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The living end >> Almodóvar's in fine form with Live Flesh by MATTHEW HAYS If there is one thing queer Spanish director Pedro Almodóvar does well--and there are indeed many--it is his creation of erotic sequences. Bodies entangle in contortionist love scenes, creating strikingly beautiful compositions. In Live Flesh, the filmmaker who brought Antonio Banderas to international attention has discovered his next talented stud, Liberto Rabal, who ignites virtually every scene of the film in which he appears. Almodóvar has complained in interviews he can no longer afford Banderas (who commands a reported $5 million per movie), and if the director's really unlucky, Rabal will soon be priced out of his range as well.
In terms of previous work, Live Flesh's sprawling cast and bizarre plot harken back most closely to Law of Desire. The plot is a tad more focused, and there are no transsexuals or loud sight gags thrown into the mix. Certainly, along with his last film The Flower of My Secret, Live Flesh marks a sea change in the director's tone. While some critics have pointed to this altered course as a sign of maturity in the filmmaker, I found myself longing for the earlier zaniness of Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown or Kika. While the erotic Live Flesh is still well worth the while, one can only hope Almodóvar hasn't left his trademarked universe of a wild, clandestine Madrid entirely behind. Opens Friday, Feb. 13. See film listings for showtimes
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In a typically wacky twist, Almodóvar opens Live Flesh with the birth of his protagonist (Rabal), which happens on a bus as his mother is rushed to hospital in labour. Cut to 20 years later and poor Rabal is caught up in a bizarre series of misunderstandings. Rabal rings the apartment of a woman (played by Francesca Neri) he met one night in a club. She presumes the gentleman caller is her dealer, as she desperately waits for some dope. When Rabal refuses to leave her apartment, she retrieves her father's gun and threatens to shoot him. When two police officers arrive, the gun drops and shoots one of the cops (Javier Bardem) in the spine. Rabal is blamed for the gunshot and goes to prison for seven years; Neri, overcome by guilt, ends up marrying the paraplegic Bardem. When Rabal gets out of prison, he happens upon Neri by chance and the two end up having an affair. In keeping with most of Almodóvar's oeuvre, there's plenty of Catholic guilt and multiple plot twists abound.