There’s a whole lot to like about this film. It’s got a superlative cast playing interesting and varied characters. There’s a splendid balance between melodrama and humor. The script is witty and sophisticated, with both irony and allusion getting heavy workouts. The plot includes several twists and one 180 degree turn. My only reservation about the film pertains to its message. It’s not that I outright reject the film’s message – there’s several themes I’ll heartily endorse. I think, however, that one of the themes suffers from a fatal degree of naivety. But let’s start with what this film got right.

All About My Mother ( Todo Sobre Mi Madre ) is the thirteenth feature for director Pedro Almodovar, who is well known for his rather offbeat view of life and for the campy melodramas that he regularly puts on film (referred to by European film3 critics as “Almodramas”). Almodovar preformed in drag on stage, in the 1970’s, as part of a punk rock band. In his reincarnation as a film director, he has had a long standing interest in various colorful kinds of characters that straddle the gender divide. His previous films seemed to highlight such characters mainly for shock value, almost like a freak show, with little evident sympathy for their humanity. Here in All About My Mother, Almodovar has hit his stride, providing more plot and fuller characters that feel pain and pleasure “just like real people.” This is still the art of comedic melodrama that he is exploring, but along with it, we now get a meaningful examination of women and their relationships with one another.

The Story: The heroine in this story is Manuela (Cecelia Roth), a single mother, nurse, and organ donor counselor living in Madrid. She had once been an aspiring actress in her younger days, but has opted for middle-class stability in order to devote herself to her beloved son, Estaban (Eloy Azarin). Manuela and Estaban have a great relationship. Estaban hopes to become a writer and is already somewhat accomplished, keeping a journal of his ideas and observations. It is his 17th birthday and he receives a Truman Capote novel as a gift from his mother. Later, they sit together to watch All About Eve on television. Estaban confides to this mother that he wants very much to know about his father, whom his mother has rigorously avoided discussing with him. All he knows is that his father died when he was too young to remember (or so he thinks). Later that night, mother and son head off to the theater together (“A Streetcar Named Desire” is playing) and he elicits from her a promise to tell him all about his father when they get home. First, however, Estaban wants to get an autograph from his favorite star of the play, a mature female actress named Huma Rojo (Marisa Paredes). They wait outside the stage door, in the rain, until she emerges, but the actress’ car pulls away while he is knocking on the window. Estaban chases after the car impulsively and as he races out onto an adjoining street, he is struck dead by an on-coming vehicle.

Manuela is distraught beyond words. Outside the emergency operating room, the doctors deliver the bad news and ask her to consider donating his organs to the organ bank. Manuela agrees (after all, she is a trained organ donor counselor herself and understands the importance). Manuela, breaking the rules of her profession, learns the name and location of the recipient of her son’s heart, and secretly observes the fortunate man as he emerges from the hospital where he has received the transplant. Still, her feelings of emptiness persist. She reads in Estaban’s diary the following entry: “Last night Mom showed me a picture. Half of it was missing. I didn’t want to tell her, but my life is missing that same half.” She decides that she will honor Estaban’s last wish in reverse. If he cannot learn about his father, at least his father can learn about him. She decides to return to Barcelona to search for Estaban’s father, whom she abandoned before Estaban’s birth. This decision provides her with a renewed sense of purpose.

She makes the trip from Madrid to Barcelona by train, just as she had done in the other direction seventeen plus years earlier. Soon, we discover the reason why Manuela had fled Barcelona and her previous life. Estaban’s father had become a transsexual (and a prostitute) a year or two before Estaban was conceived. Manuela first met Estaban’s father when they were both playing parts in “A Streetcar Named Desire.” Later, when they were living together, he had come home after a trip to Paris with breasts larger than her own! He had gotten breast implants and had become a transsexual. He had turned into a she, now named Lola (Toni Cantó). Manuela had stuck with Lola until she discovered that she was pregnant, at which time she decided to split and begin life anew in Madrid.

