Hable con Ella (Talk to Her)

Posted on Paul Katz's Place for Entertainment
17 January 2003

IN SUM: The movie opens with a curtain of roses, perhaps to signify the floridity and thorniness of the story, and ends with a wall of leaves and waterfalls, perhaps to symbolize a fresh, new beginning.

I finally saw Pedro Almodóvar's Hable con Ella, which tells the intense story of friendship and communication. Watching it was like playing the matadora role of Lydia. You are clothed in layers of garments, each one wrapping around you tight with patterns, colors, and textures until they blend into one full splendor of textile work. And then you face the thorny issues of the bull, swing to the dance, and meet an unexpected ending.

The sense of the theater is pervasive, and it absorbs you. Director Almodóvar consciously makes you part of the audience, not of the cinema, but of the live stage and staged performances in the film. And there are many here, from the ballet rehearsals to the bullfighter's dance. Pina Bausch provides two performances: one is frenetic like the lives of Lydia and Marco, the other fresh like the lives of the younger Alicia and Benigno. The movie opens with a curtain of roses, perhaps to signify the floridity and thorniness of the story, and ends with a wall of leaves and waterfalls, perhaps to symbolize a fresh, new beginning.

The most engaging part of Hable con Ella is the music. Mr Almodóvar dutifully and thankfully sprinkles Spanish rhythms throughout the movie. The standout is Caetano Veloso performing “Cucurrucucú Paloma” in a sparse, almost MTV-ish arrangement to a small, outdoor café audience. Like Barbra Streisand's exalting “A Piece of Sky” in Yentl, Al Pacino's mesmerizing tango in Scent of a Woman and Rebekah del Rio's impassioned “Llorando (Cryin')” in Mulholland Drive, Mr Veloso's mellowed yet strong, viola-backed tenor is one of those musical moments on contemporary screen that remain with you long after you leave the movie house.