WELL, YOU CAN’T ACCUSE ME OF ALWAYS SIDING WITH THE CRITICS. Having loved Pedro Almodovar’s "Talk to Her," I decided to rent "Todo Sobre Mi Madre," ("All About My Mother") also reputed to be a masterpiece. Having watched this well-directed, but overly whimsical and rambling farce, I can only remark, "?Por que? Esa pelicula no estaba tan buena."I mean, it’s an okay movie. But I don’t think it deserved the Best Foreign Language Film Oscar in 1999.
 
* SPOILERS AHEAD! *

The movie concerns itself with Manuela, a nurse who once played Blanche in an amateur production of "A Streetcar Named Desire." She has a teenage son named Esteban. For his 17th birthday, Manuela takes him to see the Tennessee Williams play, which is travelling with a legendary stage talent named Huma. After the production, Esteban tries to get Huma’s autograph. While crossing the street to catch up to her taxi, Esteban is struck and killed by a car.

Sounds a lot like Kieslowski’s "Blue," doesn’t it? Well, don’t worry. This is an Almodovar film, so it doesn’t take long before the plot veers into… stranger territory. Manuela raised Esteban alone; she knows who the father is, but never told him that she was pregnant. Assuming that he still lives in Barcelona, Manuela decides to find the man, to tell him that his son is dead. Of course, it turns out that the father’s name is Lola, that he’s a transvestite prostitute and occasional criminal, and he’s currently flown the coup, having robbed another transvestite prostitute.

Before Manuela can go back home disappointed, she’s pulled into the world of Lola’s jilted trans lover Agrado, who is also her old friend. In trying to help her trannie friend find work that doesn’t involve fellatio for money, she encounters a beautiful nun named Rosa. She’s played by Penelope Cruz in a performance that makes you just want to hug her. They all end up living together, more or less, with Manuela becoming a kind of den mother. As if this new family weren’t enough, the "A Streetcar Named Desire" tour, starring Huma, stops by Barcelona. Manuela is inextricably drawn to the play (It did, after all, have something to do with her son’s death.), and through an unexpected turn of events, ends up working for Huma.

There’s various other plotlines that are introduced and solved. Manuela gets to play Blanche in front of a packed house; Agrado invents The Vagina Monologues; and there’s a baby that leads to a cure for AIDS. (I shit you not.)

Now, I like whimsy as much as the next guy. And I don’t mind that much of Almodovar’s movie seems to plumb the grimier depths of society. But there’s nothing in this supposed masterpiece that either moved or amused me. The plot felt too artificial. Manuela goes to Huma’s play, and, (snap fingers) just like that, she ends up working for the legendary actress. The current Blanche is having personal problems, so Huma needs a replacement. Just like, (snap fingers) that, Agrado gets the job.

And then there’s the continuous references to "…Streetcar." I think the point is, we’re each of us one of the three main characters: Stanley the Brute; Stella the Suffering Wife/Lover; Blanche the Submissive Victim. The roles are in no way restricted to gender. There are women who are brutes, men who depend on the kindness of strangers, men who dress as women who depend on the kindness of strangers, men who dress as women who are brutes, etc. It’s a great juxtaposition.
 
Unfortunately, when Almodovar cuts from scenes of high drama in the play-within-the-play, to scenes of high drama in the movie, the latter scenes also come across as staged. There’s a scene where Manuela breaks down and tells Huma how their lives are connected. "’A Streetcar Named Desire’ has permanently marked my life!" she says, mascara running down her face. God help me, I broke out a laugh. Maybe the line lost something in translation.

The movie also features an extended scene where all four main characters sit in Manuela’s living room talking about sex. Women-bonding stuff which is supposed to be incisive but isn’t, and is supposed to be funny but isn’t. At least they didn’t break into a karoake "Ain’t No Mountain High Enough."

Yet there is good stuff here. The first half-hour leading up to the tragedy is excellent. Then there’s a transition scene where Manuela tells us, via voiceover, about how she left Barcelona to give birth to Esteban. Almodovar uses a POV shot of a train going through a tunnel, with a light appearing at the end. How perfect is that! Barcelona looks magnificent. And the inevitable confrontation between Manuela and Lola is handled in an unexpected way that is downright heartbreaking. By the time Lola finally comes around, you expect a monster, or at least a Kowalski-esque brute. Instead, you get everything else. Which goes back to how "…Streetcar" relates to everyone, and also doesn’t. Brutes can also depend on the kindness of strangers, but the formerly submissive victim finds her strength in granting that kindness.
 
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FOR THOSE WHO HAVEN’T HEARD, THERE’S A NEW SHIITE EXTREMIST GROUP IN IRAQ CALLED “THE SWORD OF GOD.” They’ve threatened to kill any lawyer who defends Saddam Hussein in court.

In a related story, Saddam Hussein has signed off on the day’s minutes of his trial. In return, he gets to cross off “Defending Self in court” from the list of possible ways to be put to death.