Now back in Barcelona, Manuela’s first destination is “The Field”, a pick-up spot where customers circle in their cars around a rotary, while prostitutes of all kinds (female, drag queens, transsexuals) strut their stuff. Manuela does not find Lola, but tells the taxi driver to stop when she sees a prostitute being roughed up by a client. Manuela cracks the assailant over the head with a rock and, then, discovers that the prostitute she has rescued is an old friend, named La Agrado (Antonia San Juan). Agrado is a transsexual prostitute, female on the top but male below the waste. Outwardly, she looks and acts a good deal more female than male. Agrado means “the agreeable one” and Agrado does indeed have an agreeable personality. Her looks are quirky but her manner is pleasant and amusing. Manuela helps get her cleaned up from her beating and learns that Agrado had lived recently with Lola, but that Lola had disappeared suddenly and had robbed their apartment of everything of any value. Agrado, however, believes that Lola was last seen at a prostitute shelter nearby. Agrado suggests that Manuela dress up in a hooker outfit, since she will be sure to get help and sympathy from the nuns who run the shelter on that basis.

At the shelter, they locate a pretty young nun named Rosa (Penelope Cruz), who had helped Lola through a detoxification program. Rosa is a sweet, innocent type, fully dedicated to helping the lowlife types in this decrepit neighborhood. She no longer knows Lola’s whereabouts. Lola has disappeared and she, too, is anxious to find her. Rosa, thinking that Manuela is a prostitute, offers to help her find alternative work as a cook for her own parents. Rosa’s mother (Rosa Maria Sarda) is a classy woman who disapproves of Rosa’s work with society’s lowlife and is not receptive to the idea of hiring a woman whom she believes to be an ex-hooker to work in her household. Rosa’s father (Fernando Fernan Gomez) has Alzheimer’s disease and no longer recognizes his daughter. Rosa and Manuela go to the apartment that Manuela has rented and Manuela soon learns that Rosa is pregnant and that the father is Lola. Manuela is furious, but does not explain why to Rosa. Rosa asks Manuela is she will accompany her to her first doctor’s appointment and Manuela agrees.

Manuela has spotted an ad for a theater performance of “A Streetcar Named Desire”, being performed by the same troupe that was playing in Madrid when Estaban was run down. She goes to see it and multiple memories well up in her mind. After the show, Manuela goes back stage to meet the actress Huma, whose autograph Estaban had been seeking when he was killed. Huma’s costar and lover, Nina (Candela Peña), plays Stella, just as Manuela had at one time. On her way to Huma’s dressing room, Manuela sees Nina racing out – for a drug fix, as it happens. Huma abruptly begs Manuela for her help tracking Nina down. “I’ve always relied on the kindness of strangers”, she says to Manuela. Though Huma and Nina are lesbian lovers, Huma is a good deal older and something of a surrogate mother for the troubled younger actress. “She’s hooked on junk and I’m hooked on her”, says Huma. With Manuela’s competent help, Nina is recovered as she is buying dope, and taken home by Huma. The next day, when Manuela returns to Huma’s dressing room to pick up her purse that was left behind, Huma offers her a job as personal assistant. Manuela accepts and develops a good relationship with Huma over the ensuing weeks. One night, Nina is so strung out on drugs that she has to be taken home and put to bed. Manuela fills in for her, reprising her old role as Stella, surprising all and winning great acclaim – except, of course, from Nina.

Manuela accompanies Rosa to the doctor and helps her through the awkward questions by telling the doctor, for example, that Rosa is her sister and that she is a “social worker”, rather than the embarrassing truth that she is a pregnant nun. Unfortunately, Rosa has a pregnancy complication and needs complete rest or she will most likely miscarry. Rosa can’t face going home and telling her mother and Manuela ultimately gives into her pitiful plight and takes her in. Manuela is back in the mothering business. Two weeks later, Rosa gets still worse news: she is HIV positive. The remainder of the plot will be left untold so that viewers can discover the various twists and turns for themselves.

Production Values: Almodovar has provided us with a strong and admirable protagonist, in Manuela, as well as some pretty fascinating unconventional female characters, including prostitutes, transvestites, actresses young and old, and a pregnant nun. He has then drawn from the very best Spanish-speaking acting talent in Spain and South America to give life to these various roles. Almodovar had previously worked with Penelope Cruz and Marisa Paredes, but both deliver arguably their finest performances for this film. Cecilia Roth is an absolute standout, delivering a truly great performance. She is in nearly every frame and, more than anyone else, carries the film. She plays the heroine so convincingly that she demands your admiration. Antonia San Juan, on the other hand, had the job of providing most of the comic relief. Her scenes in the dressing room, once with Nina and another time with the male lead of the acting troupe, were magnificent in both irony and humor. Fernando Fernan Gomez has a fairly minor role in this film, as Rosa’s father, but is one of the greatest Spanish actors of all time, having starred in The Grandfather (see my review at The Grandfather) and Butterfly (see my review at Butterfly).

