New York Film Festival Reviews September 29 – October 15, 2006 Lincoln Center

Michael Apted’s
49Up
2006 New York Film Festival

Reviewed by Frank J. Avella

The Up Series is one of the monumental cinematic achievements of our time. Documenting the lives of fourteen British children, beginning at age seven and continuing every seven years, the collection of documentaries --available in a fantastic, must-own box set (7-42) by First Run features-- are mind-boggling in their allure.

Yet one does not have to see the preceding six entries to understand, enjoy and become thoroughly engrossed in 49 Up (although I highly recommend it). Apted structures each film so the audience is privvy to most of the previous material that feeds the current interviews.

What began as a study of the British class system has become a mesmerizing sociological look at the evolution of the human being.

Take the fascinating case of Suzy. Raised in affluence, at age seven you’d call her precocious. By fourteen she was downright obnoxious and at twenty-one, a chainsmoking, nervous mess of a brat you wanted to strangle. You were hard pressed not to loathe her. The amazing thing is that at twenty-eight, she had completely evolved into a grown up. She was quite lovely actually. (And she gave her husband, Rupert, the credit.)

Over the next twenty-one years, Suzy has proven to be one of the most sympathetic and captivating of all the subjects. And she is quite candid when asked about her participation in the series: “It’s not an experience I’ve enjoyed in any way...very difficult...very painful.” She goes on to hope that she will come to her senses and not participate in the future. I, for one, will be terribly disappointed if that happens as I feel Suzy is the most transformed of all the subjects and I now adore her!

Even more harsh in her admonishment of Apted is Jackie, a fiesty divorcee who challenges Apted about audacious questions he has asked her. Rather volatile and resentful, Jackie provides the viewers with honest insight into what it must be like to have to endure such an invasion of privacy every seven years.

Some like Charles have inexplicably refused to participate. Oddly, Charles works for the BBC making documentaries himself and appears to be in political sync with the filmmakers yet has declined participation since twenty-one. Apted angrily admits to being “profoundly irritated” by this.

Another example of how lives change drastically is Neil, who went from being a sweet, intelligent and promising youth to someone of questionable sanity living on the streets. In the last decade, he has gotten his life together and is now working as a liberal councillor.

Certainly one of the most amiable of the group is Tony, the West End taxi driver who, as a boy, dreamed of being a jockey. He has since married, had children and is forever smiling despite the ups and downs in his personal life.

Apted agrees that the films have become more about the lives of the subjects as opposed to the conflicts of class. This makes it even more riveting.

One of the wonders of 49 Up and the entire Up Series, to this viewer, is how, after watching each installment, I’ve taken a look at my own life-- how I have changed and coped with tragedy and the delights of getting older. Like the subjects, I have analyzed my life in terms of my dreams and goals (they, of course have little choice in the matter) And mostly it makes me wish I had footage of myself as a seven year old so I could see how I was back then...WHAT I was back then and if the notion “give me a child until he is seven and I will give you the man’ could be applied to me as well.

There’s an ongoing debate about the value of such a non-fiction film. Well, as cinema documentary, it certainly makes for good watching. As far as it being objective, how can it be? There are too many factors involved, but Apted does try and in 49 he even admits to having certain prejudices and preconceived notions when conducting the interviews through the years.

What may be the most remarkable thing about the series is how the films themselves have impacted the lives of the subjects--for good and otherwise. The installments have certainly played an important part in their lives whether they admit it or not. And that itself, is rather disturbing and beguiling.

Michael Apted and his gaggle of participants should be lauded for a landmark documentary. So how many Up films must Apted make before he’s even nominated for a bloody Oscar???

---

Zacharias Kunuk and Norman Cohn’s
The Journals of Knud Rasmussen
2006 New York Film Festival

Reviewed by John Harris

Roman Polanski's
Knife in the Water
Poland, 1962
50 Years of Janus Films
2006 New York Film Festival

Reviewed by John Harris

As part Janus films 50th Anniversary celebration, the New York film festival will be showing many of Janus' most popular entries as well as some of the more obscure ones in their collection. One of them, a brand new print of Roman Polanski's, Knife in the Water, will be shown Sunday Oct. 1st at 6:30pm as well as Monday Oct. 2nd at 8:30pm and Wednesday Oct. 4th at 2pm.

