. Another time she desperately tries to escape her bonds while Ricky has gone out to score heroin, but when he comes back severely cut and bleeding (without the smack) her revulsion turns instantly into concern. Then in the bathroom as he tries to take of his shirt with her worrying over his wounds, he tells her his only memory of his parents. This pushes her completely over the edge into a vortex of passion. Even in the superbly-played comic love scene Abril manages to get across the crazy mess of contradictory desires her character embodies. The first of three starring roles for Almodóvar (she had a walk-on role in The Law of Desire and was considered for both What Have I Done to Deserve This? and Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown) Abril’s performance here is a veritable tour de force.

The realization and eventual celebration of consummated passionate/obsessive love constitutes the film’s main text, but bedded within the narrative lie parallel meditations on other manifestations of love. We are hit by the main all-embracing one right at the beginning with the depiction of Jesus and Mary holding hearts in a painting. It is to be noticed that this very painting is later found hanging over the marital bed in the apartment where Ricky moves Marina into. The fact that their love is eventually consummated on this bed beneath this picture suggests not only that Ricky and Marina are God’s children simply doing what they should with his blessing, but also that the characters represent Jesus and Mary themselves. The hearts in the picture are bright red. Ricky wears red T-shirts throughout the film. En-route to the studio Ricky buys a red heart-shaped box of chocolates which he slips into Marina’s handbag. His love may be obsessive, but it is pure, addictive and eventually all-embracing, carrying all before it just like Christianity itself. Notice the other religious paintings displayed around the two apartments – Joseph minding his flock, God towering over Job and his wife and others which remain indistinct. Christian love is ever-present and informs everything we see in the film. Almodóvar uses religious iconography much as Luis Buñuel did in another film set mostly in a confined interior – The Exterminating Angel, but with a subtle difference. There the tone is condemnatory whereas here it is celebratory.

Closely associated with (in fact born out of) Christian love is the country of Spain itself, possibly represented here by Ricky’s mental hospital. The two are connected again at the beginning when the painting of Jesus and Mary fades gradually onto a building presented as a freeze frame in the manner of a colored x-ray photograph with the colors heavily saturated to look like an expressionist painting. The real colors gradually come back and the freeze frame bursts into activity. The effect is to stress Christianity giving birth to the building. We connect the mental hospital to Spain because Ricky is 23 years old. This film was made for release in 1990. That means Ricky was born in 1967 during the time of Franco’s fascist dictatorship a full ten years before democratic Spain was born. Ricky then represents the dangerous new hope born out of an institution (Spain) governed by a twisted Francoist government. Ricky’s unfortunate childhood and experiences of orphanages, reform schools and mental institutions are perhaps all to be inferred as Franco’s legacy. Marina has also been damaged by the same historical time frame and the film perhaps shows how the last generation born and raised under Franco deal with a collectively dysfunctional past. Interestingly, the mental hospital is governed by a director (Lola Cardona) and nurses who between them have provided Ricky with his sex education. This could be inferred as the love of the State for its charges and undoubtedly sends Ricky out to conquer all with his new-found religion. Almodóvar went on to make another possible ‘State as institution’ analogy in Bad Education where the lust administered by a pederast priest destroys rather than creates the possibility of love.

Another institution inculcated by Christianity is marriage, and the film riffs merrily on the theme, offering Ricky and Marina as a parody of marital love. There’s a funny scene where the two prepare to go out to get drugs from a doctor (Maria Barranco). Ricky puts on a false moustache and jokingly says they look like husband and wife. The visit to the doctor is disturbed by her two babies crying so Ricky picks them up, one in each arm looking every bit the father. Many of the later scenes in the apartment are played as possible husband/wife vignettes, both taking care of each other, peeing in front of each other, making love in a grand marital bed. When Marina needs something (drugs or phoning her mother) the ‘husband’ obliges as kindly as possible. Ricky becomes Marina’s emotional rock with whom she can’t live without at the film’s conclusion. Many married couples will note the many realities in marriage essayed in this film, especially the wish to tie each other down and make each other prisoners of the others’ desire. These ties can be both feared and desired, a dichotomy hinted at by the English title of the film – Tie Me Up! (masochistically) and Tie Me Down! (emotionally as a stabilizing factor). The Spanish title (Átame!) suggests just the former, but far from just exhibiting the sado-masochism as perceived by the film’s critics, the ropes and the tape visualize the essential emotional needs that run through all relationships, not just marriage. They become symbols of that thing that keeps all couples together – love itself.