The script for All About My Mother is outstanding. The humor works very well, as, for example in this short exchange between Huma and Agrado, who have just met.

Huma: “Can you drive?”
Agrado: “I used to be a truck driver.”
Huma: “Really?”
Agrado: “In Paris, before I got my tits. Then I gave up the truck and became a whore.”
Huma: “How Interesting.”
Agrado: “Very.”

According to Almodovar, he works from a fairly structured script but then engages in a kind of give and take with the performers and modifies the script daily when extemporaneous ideas arise. The script is literally packed with allusions and ironies. There are repeated allusions, in particular, to “A Streetcar Named Desire” (which, in many ways, demarcates Manuela’s life) and “All About Eve” (which, among other things, provided the form for the title of the film).

The richness with which Almodovar explores irony is almost unparalleled among filmmakers. Here’s a dozen interesting ones that I came up with off the top of my head: (1) The title of the film implies a story being told by Estaban, but Estaban has died a few minutes into the story, making it, in effect, a posthumous work by the aspiring young writer. (2) Manuela is a organ donor counselor but then must assume the role of authorizing donation of Estaban’s organs after his death. (3) Manuela is seen standing in front of a giant billboard of the face of Huma, who will later become her good friend, as she and Estaban go to the theater. (4) Manuela’s ex-husband is also an ex-man. (5) Estaban wanted desperately to know about his father; instead, his father learns about him. (6) Rosa, a demure and pious nun, not only becomes pregnant, but pregnant by a transsexual. (7) Rosa’s mother deems Manuela unworthy of being her cook, believing her to be a prostitute; later Manuela assumes what should be the mother’s role in caring for Rosa, since her real mother is incapable of providing the needed maternal support. (8) Rosa, who tends to the needy and who offers to help Manuela (believing her to be a hooker) becomes a needy person tended to by Manuela; (9) Lola fathered Estaban (who died) with Manuela; later, when Rosa dies, Manuela becomes mother to her baby, also Estaban, also fathered by Lola. (10) While Manuela is traveling to Barcelona to seek Lola, Lola is traveling to Argentina to revisit his memories of Manuela in places where he and Manuela frequented before coming to Spain. (11) Manuela’s Estaban is resurrected, in a sense, as Rosa’s Estaban, but the infant Estaban’s conception was anything but “immaculate.” (12) Life roles, in this film, are, in many ways, just as make-believe and dependent on make-up and make-overs (surgery and implants) as are stage roles. Agrado is able to fill in, when it is needed, and entertains the audience simply by “performing” her authentic life story.

Another strong element of Almodovar films is his attention to imagery and colors. A couple of cinematographic elements stood out in my mind in this film. One was when Esteban had just been hit by the car. We see Manuela racing down the street in the rain toward him and the picture is turned ninety degrees. What we are watching is apparently Esteban’s dying view of his mother from the ground. Another brilliant piece of camera work occurs during Manuela’s trip back to Barcelona. The rhythm of the train wheels sounds like the beating of a heart – Esteban’s heart that she had followed as far as the chest of its transplant recipient. Then, suddenly, the train passes through a tunnel that has the feel of a birth canal and Manuela emerges in Barcelona, as if reborn. Almodovar is also a master at managing colors. In this film, we see numerous examples of bright colors in clothing and cloths, reminding us that this film is about the bright side of life, despite its sometimes squalid subject matter.

Themes: I noted four main themes in this film (there may be others that I missed) and three seem to me to be largely uncontroversial. One obvious theme is Manuela’s recovery from her tragic loss. She is able to recapture meaning in her life by redirecting her maternal instincts to the many needy people she encounters in Barcelona – Rosa, Agrado, Huma, Nina, and, briefly, Lola. She personifies motherhood from the beginning with her son, through the middle with Rosa and the other women that she helps, and, finally, in the end, with the infant Esteban.

Another theme is the basic decency and humanity of the characters in this film, most of who are marginalized types in society (other than Manuela), often dismissed as deviant or subhuman. In Almodovar’s world living authentically and honestly is the height of human dignity; conformity counts for nothing.

A third theme is female solidarity. These glorious women, in All About My Mother, help one another find comfort, companionship, and love, as well as more tangible necessities, like employment or a place to stay. One of my favorite scenes in the film involves the four most appealing female characters, Manuela, Agrado, Rosa, and Huma, bonding together in Manuela’s apartment, laughing over the titillating sound of various words for the male organ.

