Talk to Her (Pedro Almodovar, 2002)
I
wanted to begin our screenings with Pedro Almodovar's "Talk to Her"
because I think it represents the culmination of the variety of processes I
would like us to explore in the class.
Mostly
I think the film allows for a very transparent view of what the process of
cultural redefinition of Spain, from dictatorship to modern democracy, represents aesthetically as well as ideologically, in
the evolution of Spanish film, although this will become more apparent as we
see some earlier films.
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Pedro Almodovar and Rosario Flores in the set of Hable con ella
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Aesthetically
it is representative of that process of redefinition because, as we will see
over the following weeks, it is the culmination of a process of articulation of
a very unique, modern, narrative style that builds on the aesthetic traditions
of Spanish and international film and art histories, incorporating elements
from Spanish high art and popular culture –music, literature, film, art— but
also of other nations' (someone in an earlier class commented how the images of
Alicia in the hospital, and her nakedness echoed religious iconography of the European
renaissance). This generates a vision of culture that effectively subverts many
of the more negative aspects of the values assigned to the established
tradition of Spain by appropriating that tradition and giving it a broader
meaning, more in line with the principles of a new, democratic, European, Spain.
Ideologically,
the film can be read as a complex and also highly individualized and insightful
reading of Spain’s struggle to overcome the challenges of deeply ingrained
prejudices. In that sense, Talk
to Her is also symbolic of
the trauma that results from not dealing with unresolved issues (for all of the
principal characters, except, perhaps, Alicia). A political reading of the film
could suggest that Almodóvar presents a Spain that seems to have come to terms
with its cultural conflicts but where prejudices persist not only in the
surface, but also at the psychological level, preventing the society from
healing. The secretary is capable of talking about her bowel movements on the
telephone, but Benigno, Marcos, and Lidia are not able to express their
feelings clearly or openly to each other, with disastrous consequences
–Benigno, perhaps, because the dysfunctional nature of his environment
(fatherless, with a domineering mother-figure have not allowed him to…) the
others, we could argue, for something similar, but would have to dig a bit
deeper into the dialogue to decipher it.
It is
not surprising that the film addresses many of these issues through the prism
of sexuality and gender. During the Franco dictatorship strict social mores
were imposed through education, censorship and information manipulation, that
is, by using propaganda, hiding and/or distorting information. Gender roles
were strictly defined and enforced through social pressure and legislation that,
for example, required a woman to have her husband’s written permission to have
a driver’s license. In the post-Franco years, addressing issues of gender
equality represented a challenge to the traditional mores that were symbols of
the oppression of the fascist regime; in the 21st century Spain the film represents,
these traumas seem to linger in the subconscious of the characters despite
having been, at least theoretically, overcome in everyday society (for example,
nobody is supposed to ask Benigno about his sexual orientation, but the matter
is dealt with in the crudest terms in the private conversation of the nurses.
The reaction of Alicia’s father, a psychiatrist, when he sees Benigno massaging
Alicia’s thigh also hints at the persistence of this dysfunction). It could be
argued that it is precisely the tension between the expected social attitude
towards certain behaviors and the persisting prejudice that is behind
Benigno’s inability to recognize (and even feel and confront) his traumas –although none
of the characters of the film seem to do this in a “healthy” manner…
But it
is also possible that Almodovar is cautioning us about something. The society
that the characters inhabit is not perfect. One unresolved tension is perhaps
represented by how, despite the fluidity of gender roles allowed by modern
society, all the characters suffer from "emotional scars" that are
associated not to direct political events, but to society’s inability to
confront them directly (in the prison, the booth Marcos speaks into is called
“communication”, the center where there are all these strict rules about how
inmates (excuse me, interns) are to initiate communication with the outside
world, an apparently imposed attempt at guiding these prisoners towards
establishing ties with the outside world. This prison communications center
seems to bring even more attention to the emotional damage inflicted by the
fact that the characters live in a dehumanized culture that assigns them roles
into which no one can fit perfectly, and therefore can seem arbitrary. And
although this modern world seems accepting of these characters’ “minor flaws”,
there remains an undercurrent of old closed-mindedness: Although everyone seems
accepting of Marcos’ emotional tears, these still catch peoples' attention.
Lidia’s femininity is openly challenged in the confrontation with the
television host, who insists she has made her way in a male-dominated medium
(ironically breaking the glass ceiling by throwing women like Lydia under the
bus). This suggests stereotypes still weighted heavily on gender roles despite
appearances. Similarly, the nurses’ coffee break conversation, as was mentioned
in class, shows that some of those stereotypes remain in the “collective
unconscious”.
In
previous class discussions, when I have screened this film students have talked
about the moral relativism of the story: We want to hate Benigno for what he
has done, but he seems to be depicted as too nice a guy. But Almodóvar and
society seem to punish Benigno; his life is ruined, he dies. Although Marcos is
his friend, and he helps him get a lawyer, he had warned Benigno of the
consequences of his infatuation with Alicia when the male nurse confessed to
wanting to marry the dancer. The limit of morality seems to be there where
one’s desire runs into someone else’s space: "She cannot say no to you
with any part of her body" Marcos yells at Benigno when the nurse is
confessing his love for Alicia. That sets the limit of personal freedom, the
point at which barriers become necessary.
The
film then seems to address also the pursuit of fulfillment –the desire not to
be alone—and draws on very complex process of communication that do not work
well as absolutes. The film takes a moral position, although it also stresses
how all the characters are flawed. Marcos’ growth seems to sprout from
his acceptance of Benigno’s women’s magazine wisdom, his seemingly candid,
simplistic worldview. Peace might be achieved by the recognition and
acceptance of one's own weaknesses and those of others, and perhaps by the
achievement of a sense of personal freedom through the fulfillment of
desire ("from the earthly rises the ethereal" Katarina tells Alicia
and Benigno).
Is
Almodovar rejecting every myth about gender roles in Spanish society? Does
Benigno, who shares all kind of advice about women ("talk to her"),
really "know everything about women", as he claims? His argument is
laughable, and has echoes of another film sociopath, Alfred Hitchcock’s Norman
Bates from the movie Psycho. Benigno claims he knows all about women because he
"lived 20 years with one and has taken care of this one for four".
But it is the advice Benigno gives Marcos that seems to be the stepping stone
to a new way of approaching relationships, which is why, as we said in class,
we can't hate Benigno despite what he does. It is why we think that now Marcos
is going to have a successful relationship with Alicia, because he has grown,
(which contributes to the notion of a happy ending, although we don't really
see an ending, that is, there really isn't an ending because this is a movie
and the actors wrapped up the shoot and went home).
Perhaps
there are critiques in the story as well. Perhaps Almodovar is telling us that
history is a tale told by an idiot--perhaps made of contradictions-- about the
way gender roles are adopted and performed? After all, the women are not heard
in the film. Lidia complains about it: When Lydia tells Marcos they need to
talk before the bullfight, he tells her: "We have been talking for an hour",
Lidia replies: "No. You have".
Such a
reading, and if we looked at the film as an allegory (a symbolic
representation) of what Spain is confronting as a society --or should confront,
it is being told that it should confront its identity crisis by embracing
itself as a global space.