The latest offering from Spanish auteur Pedro Almodovar, Volver is a witchy, spacey piece dominated by women and the furtive ways in which they interact. Femaleness has always been the central refrain of Almodovar’s work; he seems to fetishise what he perceives as the secret, almost paganistic rituals of female bonding, forever beyond the reaches of the male gaze and thus his own comprehension. His excellent All About My Mother was preoccupied with women as exoticised flowers- actresses, transsexuals, lesbians, nuns. Here the women are earthly, everyday- barmaids, housewives, widows- but just as mysterious, and thus the deification Almodovar invests in the concept of womanhood is more dusty, more spooky, and more dangerous.

The film centres on young mother Raimunda (Penelope Cruz) and her relationships with a senile aunt, flaky sister and layabout husband, whose lecherous eye for the couple’s sour-faced teenage daughter Paula (Yohana Cobo) has fatal consequences, establishing the recurring themes of bonds based in secret and tawdry tragedies behind twitched curtains. It strikes me that these women are not so much characters as ciphers, each representing a separate shard of what Almodovar sees as the female condition, be it oppressed, industrious, motherly or mad. The strange, artificial nature of their conversations only seems to make sense on this more symbolic level; it often seems that these are less individuals communicating than fraternising organs of a supra-being whole. This is all sounds terribly pretentious but results in a satisfying, ecumenical vision.

The title roughly translates as “to return”, and the cyclical nature of abuse, death and motherhood are all well realised by Almodovar’s strong thematic repetitions and sharp grasp of human nature. The photography is elegiac and unshowy, the imagery only occasionally memorable or sharp, most notably in the opening pan over of a village of widows prodding at graves like the cheeks of fat grandchildren.

The film is mesmeric, but far from perfect. Set in a superstitious village where belligerent winds have chased out the highest insanity rate in Spain and tradition dictates tending to a pre-emptive grave, the concepts are strong but never executed to the fullest conclusion. Muddled storytelling also means large chunks are lavished on an inconsequential restaurant subplot, the only ostensible purpose of which is as thin pretext for dolling up Penelope Cruz’s rack.

The limits of Cruz -in a supporting role here to said frame chewing monster cleavage- are illuminated all too fully. The role of Raimunda is a demanding one, encompassing fortitude, impulsiveness and twinges of madness, the latter of which is implicated throughout the film as a whole. Whilst passably solid, her acting has yet to eclipse her silhouette. Thankfully, the supporting cast are excellent; Lola Duenas as the saucer eyed Sole and Bianca Portillo as beatific neighbour Agustina being particularly memorable.

Volver is, like all Almodovar’s work, fiendishly difficult to pin down and accommodatingly open in its ideas and themes. The irreverent humour that so pervades his work helps to ground these big ideas and nimbly avert artsy detachment. His love affair is, after all, with women –yes- but equally people. Volver is above all things a wonderfully humanist picture, with great affection for the everyday oddballs that populate it and the Spain they represent.

Recommended:
Yes