Part of the Picture: Two of a Kind
TWO OF A KIND
JUNE 28, 2008 - FOR AN EXPERIENCE SO ABSTRACT in tone and texture, for a film that floats so freely above the concrete technicalities of plot machinery, Pedro Almodóvar’s Talk to Her is a remarkably manipulated construction. As with the Ark of Noah – an appropriate enough allusion if you consider that Almodóvar is nothing if not a savior of humankind of every stripe against the Great Flood of the world’s narrow-minded judgment – everything comes in twos: two women in a coma, whose immobility is rendered all the more tragic if you remember that their careers depended on their ability to move (Alicia is a dancer, Lydia is a matador); two men in a metaphorical coma, paralysed in relationship limbos (Marco is a travel writer struggling to get over a past lover, Benigno is a nurse content with a disturbing arrangement that has no tangible future); and the two parallel, yet intertwining narratives about these men and these women.
Till a point, the story about Benigno (Javier Cámara) tending to the comatose Alicia (Leonor Watling) in a private hospital seems unrelated to the track about Marco (Darío Grandinetti) visiting the comatose Lydia (Rosario Flores) in the same hospital. At the very beginning, however, Almodóvar hints that Benigno and Marco are on a collision course. They are seated in a theatre – side by side, each unaware of the other except as “the man in the neighbouring chair” – watching a performance of Café Muller by Pina Bausch, which is one of those surreal, avant-garde pieces where two women (once again, a pair) sleepwalk on stage as a man runs around removing obstacles from their path. It appears to be a literal evocation of what’s to come, that Marco and Benigno are going spend a lot of their time ensuring that Lydia and Alicia do not run into more handicaps than those they’re already facing.
Sometime into the performance, Marco is moved enough that tears begin to course down his cheeks, and something makes Benigno look at his neighbour. They don’t exchange words or sympathies or notes on what they’ve just seen, but much later, when they begin to spend a lot of time at the same hospital, Benigno tells Marco that he remembers him from that evening at the theatre. “I know you,” Benigno declares in his rapid-patter Spanish, jabbing the air in front of Marco’s face. “From my books?” Marco wonders. Squinting his eyes in an all-too-apparent effort at remembering, Benigno reveals, “It was in Café Muller… We happened to be sitting together. And at some stage, you started crying.”
Perhaps because of this experience they once shared, perhaps because of the situation they currently share, or perhaps because there really isn’t much to do in hospitals as you’re waiting around loved ones in a coma, the men eventually strike up a friendship. At first, though, possibly embarrassed by Benigno’s recollection, Marco begins to leave. “That fast?” asks Benigno. “We barely talked.” But there will be other evenings for talking, and on one such occasion, Benigno shares with Marco the story of how he fell in love with Alicia (before her accident) and how he had been at a loss about communicating his feelings to her and how this accident had provided a gruesome solution to this problem. “And this was four years ago… And here we are now,” Benigno purrs, with the contentment of living a full life with the one he loves, even if she is unaware of his existence. “Right Alicia?” he asks his patient, as he massages her face to prevent muscular atrophy. Her silence is his answer.
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WOW!! Amazing movie n obviously great writing.. This movie was so intriguin when I watched it for the first time.. I watched it once again and began to appreciate the movie..Anyways..while reading i thought u wud write about that scene which still intrigues me..You know which one Im referring to..Dont u:):)..??? Ur observations over that scene should be interesting to read!!
Ram Kumar: Thanks man. About the scene - if you’re talking about the silent movie, I think it’s very literally the fact that he’s “entered” her, just as Benigno has raped (i.e. “entered”) Alicia.
This is a beautiful thing that Almodovar does, ensuring that we don’t get repelled by a rapist - but instead begin to sympathise with his romantic notions of what the act entails. (Because in his own demented way, they’re practically husband and wife.)
What did you make of it?
Thanks for this piece. I am gonna watch this movie again tonight.Jus’ curious..any other Almodóvar movie part in Q here?
