The Return of Almodóvar: 'Volver'

Take a good look. Not simply for more obvious reasons such as deeply, dazzling, dark eyes, but for being witness to one of the best actresses of our times. As of today. For me at least. I had the pleasure of seeing 'Volver' (To Return) today with my dearest Pakistani future-radiologist friend and fellow cinephile. Within River Oaks Theater's beautiful main hall, and with apparently addictive Raisinettes in hand, we witnessed the coming of age of Penelope Cruz in no uncertain terms.

'Volver', set in Spain's beautifully bleak and windy La Mancha region, is the latest work of Pedro Almodóvar. This is the writer/producer, who defies any casual adjectives to describe him, is the man behind such controversial films as the audaciously brilliant 'Hable con Ellas' (Talk to Her), and boldly humanistic 'La Mala Educación' (Bad Education). For those familiar with his other works, and for the historically Puritan (read American) Volver is significantly less controversial in that there are no doe-eyed transsexuals. Promise. However, Almodóvar does hypnotize your sense of reality. Sharj and I decided we could most accurately describe the film as somewhere between warmly absurd, and illogically reasonable. Similar to Penélope Cruz herself.

When speaking of Penélope, we obviously need to shrug history. I think its more than safe to say that Penélope Cruz has not always lived up to her apparent potential as an actress. Even the casual film observer can rattle off the unfortunate 'Vanilla Sky', physically startling 'Blow', and...shiver...'Gothika'. Past pejoratives such as cinematic waif, or even simply 'decent' seem vulnerable to argument. Moreover, in 121 minutes, these past film transgressions are engulfed by her luminous performance as Raimunda at hand. Think post-Lewinsky Clinton amidst an unprecedented American economic growth. Ms. Cruz imbues a terribly beautiful and vulnerable strength of emotion. Perfectly genuine. Equally tangible. Penélope Cruz done growed up. If this is what happens after you break up with the enigmatic and anti-psychiatry Tom Cruise (vis-à-vis Nicole Kidman), Katie should be Oscar-worthy in no time.

Second, it gives a shot out to the Texas Medical Center more than once. When Blanca Portillo's character Agustina is asked why she shamed her family by going on a trashy mid-afternoon Spanish talk show, she responds,

"Prometieron llevarme a Houston. Curan todo en Houston ("They promised to take me to Houston. They cure everything in Houston.")."

That's right. Everything. This is possibly the first time I've heard a direct endorsement of the Texas Medical Center. I'll take it.

In short, its a wonderful, full, and playfully surreal film; its flawless and resonant Almodóvar. Claro que sí. It certainly shakes up my (soon to be posted) list of this year's best films and gives my impression of Little Miss Sunshine a run for its money, but more on that later. In the meantime, witness pure cinematic beauty.