ALMODÓVAR’S ‘PAIN’ IS A PLEASURE
Autobiographical in spirit if not in detail, 70-year-old Spanish director Pedro Almodóvar’s sweetly moving “Pain & Glory” is the work of a man looking back on his life with a poignant mixture of regret, remembrance and release. The result is one of the best films of his long career.
Antonio Banderas, in a subtle and strong performance, is Salvador Mallo, a Madrid-based film director in a state of serious creative decline. Hobbled by physical ailments both big and small — the aftereffects of spinal surgery have left him in a constant state of anguish — and medicated to the point of immobility, Mallo rarely feels compelled to leave his apartment, where he lives in joyless solitude, let alone try to make a film.
But a local cinematheque wants to salute the movie for which he’s best known, “Sabor,” and the organizers would like for him to be there. Intrigued, Mallo decides to reach out to the film’s star, Alberto (Asier Etxeandia), a man with whom he had a major falling out and hasn’t spoken to in more than three decades, to appear with him.
Unsurprisingly, Alberto is at first reluctant but, slowly, the callouses of distrust begin to wear away as the two men come to the realization that the hotheadedness of youth is no way to finish one’s life.
The entire process unleashes a torrent of memories in Mallo, as the film pivots between flashbacks of a childhood mired in poverty — with Penélope Cruz as his his mother, Jacinta, and a very good Asier Flores as the young Mallo — and the present day, where Mallo comes to terms with his life choices.
The quiet, deliberate and slowly building “Pain & Glory” may not have all the exuberant cinematic flourishes for which Almodóvar is known — though the humorous sequence detailing all of Mallo’s illnesses makes for a fun break from the rest of the film — but its power rests in its restraint.
There’s a scene where Mallo reconnects with a lover from 30 years prior, Federico (Leonardo Sbaragali), who moved to Buenos Aires and has not set foot in Madrid since. The wave of woulda/ coulda/shoulda that rolls across Banderas’ face as he listens to Federico tell him about his life is a wonder of understatement.
It’s moments such as these that make “Pain & Glory” such an effective reflection on life’s choices as well as a welcome counterpoint to another Banderas film, the deservedly maligned “Life Itself” from last year, that struggled to make similar points.
The extremely personal “Pain & Glory,” a love letter to memory and maturity, makes it clear that while life may offer plenty of the first part of its title, there is enough of the latter to make it worthwhile.