I KNEW you were writing about Talk to Her - dont freak out … Im not the Voldemort to your Harry Potter -the picture on your Cinema Paradiso article has changed to the one you have up here.
Marco is a nice “muranpaattu moottai” - to borrow from Vairamuthu. He seems like the guy who thrives in long term relationships and yet that doesn’t tie into his choice of career. A travel writer is in essence a person who has no permanency. In essence he is the kind of guy who is a visitor in his own home (The Accidental Tourist anyone?). And yet he tends to a woman who broke his fault-line ridden heart. Why? I have no answer and that is what makes the movie a little more real. Most times in life you have no explanations - just actions. And by not providing motive, Almodovar provides the audience, freedom from the shackles of obvious contrivance.
And as you mention in your comment above Almodovar’s genius (as if it wasnt already obvious) lies in generating an audience understanding, if not sympathy, for Benigno. I watched this movie back to back, trying to discern in my own mind when Benigno had crossed the line. There was only one answer - the line was crossed when he fell in love with her through that window. He saw a pretty girl and he pedestalized immediately. But isn’t that a crime of which many an average man is guilty? If the coma hadnt happened to Alicia, she might have had the chance to disabuse him of his fantasy (the minor meeting on the streets/apartment notwithstanding). In some senses the movie is an indictment of the general course that all relationships take. We always see before we talk, even though it is only when we talk that we really “see” who the person is. TALK TO HER.
Thanks for the brilliant write-up.That’s simply a reason enough for a revisit soon.When I first saw it,I was totally bowled over the narrative.Never had witnessed such a complex structure where the emotions preceded everything else, something which only Almodovar is capable of.And the placement of the silent movie was remarkable; perhaps the only ‘movie inside a movie’ that seamlessly took the story forward!
brangan: Word about this quixotic La Manchan did wind its way to me last week (I share office space with an at-once-hilarious, at-once-heights-of-moodiness Hispanic American named Jack, who LOVES Almodovar, as I only just found out — having known the guy for four full months now. “You should watch his movies, you’ll love ‘em…here, let me recommend…start with Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown…yes, that should be a good start for someone like you.”…giggles…followed by my pouncing on him to punch his pot-belly…”Ouuucchh…relax, it’s just a screwball comedy, that’s why I thought it would suit your tastes.” There. Much better.) but not with the gale force that’s this piece…I guess its Almodovar desire that I get my intro to him thru Talk to Her.
Not entirely satisfied with this sumptuously satisfying treat that’s your write-up, I delved into Google for more, and fished out this really touching review-in-its-entirety by one of the best film critics from these parts, Slate’s David Edelstein. He calls Talk to Her “..[Almodovar's] gentlest —- and, for that reason, his most disconcerting —- romance.”
Buried at the bottom of the Slate piece though is the real nugget — this 2002 exchange between Almodovar and Guardian/NFT. I loved hearing about the start contrast between Benigno and Marco, from the horse’s mouth. “I first present Benigno. We see that he is a nurse, a special nurse who talks to this lady in bed. We see that he has a warm relationship with this female body. We then see Marco on what I call the Star Trek, but it is actually called a Body Trek. Sorry, it’s an awful joke.”
p.s: I was confused about your response to Ram Kumar where you make it seem like Benigno is the more “physical” one…wouldn’t that be Marco, as Almodovar points out in the quote above? Again, I haven’t seen the movie, so..
Deepauk: I LOVED your comment on many levels…simply beautiful. Enough said.
Abubaker: Not right away, but thought I’d do Bad Education at some point.
Deepauk M: I’m not sure I agree that a travel writer can’t have long-terms. I mean, unless you’re talking about a nomad, as opposed to someone who flies out on assignments and always returns to the same place.
But I agree with the point about “Most times in life you have no explanations - just actions.” Rather, I’d say, the reasons aren’t as important as the actions - in these films too.
Civic/Sagarika: Thanks.