There is another form of love present throughout this film, and that is the love of the film medium itself. Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down! is Almodóvar’s child and he loves it and fusses over it like a devoted father. This is expressed through the film-within-a-film device set up with the director Máximo Espejo playing the role of doppelgänger. This is part of Almodóvar’s essentially postmodern worldview which received first expression in another film-within-a-film in The Law of Desire and has continued right the way through to Broken Embraces (2009). Five postmodern features are very apparent to varying degrees in all his work and perhaps get their clearest expression in Kika (1993), Abril’s last film for him. They are all present and correct here, but the collective effect is much warmer given that passionate/obsessive love takes center stage and the couple drive off into the sunset completely free of the paranoia one usually associates with postmodernism. The five features are inter-textual pastiche (the genres of romantic comedy and horror welded together via meta-fiction), meta-fiction itself (the foregrounding of the creative process and the acceptance of more than one voice controlling the narrative, in this case Almodóvar speaking through Espejo who is making his own version of La Belle et la bête which merges with our main film from time to time), faction (a merging of real life with fiction shown in the ‘fact’ of Espejo making his film merging with the fiction of our film which he may or may not be controlling. Also the incorporation of a hilarious insurance TV CM comparing lifestyles for the old in Germany and Spain), paranoia (Marina is a classic postmodern heroine sucked into a vortex of conflicting desires and passions with no control over her addictive tendencies or her ultimate direction in life), and constant referencing to other art either existing or invented (the religious paintings, Espejo’s film, the CM, horror films – Frankenstein [1930], Invasion of the Body Snatchers [1956], Night of the Living Dead [1968], rom-coms – Pillow Talk [1959], That Touch of Mink [1962] – , and another hostage thriller – William Wyler’s The Collector [1965] based on a John Fowles novel).

It is significant that Almodóvar gives the role of Espejo to an icon of Spanish cinema, Francisco Rabal (famous as a Spanish star mainly for his Buñuel films who is thus associated with the ‘old’ tradition that Almodóvar is consciously now moving on from) and that he puts him in a wheelchair to make him a virtual human movie camera. Not only does this speak volumes about the voyeurism inherent in the cinematic process (Jimmy Stewart was in a wheelchair in Rear Window [1954] remember) with the director capturing everything he sees and being basically besotted by Marina whose old porno movies he studies morbidly while his ever-suffering wife (Julieta Serrano) looks on, but it also posits the whole filmmaking process as somehow sick, twisted and even dangerous. Espejo gets a couple of hilarious scenes, one where he leaves a romantic message on Marina’s answering machine equating himself with a famous matador being fêted on his balcony by the crowd, and another where he plays the bull to Lola’s matador when she dances at the party. A high shot looks down on the two, Lola’s red dress capturing the lunges of the wheelchair in various directions. The director’s love of his child (the film he is making) is conveyed in the scene after Ricky and Marina’s love scene where the final film runs out of the editing machine and Espejo fumes about needing to get Marina back to shoot a couple more scenes. His wife explains to Lola that he loves his film so much he doesn’t want to finish it. Also confirming this paternal love is the presence of the mother. Almodóvar’s own mother appears at the party dancing in the background and then later acts as Marina’s mother on the phone when Marina has to call home to ease people’s worries about her disappearance. This is also one of the pivotal scenes of the film where Marina’s hatred for Ricky turns into love.

