Pedro Almodóvar

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The TV show Desperate Housewives knew disparate influences, from Andrea Yates to Douglas Sirk, but more than anything it’s the most mainstream distillation ever of the influence of Pedro Almodóvar, one of the handful of cinema masters on the planet. In a Financial Times piece by Raphael Abraham, the director acknowledges the drift of talent and vision to smaller screens. An excerpt: 

“Almodóvar came to prominence during ‘La Movida,’ the Madrid counterculture that, following Franco’s death in 1975, enthusiastically cast off the oppressive mantle of dictatorship and embraced hedonism alongside sexual and political liberation. With their colourful and brazen depictions of modern Spanish life, Almodóvar’s earliest films shocked audiences and critics alike.

This power to shock remains intact. In preparation for our meeting I made the mistake of watching Pepi, Luci, Bom and Other Girls On the Heap (1980) on a laptop while riding the London Tube. Within the first 20 minutes of Almodóvar’s crudely shot debut feature there is a rape scene and an eye-popping encounter in which a young punk girl walks in on a knitting class and urinates on a masochistic Madrid housewife who purrs with delight. Already attracting disapproving looks from my fellow passengers, I only just managed to snap shut the laptop lid before she hoisted up her skirt.

Such extreme examples aside, the kind of domestic transgression with which Almodóvar made his name can today be found in mainstream US television series such as Desperate Housewives, Nurse Jackie and Breaking Bad. ‘I think at the moment in the US they’re producing TV that is much closer to reality than the cinema is,’ he says. ‘Breaking Bad is like early Scorsese, the most brutal, most acid television. And, over five series, every episode is a masterpiece of scriptwriting, direction and exaggeration — not that they exaggerate reality but that they’re dealing with a reality that is already very extreme. Breaking Bad, I think, is the culmination of American fictional TV.’

In this regard, he says, it is outstripping film.”

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The Skin I Live In
Our largest organ is both home and prison, protecting and exposing us, even stretching and shaping identity and world view. Without a shred of gray matter, skin plays a central role in forming the way we think, as responses we get from others based on our outward appearance–attractiveness, color, gender–can train us to be someone we may not want to be. Two great films about the importance of skin and self, Georges Franju’s Eyes Without a Face and Hiroshi Teshigahara’s Face of Another, both focus on what’s above the neck. But Pedro Almodóvar, with his designer’s eye and philosopher’s mind, audaciously extends the odd and vital subgenre beneath the chin and below the belt.

Dr. Robert Ledgard (Antonio Banderas) is a brilliant plastic surgeon, pushing the boundaries of his field, but life has toyed with him. As we learn, both his wife and daughter have committed suicide after horrific incidents. Ledgard, haunted and gaunt, has felt too much pain and now can only possess, not love. Kept prisoner in a room in his sprawling estate is a mysterious petite woman (Elena Anaya) in a form-fitting body suit. When he isn’t grafting onto her body an indestructible, synthetic second skin he’s developed, the demented doctor watches her on a large-screen TV, plotting his next move.

But who is this woman and why has Ledgard chosen her for such heinous experimentation? Was she a very different person when the surgeries began? And who will she end up being, both inside and out, as the surgeon continues his incisions and sutures? Almodóvar answers some questions but not all in this probing, sinister study of the flesh, which not only covers us but sometimes smothers us.• Watch trailer.

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Recent films I liked now on home video:

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"There Will Be Blood."

From Maren Ade to Terry Zwigoff, there are close to 100 directors who did exceptional work over the past decade yet don’t have a film on Affllictor’s Top 20 Films of the Aughts list. But the difficult paring-down process is complete. In alphabetical order, here are the lucky devils who made the grade:

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