The fourth theme is the one that I feel is rightly controversial and with which I have some difficulty. I buy it in part, but Almodovar takes it a further than I’m prepared to travel and a whole lot further than some other folks will go. Almodovar seems to me to be preaching what I call the “anything goes” mentality – that we should resist making moral judgments about choices that people make. All About My Mother seems to be arguing that we serve each other best by simply supporting and accepting each other as we are, regardless of how controversial or risky lifestyle choices might be. I think that this part of Almodovar’s message is both the reason that the film was banned by the Catholic league and the basis on which Roger Ebert states that the film paradoxically expresses family values. Ebert is arguing that caring and supporting are the essential family values while the Catholic league would argue that family values must be based on standards of morality. My position differs from each of those views. I strongly support tolerance in all matters of choice and personal preferences in so far as such choices cause no substantial harm. I have no problem with Agrado choosing to be transsexual, for example. My problem is that Almodovar presents a wide range of so-called “deviant” behaviors that run the gamut from harmless ones to ones that are devastatingly harmful (and, hence, immoral) – without drawing any distinction between them. The most egregious example of a “choice” represented in this film that should not be met with tolerance is Lola’s continuing unprotected sexual activity while being HIV positive, exposing who knows how many others besides Rosa and her baby to a life of misery and an agonizing death. Almodovar’s only hint of condemnation of this grossly libertine behavior is when Lola acknowledges to Manuela, near the end, “I was always excessive.” It’s not enough. Lola is literally a killer on the loose.

Then, there are some somewhat lesser examples of “choices” that fall outside the realm of harmless choices. Sweet, dear Rosa, for example, has violated her vows and the sanctity of the profession that she herself chose simply by having sex, much less with a transsexual drug abuser in rehab. She put herself at risk of pregnancy and endangered the life of her potential child, not to mention the risk that her child might have to grow up as an orphan. Then there’s the risk that comes with choosing a life of prostitution, as Agrado does – beatings, murders, exploitation, and transmission of venereal diseases. There are also some additional deficiencies in the choices of some of these characters that cannot be admired: Nina’s drug addiction and Huma’s dysfunctional attachment to Nina. It’s one thing to be supportive of choices that are merely unconventional or shocking, but another thing entirely when the choices in question cause harm to the individual or others. In Almodovar’s world, those who try to maintain standards and who judge others, such as Rosa’s mother, are implicitly condemned. It’s a dangerous kind of world that he is advocating – carried to the level of purity he depicts. Yes, we should all be tolerant of differences where no significant harm results, but not when lives and well-being are jeopardized. In my experience both as a parent and a teacher, I’ve found that offering support is critically important, but so to is setting standards and expectations. Almodovar seems to have entirely abandoned standards in preference for unqualified support for any and all choices.

Since all of the principal characters in this film are women (or half-women in some cases), each viewers perception of the competing merits of unconditional support versus promoting basic standards of moral behavior (however you define it) will also determine how each viewer feels about Almodovar’s portrayal of women. It is interesting, for example, that one reviewer states that All About My Mother is an “out and out tribute to womanhood” and another calls it a “moving tribute to women” but a third concludes that the film has a “strong undercurrent of resentment toward women.” The women in All About My Mother, taken collectively, are admirable in how they support one another, but, by the end, Rosa has died and both Nina and Agrado could just as well have perished from their risky choices. It’s a tribute in one sense, but a pretty bleak character portrayal in another (excepting, of course, Manuela, who is admirable in all respects).

Bottom-Line: As a piece of entertainment, All About My Mother is both a splendid emotional roller-coaster ride and a satisfying experience in the end. It is a well-crafted campy melodrama with fascinating characters, superior performances, excellent cinematography, a good balance between drama and humor, and some strong script elements. Three of its themes strike me as laudable while a fourth ought to be controversial because it is fatally simplistic.


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You might want to check out these other excellent films from Spain:

L’Age D’Or
Belle Epoque
Butterfly
Carmen
Cria!
El
The Grandfather
Labyrinth of Passion
Sex and Lucía
Spirit of the Beehive
Talk to Her
Thesis
Tie Me Up! Time Me Down!
Tierra
Tristana
Vacas
Viridiana
Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown

Recommended:
Yes

Video Occasion: Fit for Friday Evening
Suitability For Children: Not suitable for Children of any age