Knife in the Water was Polanski's first feature length film. Polanski went on to direct such suspense masterpieces as Repulsion, Rosemary's Baby, The Tenant and Chinatown. Speaking of knives, who can forget the scene in Chinatown where Polanski's nasty little mug sticks a knife in Jack Nicholson's nose and slices it open! It was shot in black and white (as are many of the films in the Janus collection) and it is a beauty.

In Knife in the Water, a man and woman are driving along a country road when suddenly they are accosted by a hitchhiker who almost literally throws himself in front of the car. He is offered a ride in spite of the mayhem he has almost caused and therein the "fun" begins. A moody saxophone interjects at various points and suddenly, he ends up being a passenger on the couples boat.

"Let the game begin." Says the hitchhiker.

This is a timeless movie, utilizing classic themes. The knife of the title refers to an enormous gravity knife the hitchhiker caries. He tells the couple it is useful for "hiking." Polanski, who collaborated on the script with Jerzy Skolimowski and Jakub Goldberg, takes a cue from his fellow Pole and artist Joseph Conrad, and places most of the action on a sailboat using the boat as a metaphor. Sometimes the boat, like we fragile human beings, ends up going around in circles. The two men end up competing with one another, vying for the wife's attention. Will she? Wont she? And with which one? Meanwhile the knife lurks menacingly in the background, ready to jump into use.

Leon Niemczyk as Andrzej and Zygmunt Malanowicz as the young hitchhiker are well matched as the aging alpha male "skipper?" versus the young disaffected youth "little buddy!". Polanski's seamless direction enables the actors to reach deep inside themselves for subtle nuance. Jolanta Umecka as Krystyna is cryptically enigmatic untill the very end when her true feelings emerge. With her gaudy diamond studded glasses and bemused expression, she watches the two men competing with each other. Like two rams butting heads, they often seem oblivious to her presence. She is perfect with her Mona Lisa smile.

The film has been digitally restored and then transferred back to neg. Shot almost entirely on a lake, the cinematography is economical yet ingenious. Allegedly, one of the shots was situated from the top of the mast of the sailboat and during one of the shots the cameraman accidentally dropped the camera into the lake, where it still lies to this day!

There is one scene in the film where the young hitchhiker is trying to get away from the boat before it docks and he very acrobatically skips across some pilings toward the shore. Very beautiful. Polanski even manages to get a good performance from the clouds and the weather. The shot in low contrast filmstorm scene, a gentle summer tempest that forces the crew downstairs and enables them to engage in more subtle posturing, is hauntingly moody.

Apparently much of the dialogue in the film was post dubbed, including Polanski's voice being used for the hitchhiker. Having been filmed in Iron curtain Poland, it has been suggested that this project may have been conducted on the sly, without the knowledge of Polish authorities. Or perhaps it was just budgetary considerations that prompted the need for less words and more non verbal expressiveness. Not to mention the lack of a supporting cast.

Part of Janus films renewed mission, apart from restoration efforts with films like Knife in the Water is reaching out to an entirely new generation of film-goers who probably have not had the opportunity to view such films. The New York film Festival is proudly showcasing thirty of these classic movies throughout October as part of Janus' 50th Anniversary. A chance to see some of the greatest movies ever made!

For more information on the Film Festival: http://www.filmlinc.com/nyff/nyff.htm.

---

David Lynch’s
Inland Empire
2006 New York Film Festival

Reviewed by Frank J. Avella

In keeping with the surreal spirit of David Lynch’s spellbinding AND maddening new cine-dream, Inland Empire, this review will exist solely of dialogue culled directly from the non-linear film expressing this reviewers feelings about it...or not...the brainbending three-hour saga features strong acting by Laura Dern and Justin Theroux as well as a few giant rabbits...

“Oh, that’s original!”
“It doesn’t make any sense.”
“I’m going to find out one day.”
“I’ll push you to hell!”
“It’s an old story...”
“Where’s the paper towels?”
“Cast out this wicked dream!”
“They all go their own peculiarities.”
“What’s the point?”
“I’m sitting there wondering, how can this be?”
“This monkey can scream.”
“It’s kinda laid a mindfuck on me.”

Inland Empire is still without a US distributor.

