TALK TO HER (Pedro Almodóvar, 2002)

Reviewed: January 24th, 2003

I'm gonna spoil the hell outta this thing. If you haven't seen Talk to Her yet, get lost.

I now begin compiling this review from the myriad of saved IM conversations, emails exchanges and message board arguments I've had about this film. Luckily I didn't bother tape-recording and transcribing the hour long verbal debates I've participated in w/r/t Almodóvar's newest, since then I'd possess a truly crippling amount of material to wade through. I'll try and be compact. Initially my distaste for Talk to Her stemmed from being bored into paralysis, from not feeling much of anything for any of the major characters and from believing the movie didn't have any profundities to offer. Instead I saw a high-concept idea (two friends are in love with two comatose women) glossing over its perversity with nice vistas and fine cinematography and surreal, time-killing, silent setpieces. Upon further reflection I realized Talk to Her's incredibly misogynist because it pushes the notion -- rather forcefully, if you think about it -- that Women Need Men To Survive. The woman who gets a man to dote on her, to "talk to her," to rape her, lives. The woman who doesn't have any men bathing her, or sitting by her bedside at all hours of the night, or tending to her, dies. (Yes Lydia technically had another man after Marco abandoned her, but he was just as cold and distant as Marco. I'm not implying that it was Marco's absence that specifically lead to her death; even if he'd stayed I don't think she woulda lived more than another month because Almodóvar seems to be saying women need to be actively loved if they are to survive; distant introverts like Marco don't cut it.) Let us also not forget the opening scene, which entails a seemingly blinded woman wandering around a stage as a man hurries to move obstacles like chairs and tables out of her way. If he fails, she stumbles; she is helpless without his assistance.

My stance is inevitably greeted by Talk to Her's supporters with a 'Why do you have to make the themes gender specific like that? Can't the movie simply be saying that people need other people's love and care to survive?' My response is that amidst a movie that is so explicitly told in terms of male and female interrelationships, I'm neither comfortable removing gender from the equation, nor should I be required to. There's four primary characters here and the women are so anonymous I don't feel comfortable simply saying, 'well here is a movie about four characters that doesn't say anything larger about humanity.' Lydia's comatose storyline is a cheap and convenient way for Almodóvar to bolster his aims for Benigno's storyline. Almodóvar's clearly stating Benigno raping Alicia ultimately saved her life, so re-examine your conventional notions of words like "love" and "rape" and recognize that even the most seemingly perverted and horrid of acts can be rooted in goodness. Admittedly, this coulda been a great foundation for a film. Unfortunately Almodóvar was too craven to pursue it justly, and not only did he have to have his cake and eat it too by punishing Benigno with jail and death (thereby turning him into a martyr and letting all the viewers who never really liked him shed crocodile tears at his grave), but by also claiming via Lydia's lazy fate, "Hey you think love even in the form of rape is so terrible? Well look what happens when the intense love isn't there! Death!"

The far more courageous and challenging decision would have been to (A) Develop Marco's character with a non-comatose woman, or at least a comatose woman who doesn't die and (B) Not punish Benigno. Maybe even reward him. Then people might really start re-examining things. In the end, I didn't think Marco ever changed. Even the implication of his forthcoming relationship with Alicia didn't make me take a step back and say Marco is prepared to love (instead I pitied Alicia because she's doomed to a more tedious life with Marco than even when she was comatose). Almodóvar strains to suggest uplift with his final scenes but there's no evidence Benigno's death had any profound effect on Marco. I never much bought their allegedly evolving friendship in the first place; I never felt Marco cared for Benigno beyond a casual, selfish curiosity and suddenly in the last act he's flying halfway across the world to take care of Benigno in prison. Almodóvar is often praised for his uncompromising portraits of marginalized characters, but watching Talk to Her one can't shake the idea he's an exceedingly wishy-washy filmmaker.

Return home.