Pedro Almodovar wrote and directed Parallel Mothers, a film I liked less than 2019’s Pain and Glory, but again, much like Drive My Car, I admit to cultural ignorance. First, I’m pro-cremation, so any story line about angst about family bodies being buried next to each other, does not tug my heart strings, disculpe.
I also am super honest, so if I discovered a mistake, I’d be admitting it yesterday, not months later which further distanced me from any emotional pull.
The story was told a bit clumsily as well, first we have a soap opera drama (see my aforementioned confessions) and then we have a PBS like documentary about excavating graves. Granted the first three quarters held more appeal, I did like the Hitchcockian score and suspense.
Penelope Cruz is always a delight, I felt sexy just watching her, exuding a confidence on my walk home. For that alone the film was worth the price of admission. I did not care for her love interest, Israel Elejadre, as he held no appeal for me, nor did I feel any chemistry between he and Penelope. Milena Smit did well with her role, but likewise, I wasn’t smit-ten with her (pun intended).
Me thinks Pedro and Penelope have a niche, but it’s not one that I find amazing.
Parallel Mothers, Still on My Mission
