Law of Desire

If it had been easier to coordinate, I would have loved to watch Almodóvar’s films in chronological order. From my cherry-picking vantage point, it seems he began to turn a corner somewhere around this film and Women on the Verge…, both films serving as gradients in his progression from his early aggressive, exaggerated work to his later sophisticated, perfectly scripted films. These two seem to embody the very best of both worlds, and are likely to emerge as my very favorites once I’ve finished his CV.

This one really is a punch in the stomach. He starts off simply with a few interesting, but evidently fairly normal characters: a film director, who we learn is gay; an actress who is ridiculed by the press, for reasons not yet known; a viewer who leaves a screening to jerk off in the bathroom. From such ordinary beginnings and realistic relationships, Almodóvar twists the thing and twists it and twists it, turning his characters into ever more monstrous and yet believable, understandable creatures, zinging his narrative through unexpected rages, confessions, and instinctive lunges for what must seem to them the very thing they need to survive. It’s a hell of a ride to behold, but not for a moment is it forced. I won’t spoil a single detail about these characters: there is too much joy in the discovery!