Watching a Pedro Almodóvar film comes with certain expectations. Loud, outrageous, female-fronted melodrama has become his trademark, and he works it beautifully. For decades he has managed to walk the fine line between bad taste and camp almost perfectly as in Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown and Volver, and even his few misfires (What Have I Done To Deserve This?) are worth admiring in their transgressive nature.
This is why Pain and Glory, his 21st feature, might surprise even his fervent followers for its sober tone and austere aesthetic. It’s Almodóvar at his most earnest, without the tricks and shock value. Some of his idiosyncrasies are present, and the movie doesn’t lack his usual moments of levity, but even the comedic aspects ring sincere. He hasn’t made it a secret that this is an autobiographical piece of work, and though only he can attest to how personal it is, it definitely reads as honest.
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