Finally, though Almodóvar’s postmodern meta-cinematics run out and the film finishes on a beautiful and very moving statement of three key themes for this director. The first is a return to one’s roots, to one’s hometown. In this case Ricky’s hometown has ceased to exist and he returns only to sift through the ruins. We ponder his loss movingly as a car bears Marina and Lola toward him. This is the second theme of sisterhood surviving the perils of male patriarchy (Lola surviving the sexist comments of Espejo and Marina moving on from porno-stardom and transcending her initial repulsion to Ricky). From near the start of the film to the very end we have been treated to an inspired double act by Abril and León, León in particular pouting amazingly for the camera. A vivacious bundle of fun, she perfectly counterpoints Marina’s neurotic excess. Only a broad mind can accept her sister falling in love with her kidnapper and she proves her heart is as big as a mountain by not only accepting the situation but also welcoming her new (we assume) brother-in-law to the family fold. Indeed they all drive off together to live with their mother who is also Almodóvar’s mother of course! Finally, we have to acknowledge the tremendously moving statement of Almodóvar’s biggest theme of all – love. Love or “passion” dominates all his films, but here it gets its clearest, its boldest and possibly its greatest statement. As the car bears the three off singing into the sunset we acknowledge what a life-affirming experience watching this film is.
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on 9 February 2006
This is the film that launched Antonio Banderas to the rest of the world, his biggest hit at the time with Almodovar, and a worthy film to do such a job. Banderas plays a lonely man released from an institution, with one thing on his mind, to ‘rescue’ Victoria Abril’s character (an ex porn star, now film star) and protect her for life, a promise he made her when they slept together 1 night. As she doesn’t remember him, he has to kidnap her so that she will finally remember and love him. This film is typical Almodovar from this period, shocking, fabulous and hilarious and one of his best. When Abril finally remembers Banderas, it is hysterical.
The extra; finally on an Almodovar film we get extras, in this case a half hour interview recorded in 2002 with the director and Banderas, which is very funny and shows that both men are very charming and down to earth, and well worth watching.
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on 29 May 2007
Like a lot of Spanish films this is quirky and sexually explicit, and like some other Almodovar films (Hable Con Ella for example) quite morally ambiguous.

The plot is that Banderas' character kidnaps Victoria Abril's character and aims to keep her tied up until such time as she falls in love with him. However, it is hard to see Banderas' character as a straightforward "bad guy". He is clearly delusional and has mental health problems, which does not excuse what he's doing of course but enables at least a degree of empathy (EMPATHY not sympathy). Abril is no angel either - having a dependance on narcotics and of course, being a porn actress. Along the way there are some amusing characters who have some downright hilarious lines. The hemiplegic film director in particular is very funny.

I think that the film makes you challenge your own morals as you may - perhaps unwittingly - find yourself won over by Banderas'. If you like straightforward Hollywood good guy/bad guy stuff then this is probably not for you.

It's beautifully and colourfully shot, very well acted, entertaining throughout... and a soundtrack from Ennio Morricone doesn't hurt does it?
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on 30 June 2006
if you have not watched any other almodovar films then you may find this a little shocking. for almodovar however it is typical. extreme relationships and open sexuality seem to be some of his main themes so this isn't necessarily a film to wathc with your parents!

Banderas is fantastic, you can hardly take your eyes off him, but victoria abril makes a worthy opposite for him. watch out for some of the almodovar favourites dotted about the place- his brother, mother and various others appear.

this is a great film in it's own right, and one of my favourites. there are some great extras too- a spanish language interview between banderas and almodovar, and also the madrid premiere party. and don't be put off by the fact that everything is in spanish, banderas shines in his native language!
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TOP 500 REVIEWERon 18 March 2016
Pedro Almodovar’s bizarre love story (made in 1989) came in the middle of the writer-director’s most flamboyant (some might even say extreme) period of film-making, mixing together elements of comic farce, strong (liberal) sexual content and (often latent) tragic themes. The Spanish film-maker (like all great ones, arguably) was also beginning to build up a 'troupe’ of actors that would periodically reappear throughout his filmography – one of the many ‘fun’ elements in the man’s work is spotting the recurring familiar faces. I will admit to a slight preference for Almodovar’s later, 'more serious’ works, such as All About My Mother, Talk To Her and Volver, but, make no mistake, the earlier films, including TMUTMD, not only demonstrate in spades the film-maker’s almost unique visual eye, particularly in terms of use of colour and symbolism, but are also (invariably) shot through with elements of human tragedy, as well as social and political themes.

Films within films (and, indeed, stories within stories) are also a recurring motif of this director and here Victoria Abril’s ex-porn star and drug addict, the ditzy actress Marina Ozores has turned to (typically Almodovarian?) 'horror melodrama’ – in the form of Midnight Phantom, a reworking (as TMUTMD can, itself, be regarded) of The Beauty and The Beast – before being kidnapped ('as a girlfriend’) by Antonio Banderas’ equally troubled petty thief, Marina-obsessive and all-purpose hunk, Ricky. Some of the scenes of the making of Midnight Phantom are highlights, featuring Bunuel-veteran actor Francisco Rabal’s turn as the tyrannical (but 'personal’ and 'women’s director’) film director (and spoof on Almodovar himself?) Máximo Espejo, as well as Loles León (at times almost reprising her role from the previous year’s Women On The Verge Of A Nervous Breakdown) as the feisty, straight-talking sister to Marina (and assistant director on Midnight Phantom), Lola.

