Blogical Conclusion

THE TIES THAT BIND

JAN 3, 2009 – A FEW MINUTES INTO PEDRO ALMODÓVAR’S Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down!, Ricky (Antonio Banderas) is seen tightening the deadbolt in a door that opens out to a care facility for the mentally ill. A patient stares at him dolefully – whether out of amusement or apathy, it’s hard to say – and as if to entertain his spectator, give this man his time’s worth, Ricky turns the screwdriver in his hand towards his forehead and pretends to tighten the screw that’s loose in there. A little later, we realise Ricky wasn’t being entirely facetious. He’s obsessed with Marina (Victoria Abril) – a former porn star, and a former one-night stand – and in order to secure her love, he does what occurs naturally to him. He barges into her home.

She resists. She fights back. “Don’t scream,” he instructs. She screams. He knocks his forehead against hers and they fall to the floor in a comical heap. She scrambles up, and he punches her on the face. As she falls, he shakes his head at what his attempt at courtship has come to. “I warned her,” he mutters to himself. “I told her not to.” Later, when she comes around, he realises he has broken her tooth. She goes to the bathroom and swallows a painkiller. He apologises. She fills a glass with water and hurls it in his direction. It shatters against his skull. She tries to run out of the bathroom, but he’s too quick for her. He catches her and twirls her around and presses her against his body.

And then, ever so slowly, he releases her. She asks if he wants to – now how to put this in a family publication? – have his way with her. He shakes his head. She asks what he wants. “I’ll tell you,” he says. “But let’s lie down on the bed.” As she leads the way, he cautions her with what appears to be genuine care and concern. “Watch out for the glass.” She sits down in a corner. He kneels beside the bed and begins to explain, “I tried to speak to you on the set. You didn’t listen. I had to kidnap you, so you’d know me. I’m sure you’ll get to love me as I love you.” She turns to him in disgust and disbelief, and then, not trusting herself to speak, turns her face away.

“I’m 23 years old,” he continues. “I’ve got 50,000 pesetas. I have no one in the whole world. I’ll try to be a good husband, and a good father to your kids.” He pauses as she gets up. He waits for her answer. She runs to the door instead, and fidgets with the deadbolt in utter futility. He holds out a bunch of keys, which he isn’t about to hand over. Closing the blinds, he attempts to jog her memory about the night they spent together. “I had run away from the hospital. We met at Lulu’s, came to your place, and…” She begins to rummage through her things. “I said I’d come back and protect you,” he exclaims with the slightest hint of frustration, finally beginning to realise she remembers nothing.

That sets off something in her. She hurls what’s in her hand towards him and yells, “Many have told me that.” He protests. “But I’m here to prove it. Quit throwing things around.” That calms her somewhat, but the toothache continues to agitate her. The compress against her cheek doesn’t help. The painkillers she took aren’t much use either. She persuades him to take her to a doctor, who prescribes a stronger narcotic. They proceed to the drugstore, but the narcotic isn’t in stock. The proprietor suggests that they try the black market. He takes her back home, tapes her mouth, binds her hands and legs, and sets out to get the drug.

He obtains the drug, but by stupidly roughing up the dealer. A little later, when more quantities of the drug are needed, he returns to the black market, and this time, the dealer gets her revenge by ganging up with a couple of sadistic thugs and beating him senseless. He staggers home. She’s still there, bound to the bed. Her eyes widen in shock as she takes in his bruised, bloody appearance. He unties her, and in a sweet reversal of the earlier scene – where she was the one wounded, and he was the one filled with care and concern – he heads to the bathroom. He struggles to take his shirt off. She rushes to his side and helps him. Where she was earlier contemptuous of his attempts to get close to her, she’s now suspiciously sympathetic.

“Those animals,” she exclaims, dabbing with antiseptic a particularly nasty gash by the side of his eye. “This reminds me of my parents,” he says, glimpsing their reflection in the mirror. “My mom used to shave my dad on the porch back home.” Tears roll down her eyes as she kisses his neck, then the wound on his shoulder. He is as surprised by this development as we are. We wonder, at first, if it’s a manifestation of the Stockholm syndrome, but then we remember what she said when she flung things at him, that many men had spun sugary lies about coming back to protect her. Maybe the reason for her change of heart is simply that this one did.

Copyright ©2009 The New Indian Express. This article may not be reproduced in its entirety without permission. A link to this URL, instead, would be appreciated.