"Broken Embraces," Almodovar-ian Thoughts

Walking out of “Broken Embraces” (Los Abrazos Rotos) last week, I was
rambling, per usual, about the movie’s merits and demerits compared to director Pedro Almodovar's
the other films. As we strolled down
Houston St. from Sunshine Cinema, I asked my old friend what he’d
thought of the movie, relinquishing my death-grip on the conversation.
He sort of shrugged his shoulders, cocked his head, and said: “Eh, his
films all run together to me.”

While my heart palpitated a bit, thinking of the intricacies of each
and every one of Almodovar's films, how he's a filmmaker's Film Man –
a film student who's never grown up – I took a deep breath and said,
“Yeah, I can see that.” Sure, I could tell you the ins and outs of
“Talk to Her,” “All About My Mother,” and, lately, “Volver” – but
there's an elemental sameness to all Almodovar films that make them
unwittingly Almodovar without need for credit recognition. Every
character has a twisted, twisted back-story – and they all tie
themselves seamlessly together in a beautifully-shot sequence of
events, somewhere down the line.

That said, there've been some Almodovar stand-out scenes that
couldn't erase themselves from my memory, were they to be Magic
Ink-erasable. I'll never forget the images and themes from “The Bad
Education” (La Mala Educacion), with one of my old loves, Gael Garcia
Bernal – he plays a fledgling actor-cum-transvestite-cum-deceptionist.
Those images and sequences are so engrained in my warbled movie memory
that I'll never lose them – and I'll never forget making many a soul
watch that film.

So, back to “Embraces.” Penelope Cruz plays the gorgeous protagonist lady;
she's the star in Almodovar's immediate film that we're watching, as well as his film
within-the-film – he shoots a comedy within an atypical drama. We
learn early on that her father's sick, she's an assistant at a huge
corporation—which is run by an ineptly ruthless CEO-type (aren't they
all?)—and she's got to make the all-too-rough (not) decision whether
to sell her beautiful self to the sexually voracious old man, or let
her Pops die in the hands of an unsympathetic hospital.
Enter the dreamy man protagonist (who's been involved in the story as
a narrative from minute 1), an oft-used Almodovar standby, Lluis Homar
(of “La Mala Educacion”) – a dreamy director who's fallen for Cruz's
beguiling looks and clutchable soul.
Well, no point in going on with the narrative arc.

It's a great story, fantastic role-playing on both sides (Cruz and
Homar's), yet only a good movie. It's a great effort, and it's so, SO Almodovar; it's just not told
in the same deft, clever way that he usually spins his tales,
unraveling them layer by layer till we're left with just the most
brute forms of humans—which he's so good at. This feels like he
started in the middle of opening a can of worms, got nervous and made
sure he closed the can back up.

It's good, but not great.

Still worth a see.

Broken Embraces trailer:

"Rudo y Cursi," Gael and Diego ...Must. Move. Away. From. Idols.

It's really just rude of me to not write about "Rudo y Cursi" -- it stars two of my favorite men, and had I not gotten sidetracked by trying to write my own little fictions, I'd have written this up days ago.



"Rudo y Cursi" stars Gael Garcia Bernal and Diego Luna -- think "Y Tu Mama Tambien" -- as brothers. They live and work on a banana farm in Mexico (if I didn't already have them as idols after my heart, their situation would be so similar to my family's that I'd not be able to resist ... anyway)

We have a voiceover narrator who comes on scene very early on. He has a gravelly voice, and his car just broke down, just down the way. The brothers help him push the heap of a mess a couple miles, down some dirt roads, and all's well.

We quickly come to know that he's a talent agent. Specifically, sports. Soccer, to be exact. The brothers are good at soccer.

They're told to fight for the position - Score and you get the position; block and you look good. What's a man to do?

There is so much ego, so much made-up rivalry, such despair in their downfalls. The narrator gets a bit annoying, but, overall, the movie's fantastic. It views like a short story that is well worth it. Highly recommend.

And, Gael and Diego?? I'd give two arms to be sitting between them both; of course, I'd be looking left and right the whole time, pinching myself to make sure I wasn't dead or dreaming -- but, holy moly, they are up there with PN.