---

 

Little Children premiered at the New York Film Festival and opened Friday, October 6th

The less written about Little Children, the long-awaited follow-up to Todd Field’s riveting In The Bedroom, the better. Not because it isn’t a good film. Quite the contrary, Little Children is, by far, one of the best film’s of 2006.

Based on the novel by Tom Perrotta, the pic has been admirably adapted by Mr. Perrotta and Mr. Field to tell a startling and penetrating story. Field masterfully directs his actors, all of whom deliver rich and nuanced performances, some of the most intrusive you’ll see onscreen this year.

To give away too much about Little Children or discuss key scenes would be to rob the audiences of one of the most rewarding filmgoing experiences. Suffice to synopsize that the plot focuses on a gaggle of suburbanites whose lives intersect (mostly around a playground) in surprising, exciting, uncomfortable and, ultimately, profound ways.

But realize, Little Children is no contrived bevvy of manipulations along the lines of last years ridiculously overrated Crash.The film is filled with fascinating themes rarely explored onscreen so intelligently. And the tone is somewhere between where realism and melodrama meet.

The brilliant ensemble is flawless, beginning with a magically transformed Kate Winslet. Always mesmerizing, this is her finest hour (which is saying a great deal when you stack up her work in Sense and Sensibility, Titanic, Iris and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind) and solidifies her standing as the most outstanding actress of her generation.

Patrick Wilson, terrific in Hard Candy earlier in the year, delivers a career-making turn. It would be too easy to overlook the importance of his potent portrayal of a perfect looking, all-American jock who has never grown up.

Jackie Earle Haley is to be commended for taking on a difficult role and fearlessly diving into it with his entire being. It’s remarkable work from an actor who hasn’t been seen in movies in a few decades.

The beautiful Jennifer Connelly fascinates with her role as the perfect wife. Powerhouse Phyliss Somerville impresses as a fiercely protective mother. Noah Emmerich amazes in a role that could easily have been one-dimensional. Also of note is Jane Adams who appears briefly, yet leaves quite the lasting impression.

Little Children is an incredibly smart and extraordinary piece of cinema. It is unafraid to explore its characters, warts and all, and delve into their psyches. Sometimes what is discovered isn’t very easy to watch but is worth the anguish.

See it. You will not leave the theatre unaffected.

---

Sofia Coppola’s
Marie Antionette
2006 New York Film Festival

Yet another Queen has been anointed onto the New York Film Festival throne.

Reviewed by Frank J. Avella

Sofia Coppola’’s follow up to the sublimely meditative, Lost in Translation and her haunting directorial debut, The Virgin Suicides, proves that she’s a filmmaker to be reckoned with. Forget her pedigree. Okay, that’s impossible. So let’s blatantly announce that, like her genius father, she is capable of making small personal films as well as stunning, sweeping sagas. And, also like her father, her cinematic vision is distinctly her own.

Marie Antoinette is an exciting and invigorating film about France’s notorious 18th Century queen that has the power and majesty of Shekhar Kapur’s Elizabeth and mod satiric sensibility of Amy Heckerling’s Clueless.

Based on the 2002 book by Antonia Fraser, Coppola’s heroine is a lonely and confused teen thrust into an opulent, decadent world she was none too prepped for.

From the pink opening credits, set to an 80’s rock score, where Marie ‘eats cake’ and stares directly at the camera with a kind of jaded irony. to the scene where she must leave all of Austria behind and enter France naked, Coppola’s creates a sumptuous milieu, brimming over with protocol, pomp and pomposity.

Marie is quite effectively played by Kirsten Dunst, who, ironically enough, gave one of her best screen performances in Coppola’s Virgin Suicides. Dunst goes even further here etching a vivid portrait of a naive teen forced to take on ridiculous responsibilities and live under a massive and judgmental microscope. Dunst’s Marie is sometimes silly, occasionally vapid and usually perplexed. She’s alluring, but not deliberately so. And she’s naturally charismatic without being an egotist. Since the film basically hinges on the casting of the title character, Coppola can be applauded for choosing wisely.

Jason Schwartzman, nepotism notwithstanding, is an odd selection for Louis XV!, yet he brings an unexpected poignancy to the bland and usually impotent future King of France.