Almodovar here takes quite a risk with audience sympathy by setting his film up with essentially unlikeable (albeit disturbed for good reasons) central characters. Further, the film-maker’s apparent pessimism extends to the ('socially depraved’) portrayal of modern urban Spain – where, against a backdrop of ironic religious imagery (peppered throughout the film), crime and widespread drug use are rife. It is to the (rural Spanish) family tradition that Almodovar turns for salvation for Marina and Ricky, as the former recognises her and Ricky’s mutual yearning for their simple, rustic family upbringings, contrasted with a life of seedy glamour ('Your ass and my paralysis are part of our culture’ quips Espejo). As something of an aside, there is also an hilarious interlude in which Almodovar mocks both his home country and Germany in terms of their approaches to 'retirement planning’.

The film was controversial initially as a result of its explicit sexual content, including the passionate (kaleidoscopic ceiling mirror-reflected) coupling between Marina and Ricky (merely an updated, narratively-fully justified version of the famous scene from Don’t Look Now) and the (hilarious) depiction of the frogman-powered pleasure machine in Marina’s bath scene. Throughout, José Luis Alcaine’s cinematography is outstanding and the (admittedly sparse) soundtrack by the legendary Ennio Morricone is nicely judged (a particular highpoint here being its accompaniment to the ‘loving’ way in which Marina is tied up by Ricky one last time).

All-in-all, another vibrant, funny, visually spectacular and thematically sophisticated drama from a top cinematic talent.
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TOP 100 REVIEWERon 25 February 2015
I've never been so torn by a film.
For about the first hour I felt an intense dislike of both the film and the central male character Ricky played by Antonio Banderas, who comes across as a wholly unsympathetic psychopath, who kidnaps Marina, played by Victoria Abril, in her own home. Both performances are pitch-perfect, Abril offering a subtle and utterly truthful portrayal of an ex-porn star with a bad toothache who's 'going straight', and Banderas alternately loathsome and (as the film progresses) winning as her abductor.
Most of the action, once the kidnap is underway, is confined to Marina's, and also a neighbour's, apartment, in which she is repeatedly tied up, abused by Ricky and, in the second half of this admittedly brave film, won round by his dedication to her, however initially misguided.
Their lovemaking is shown fairly explicitly, and is bracingly realistic - in a way Hollywood rarely even attempts - and the final minutes are audacious and barely credible, which in an odd way is the film's final saving grace.
I can't help but admit that the film, and its initial premise, irritated me beyond measure for a good portion of its running time, but Almodovar is an unlikely safe pair of hands, and ultimately tells a crazily compassionate tale, aided no end by Abril and Banderas, who are both brilliant in this perverse 'comedy'.
It is interesting, to say the least, to imagine, say, Doris Day and Rock Hudson, or Grant and Hepburn, in these same roles. Well, why not?
I'll watch this again, and I would never have said that during this confounding film's first hour or so.
Don't that beat all!
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on 23 September 2013
I honestly did not know what to expect from this film--but glad i watched it.I first went to the 'special features' section,and watched the interview between Banderas and Almodovar and found this to be very interesting and informative for the film.So the film itself--well very good indeed.Banderas' character[Ricky] is discharged from a mental care facility,where it is clear he has been'a bad kitty!!!'with one lady in particular.However,--he tries,and succeeds ,in finding an old flame,who is now a'B'movie porn starlet.He keeps her just to himself by force,sometimes and this is a type of character different for Banderas[in general].The film was very watchable and there was only one small scene,when I thought'YUK!!!!-WAS THAT REALLY NECESSARY??]But it is only one very small scene.It kept me very well entertained and,yes it is subtitled from the Spanish,but that does not detract at all.I would also advise anyone to go the 'special features' and watch the Madrid Premiere scene---for the very good piece of music.Understandably,this film would not be for everyone.But try it--you just may like.
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on 11 January 2007
This is a weird little film - what's new in Almodovar-land - and as unlikely as it may be, the tale of a kidnapped porn star and her hostage taker ends up being a beautiful and engaging story that genuinely captivates. Antonio Banderas is on fine (slightly hyperactive) form and the women of the piece, as always, are strong and individual characters. I saw this so many years ago but it remains a favourite and Almodovar has yet to release a film that captures my imagination as much as this one did.
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on 15 April 2013
I don't really want to write 19 more words. I think Great would have sufficed. Fish trampoline paint poop tunnel!
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