So Many Enchiladas, Great Mexicans, a Famous Wood Chipper

How many enchiladas can this half-bred Mexican make in a matter of hours, you ask? 36.

Did we include homemade guacamole, salsa, and rice and beans with that? But of course.

My level of human domestication has never been higher.

As planned, Mexican Monday Night went down at the Grice homestead last night. I even switched up my work schedule so I could come in at the crack of dawn, and leave in the afternoon; I needed to entertain my anxiety of cooking for stomachs other than my own.

After last week's Roommate Night, I'd told the boys I could make some mean Mexican food; as I wandered aimlessly around the grocery store yesterday, I reconsidered my bold cooking claim.

But, oh, what a nice time was had.

With the help of two fine Lady Friends, we made enough food to take us into next week (Recession!), we managed to set off the fire alarm -- but fix it in a style that would make Lucille Ball proud -- and we ended the night on the couch, Youtubing Dire Straits and Peter Gabriel, thanks to my fond childhood memories of the music videos for "Money for Nothing" and "Sledgehammer." We threw in some Robert Palmer, for good measure.

Our collective food coma was alive and well.

I had such a good time and newfound appreciation for My Roots that I spent a good part of my morning revisiting some Mexican movie greats.

Remember "Amores Perros"? It stars the beautiful Gael Garcia Bernal and it interweaves three great twisted, distinct storylines into wonderful movie darkness. There's dogfighting, a supermodel who loses her leg, a hitman. Anyone who knows me would know I'd love this movie on that sentence alone.



And, while "La Mala Educacion" (which I wrote about before) is by Pedro Almodóvar, a Spaniard, not a Mexicano, (It's all the same? No, they like tapas, we like grease.), it also stars the beautiful Bernal. This is a particularly bizarre scene, with him studying a transvestite.



Finally, I stumbled upon one other (unrelated) movie scene today, as I was wandering around in my brain tunnels.

I have a Friend arriving in New York on Friday; we were talking about his trip, and he mentioned how glad he was to be getting out of the arctic weather he's been braving. I realized that every time we talk about how unbearably cold it is there, my mind's mental picture calls up "Fargo." While geographically incorrect, he said it was representative of his surroundings.

I said I hoped he had a solid wood chipper, which refers to this lovely little scene.

Hurray for holiday company.

Almodovar, Transvestites, Awesome Movie: La Mala Educacion (The Bad Education)

I recently moved to Chelsea. We have a sweet little apartment; it’s cute and quaint and cozy, blah, blah. The roommates are doing a very nice job with decoration, and if I were more social and less aesthetically-challenged, I’d try to lend a hand beyond signing a check to pay my share. Alas.

I really love the neighborhood, though. I’d become very well-versed on the ‘hood about 10 blocks south, and now my knowledge has expanded northward. It’s nice.

I get off the train each evening, and as I hobble up the subway stairs, I’m greeted by some beautiful faces. Those of some transvestites that congregate near the entrance of my subway station.

Every time I’m met with their painted mugs, I smile, exchange a couple pleasantries and I’m on my way, skipping along the street towards my home. And every time, I can’t help but think of one of my embarrassingly favorite movies. (“Embarrassing” because it’s twisted and weird; I made Mama G watch it a while back, and she just shot back with a sigh and “Oh, Morgan, you’re so warped.”)

I wrote about it before in passing, how it was one of the movies I saw at my old $7 cinema and how it was one that altered my view on films fundamentally. There have been plenty of those, but I’ll never shake this one as a milestone in Morgan’s movie history.

It’s “La Mala Educacion,” or, “The Bad Education” for the American Exceptionalists among us. It stars Gael Garcia Bernal as a wanna-be actor who’ll do anything to sell himself for a role. Anything, it seems. Abusive Catholic priests, cocaine habits and homosexual scenes abound. It’s so, so good.

It’s by Pedro Almodovar, so I suppose it really doesn’t need my accolades.
I just plucked it from my DVD rack, and Peter Travers has: “A Rapturous Masterwork! ****” Yes, sir, you are a shill; but he’s pegged it right this time.