Blogical Conclusion

A STREETCAR NAMED EVE

JUN 27, 2009 – AS THE CURTAIN FALLS ON THE RIPELY theatrical proceedings of All About My Mother, a dedication rises: “To Bette Davis, Gena Rowlands, Romy Schneider. To all actresses who have played actresses. To all women who act. To men who act and become women. To all the people who want to be mothers. To my mother.” The sentiment is perfectly in tune with the film, which is a Technicolor paean to women everywhere – not the airbrushed sexpots of Hollywood, but the rounded and rooted earth-mothers who shoulder the often unbearable weight of being. And Almodóvar nudges the tribute further by invoking two classic works of drama that revolve around some of the strongest parts ever written for women, All About Eve and A Streetcar Named Desire, which influence the strong women here in ways both glancing and glaring.

The theatre star, Huma Rojo (Marisa Paredes), confesses, “I started smoking because of Bette Davis. To imitate her. At 18, I was smoking like a chimney.” (Davis, of course, played Margo Channing, the theatre star of All About Eve). When Manuela (Cecilia Roth) barges into Huma’s life, the latter is starring as Blanche DuBois in A Streetcar Named Desire. Not only is the title, All About My Mother, a throwback to All About Eve, it’s even narrated by a man, the way the latter is narrated by the acerbic theatre critic Addison DeWitt. But the gentlest homage may well be the happenstance that Manuela’s occupation – in a centre that coordinates organ transplants from deceased donors – depends on “the kindness of strangers,” those very anonymous benefactors who repeatedly rescue Blanche in Streetcar.

Due to an unfortunate accident, Manuela’s son Esteban (Eloy Azorín) becomes one of those benefactors – his heart finds a new home in a donor who, you think, will become the focus of the story, especially since we’ve seen how close mother and son are, and how, after Esteban’s death, Manuela tracks down the man who now walks with her son’s heart. As she overhears a conversation between him and his loved ones – “I feel I can breathe like before… Even better… With an 18- year- old’s heart!” – we wonder, “Will the grief-stricken Manuela channel the women in Streetcar (say, Blanche) and forsake reality in favour of an imagined world where she can somehow be united with her past, her son, or will she take on the aspect of someone from All About Eve, with a pancake-mask of ruthless practicality that barely hints at the womanly insecurities beneath?”

It’s finally a bit of both, as the director makes explicit in a development that’s a wondrously scripted homage to, simultaneously, both films. (And incidentally, the man with Esteban’s heart is never seen again; after receiving the kindness of a stranger, he becomes a stranger himself.) Manuela ingratiates herself into Huma’s life, as the latter’s personal assistant, and one day, Huma enquires, minutes before a performance of Streetcar is scheduled to begin, “Where’s Nina?” Nina (Candela Peña) is Huma’s partner both onstage – she plays Stella – and off. Manuela whispers, “She’s bombed. She can’t even speak.” She adds, “If it won’t give you a heart attack, I could do her part. I know it by heart from hearing it over the loudspeakers.” Huma isn’t convinced. “But can you act?” Manuela replies, “I can lie very well, and I’m used to improvising.”

Manuela goes on stage and is a smashing success – a hit with everyone except, naturally, Nina, who spits, “You planned it all, you bitch! Just like Eve Harrington.” The reference is to the conniving young actress in All About Eve, who snakes her way into Margo’s life and subsequently replaces Margo on stage. Manuela protests, “I’ve known the part of Stella for years.” She looks at Nina, then at Huma. She realises they don’t believe her.” She sighs, “I won’t bother you anymore. I’ll get my things and go.” Huma, however, insists, “Manuela, I think you owe us an explanation.” And Manuela launches into her story. “A Streetcar Named Desire has marked my life. Twenty years ago, I played Stella with an amateur group. That’s where I met my husband. He was playing Kowalski.”

“Two months ago, I saw your version in Madrid. I went with my son. It was the night of his birthday. It was pouring rain, but we waited outside because he wanted your autograph, Huma. It was crazy to wait in the rain but it was his birthday, so I couldn’t say no. You two got in a taxi, and he ran after you. A car coming along the street ran him down. He was killed. That’s the explanation. That’s the explanation, Huma.” At this point, Manuela appears to be, like Blanche, attempting to hold on to a cherished past, heedless of her sanity, but unlike Blanche, she isn’t dependent on the kindness of strangers. As everyone from the pregnant Rosa (Penélope Cruz) to Huma to the transgendered Agrado (Antonia San Juan) would attest to, it’s Manuela’s kindness that moves the world. In a manner of speaking, she’s everyone’s mother. She’s Eve.

Todo Sobre Mi Madre (1999, Spanish; aka All About My Mother). Directed by Pedro Almodóvar. Starring Cecilia Roth, Marisa Paredes, Penélope Cruz.

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