The divine Judy Davis plays the Contesse de Noailles and perfectly captures the court attitude of the day. The rest of the supporting cast includes Asia Argento; Shirley Henderson; Molly Shannon; Rip Torn; Marianne Faithfull and the chameleonic Steve Coogan. It’s a uniformly fine, if peculiar, ensemble.

Aiding Coppola in creating her “candy and cake” world are a splendid team led by awesome production designer KK Barrett, ace DP Lance Acord and genius costume designer Milena Canonero. Brian Reitzell is the terrific music supervisor and producer.

Coppola should also be lauded for spinning an ingenious feminist view on the story of Marie Antoinette. Scenes involving Marie being blamed by EVERYONE for her husband’s sexual inadequacies are quite off-putting.

Despite an unsatisfying ending (ten more epilogue minutes could have made the difference), Marie is one of the year’s finest film achievements.

---

Nikolaus Geyrhalter’s
Our Daily Bread
2006 New York Film Festival
Nikolaus Geyrhalter’s
Our Daily Bread
2006 New York Film Festival

Years ago, critic and novelist James Agee wrote a story about a steer in the Chicago stockyards who rebels against his fate. There is a scene in Our Daily Bread in which steer after steer are led to an execution pen and quickly dispatched. One of the steers desperately rebels against his fate despite the hopelessness of any escape because there is no escape from these mechanized killing machines. The director editor team of Nikolaus Geyralther and Wolfgang Widerhofer, who also collaborated on such films as Washed Ashore, The Day After Dayton, Elsewhere and Senid and Edis, have crafted an ironic indictment of the food production industry.

What is this film about exactly? The banality of eating? Man's inhumanity to plants? It's hard to say because there is little dialogue and Geyralther forgoes the interview style format that has normally accompanied his work. The movie is much more effective without a bunch of talking heads explaining what is going on. He lets the machines speak for themselves. They speak with an elegant economy and tell us all we need to know about ourselves. If it wasn't for those clumsy humans that are still unavoidably necessary to the maintenance and expediting of these machines, we could bring your packaged hamburger meat to you even faster! In fact, the humans are essentially reduced to automatons in this film, struggling to keep up with the pace of production. The only time we see the humans at rest is when they are eating. There is a blond woman depicted in the film who might just as easily have been one of the death camp guards Auschwitz with her bland indifference to the slaughter going on around her. She too is shown eating, dreamily staring off into space as she munches on a peanut butter sandwich.

Some of the scenes in the film are hilarious; if one could superimpose the old Raymond Scott theme "Powerhouse'” (used in the Warner Brothers Merry Melodies cartoons) over the proceedings it would be perfect. There is an elegant choreography to the graceful movement to these machines. One scene involves two women transferring baby chicks from a conveyor belt to wooden crates. They can barely keep up with the flow of chicks! Another woman with a knife awaits the flow of full grown chickens, her only apparent function to cutoff excess skin from around the amputated chicken necks.

This is truly a vision of hell! One of the more curious scenes involves two men chatting on an elevator as it descends into the bowels of the earth. Where are they going? What food could possibly be produced so deep into the earth? One is reminded of the scene at the very end of Angel Heart where Mickey Roarke descends into hell via an enormous service elevator. For those with an appetite for the absurd this film is often laugh-out-loud funny. For those with weak stomachs, bring a barf bag.

McDonald's anyone?

---

Warren Beatty’s
Reds
2006 New York Film Festival

Reviewed by Frank J. Avella

One of the most underrated and underappreciated films of the modern era is Warren Beatty’s masterpiece Reds, which has been given a 25th Anniversary retrospective showing at this year’s New York Film Festival as well as playing for a week exclusively at the Village East Cinema.

One can attribute its startling absence from recent all-time best film lists (and how silly are those, but we do get caught up in them) to the fact that the flick has never been available on DVD. Thankfully, that’s about to change on October 17th when Paramount finally releases a 2-disc special edition with a slew of extras and the film in it’s fully restored glory! (Interesting to note that way back when laserdiscs were the popular format for cinephiles, a special, Warren-approved edition was announced yet never materialized.)

Seeing Reds again on the big screen is a joyous experience. The last of the great epics (Beatty says that it was the last movie to use an intermission), Reds proves even timelier today than back in 1981.

Rarely does a film about ideas come out of Hollywood. Reds’ focus is on John Reed and the Russian revolution but is also the story of the evolution of the American left. Ballsy. Daring. Incredulous? How the hell did it get made?

Beatty, who chose to do NO press when the film opened all those many moons ago, recalls that he had to make a few commerical films first (Shampoo, Heaven Can Wait). He had written a treatment as early as 1970. Years later he had access to many of the people who graduated with Reed at Harvard’s Class of 1910. He interviewed these “witnesses” and brilliantly incorporated their memories into the film. Groundbreaking at the time, it has since been appropriated by some of our best filmmakers. (Woody Allen satirized the technique in his comedic gem, Zelig in 1983).

Reds was shot in 1979 and after two years of post, was released in the Reagan 80’s. Critically acclaimed (NY Film Critics Best Picture, etc.), audiences didn’t seem to know what to make of it. Even the Academy showered it with an astounding twelve Oscar nominations, but then only awarded the film three (a deserved one for Beatty as Best Director). Today, one realizes how before-it’s-time the epic actually was as it resonates with modern politics.

Warren Beatty was quite proud, appropriately verbose and and giddily enthusiastic at a recent press conference for the film. He spoke proudly of his gem and his cast which boasts the astonishing Diane Keaton as Louise Bryant, in a spectacularily complex performance as well as the mesmerizing Jack Nicholson as enigmatic playwright Eugene O’Neill. Beatty, himself, is immensely impressive and endearing as Reed and Maureen Stapleton (who won a Supporting Oscar) is a fabulous Emma Goldman.

Beatty likens making a film to vomiting: “It’s not something I want to do. It’s not fun when I’m doing it. But I always feels better once I do it.”

We should all be grateful that he suffered through the regurgitation since Reds is a work of art the likes of which we are not likely to ever see again.

---

 

Stephen Frears’s
The Queen
Opens Friday, September 29, 2006
Opening Night Film of the New York Film Festival
2006 New York Film Festival

Reviewed by Frank J. Avella

Edgy and ballsy simply for taking on a living monarch, Stephen Frears’ The Queen also proves to be a fascinating, smart and insightful chronicle of one extraordinary week back in the late summer of 1997 that would change the world view of the Royals forever.

Princess Diana was a mythic figure alive. Her death--the death of the “People’s Princess”--seemed to overwhelm England and the world with a profound grief that would quickly turn to anger (I recall that Mother Theresa had the misfortune to die the same week, receiving virtually a footnote worth of media attention in comparison). Much of that anger was directed at the Royal family, specifically the Queen and how she publicly refused to react to the tragedy.

Raised to behave a certain way when it came to personal matters like grief, Queen Elizabeth and the crowns remained true to protocol form and stayed quiet at their Scottish retreat in Balmoral as the world publicly mourned. Were it not for the urgings of the newly elected Prime Minister, Tony Blair, who carefully talked the Queen into journeying to London for a long overdue public statement, it’s quite possible the English people might have demanded the abolishment of the monarchy itself. A gross overreaction? That is something The Queen leaves for the viewers to decide.

Screenwriter Peter Morgan has taken this audacious subject matter and treated it with an intelligence and understanding of all sides involved.

The truly amazing feat is accomplished by the fearless Helen Mirren who allows the audience to understand this complex and difficult figurehead and forgive her proprietary ways. Mirren’s superb performance is a meticulous combination of perfect mimicry of speech and movement as well as ingenius incorporation of backstory psychology--she enables us to empathize with this superwoman without feeling the need to pander by sentimentalizing her. It’s enough to know that she was NOT destined to become Queen at birth. The throne was thrust upon her and she was forced to rule. She did so without ever looking back and Mirren’s portrayal embodies this strong, courageous, maddening monarch.

The surrounding ensemble are extraordinary as well. Michael Sheen, in particular, shines as the young, ambitious yet starstruck Blair who is truly trying to save the day: “Will someone please save these people from themselves.” Blair feels tremendously for the Queen and Sheen dazzles in a powerful third act speech defending her majesty to his disillusioned staff.

Production values are grand across the boards. Special kudos to Alexandre Desplat’s most effective score.

Frears’ decision to use real footage, especially that of Diana, proves incredibly potent and adds to the film’s relevance. The director and screenwriter are to be commended for never spilling over into satire or costume drama. The Queen is fantastically rich cinema with refreshingly complicated characters. It also contains one hell of an Oscar worthy lead performance!

The Queen opens this years New York Film Festival. For more information on the Film Festival: http://www.filmlinc.com/nyff/nyff.htm.

---

Johnnie To’s
Triad Election
2006 New York Film Festival

Reviewed by John Harris

Johnnie To has been cranking out gangster movies for twenty eight years. His hard boiled, clockwork-driven meditations on power and destiny have worked their way into the west in recent years. Triad Election is actually his second Election film; he made his first appearance at the 2003 New York Film Festival in 2003 with PTU.

Triad Election is about a struggle for power among the Wo Sing, Hong Kong’s oldest Triad. The Triads (Hong Kong based gangs) evolved in the late 1800's when Hong Kong was locked in under British rule.

Although Johnnie To claims no influence by Francis Ford Coppola's The Godfather, he has acknowledged seeing his work. However, there are similarities between Triad Election and The Godfather. There is a struggle for power amongst gang leaders. A young up-and-coming gangster with an M.B.A. named Jimmy wants to go legitimate. He has developed connections with some Hong Kong businessmen who overlook his Triad affiliation. In one evocative scene, he takes his beautiful young wife on a walk up a scenic hill overlooking Hong Kong and tells her, "We will build our house here! Our sons will become doctors and lawyers!"

But Jimmy is stuck in the Triad world and his profitable outside enterprises have come to the attention of some of the elders in the triads, including Uncle Tem, who appears to be one of Jimmy's mentors. Uncle Tem angrily tells Jimmy that he must run for Chairmanship of the Wo Sing; that he must follow his destiny. Jimmy is also being followed by a shadowy Security Bureau Chief from the mainland. The Bureau Chief gives Johnnie a choice, run for Chairmanship of the Wo Sing and he will be given access to the lucrative business market of the mainland.

Jimmy is opposed by Lok, the incumbent chairman who wants to go against tradition and run for re-election. Lok, played by Simon Yam (a veteran of the Hong Kong film industry), is a man consumed by his power and destined for a tragic fate. His performance is easily the best in the film. Louis Koo plays Jimmy with a subdued intensity. The scene in a dog kennel where Jimmy coldly murders a rival gangster is evocative of the chainsaw dismemberment scene in Scarface. Mr. To uses violence to create an overwhelming sense of foreboding and anxiety. He also uses percussive sound and reaction shots to hint at what is going on, without actually showing much of it. There are no blood pellets here, just an inexorable sense of dread.

The ensemble of actors (an assortment of mugs, gunsels, knife-wielding-punk-rock-teenagers, and punch drunk tomato cans) carry out their orders with grim determination. The Bureau Chief, played by Yau Yung, radiates ultimate authority. Jimmy's chess-like moves may win him the Chairmanship of the Wo Sing, but he is only another pawn in the game. We all have to answer to someone and the next chairman of Wo Sing may well be answering to him for many years to come. In Johnnie To's violent world it is about the acquisition of power. All else is window dressing.

---

 

Pedro Almodovar's
Volver
The Centerpiece Film at the 2006 New York Film Festival
Opens November 3, 2006

Reviewed by Brian Shirey

There aren’t many filmmakers these days who could be categorized by that old-time Hollywood standby, the “woman’s director.” Actually, there are none -- except for Pedro Almodovar. In Volver, the Spanish auteur doesn’t disappoint, unfolding a tale of three generations of women living in La Mancha, Spain that is alternately hilarious, warm, wry, disturbing, and, in a manner virtually patented by Almodovar himself, gently surreal.

Death is the organizing principle behind Volver’s very engaging script. The film opens on a shot of women polishing gravestones of loved ones, which leads to the introduction of Raimunda (Penelope Cruz) and Sole (Lola Dueñas), sisters who lost both their parents in a fire some years earlier. Rounding out the all-female cast are Paula, Raimunda’s teenage daughter, and Agustina, a neighbor who serves to draw out some of the story’s many secrets. Therein, by the way, lies the challenge to reviewing Volver: So much of it is about discovery and revelation, any full plot synopsis might flirt with ruining the film’s distinctive pleasures.

Early on in Volver, the women visit Aunt Paula, a doddering old lady who has an uncanny ability to take care of herself despite her infirmities. Almodovar brilliantly observes here how women interact with each other. As a filmmaker, he can be gloriously over-the-top. “Colorful” is in my parlance to describe his style, but it’s as much about the look as the tone. In these early scenes, however, he steps back to show us a community of females with decidedly working-class backgrounds, who are committed to family above all and for whom health and well-being are the primary subjects of conversation. You can almost feel how much Almodovar loves them; their presence focuses everything about his direction. The first fifteen minutes of Volver show us all we need to know about the characters before the story begins, but they also contain: non-stop talk, two different kissing rituals, feasting on phallic wafers and no men whatsoever.

Finally, a guy appears -- Raimunda’s husband. He’s a leering, sports-obsessed, beer-happy, good-for-nothin’ couch slug, which might be offensive if Volver was not such a fanciful parable about the resilient life force of the female sex. Consequently, also allowable are unlikely coincidences involving death, some sloppy (and comical) crime scene management, jarring plot turns, and most significantly, the inexplicable appearance of a ghost, played by Almodovar’s original muse, Carmen Maura. She’s the dead mother of Raimunda and Sole, but I’ll stop there…

Volver (which means “coming back”) then proceeds in the realm of the hyper-real, which Almodovar presents as a way of life for the women. They’re over-sensitive to nature, like the meaning of the river nearby, or the destructive power of the East wind. Raimunda and Sole harbor intense parallel secrets, not necessarily because they have to, but because there’s almost too much emotion involved. As the film proceeds, the cinematography gets more expressive. We see a great deal of life cycle imagery, from the giant power-generating fans in the Spanish countryside to Almodovar’s rather infamous (judging from his previous films) concentration on female breasts.

The performances are appropriately warm; there’s a sense that the ensemble spent a lot of time together before the cameras rolled. Maura is a marvel. She embodies the emotional weight caused by her character’s rather shocking presence, but still captures a sense of playfulness (as a ghost, she’s required to sneak around and hide) that is decidedly un-motherly. As Agustina, newcomer Blanca Portillo plays a maudlin role with a poignancy that is sharp and restrained. Dueñas has the most lightweight part, but she has her moments, too, particularly in a deftly performed scene of striking revelation that is a pivotal point to Volver’s last act.

All final praise, however, goes to Penelope Cruz, who I confess I’ve always found to be stiff and inexpressive, and her brain-dead Hollywood choices (I’m not talking about dating Matthew McConaughey) certainly never elevated her integrity as an actress. Sahara, anyone? In Volver, I first recognize the fact that Almodovar loves her, and Almodovar’s personal affection, which is the foundation of his entire art, must be a profound influence. But I don’t want to rob Cruz of credit. Raimunda is an extremely rich role that’s a bit of a rollercoaster, plus Cruz has to sing a song and command a compelling sub-plot that plays like a Hitchcock thriller. She braves through it all, and is always convincing, even in close-up. (This is not a cleavage reference).

It’s arguable that she’s too young and glamorous for the part, but Cruz’s beauty shows a weary edge here, and in the fiery earth-mother way in which she walks and dresses, I was reminded of Sophia Loren in her gritty 1960’s work with Vittorio De Sica (a la Two Women). Cruz’s performance deepens when she and Maura have a key scene late in the film. We learn more about Raimunda, and it’s powerful to realize that Cruz has been playing this emotional hurt all along. For his part, Almodovar covers the moment with a beautifully expressive camera move that raises the personal bond of this mother and daughter to a higher, and more universal, plane.

In the end, Volver is a celebration of women as survivors against the greatest of obstacles, even death. Almodovar, who directed Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown and Talk to Her, is a “woman’s movie buff,” too, so it’s no mistake when Volver shows us a character watching TV and the figure stretched across the screen is Anna Magnani, the famous Italian film actress known for her bravura passion and magnificent strength. She might just be the patron saint of Volver, but also of Almodovar’s career.

One final note: In the They Deserve It department, all the women in Volver collectively won the Best Actress Award at Cannes this year, and Almodovar won for Screenplay. Watch out, Oscar.