Reviewed - Volver: Forget the false bottom -Penélope Cruz positively shines in Almodóvar's latest, writes Donald Clarke
The publicity images for Volver, the latest in a string of magnificent late films by Pedro Almodóvar, show Penélope Cruz, whose bottom has been artificially augmented for the picture, either wielding a bloody knife or staring camply out from a fabulous array of flowers. The Almodóvar enthusiast could be forgiven for jumping to the conclusion that, after the relatively sober Bad Education, the director had returned to the extravagance of his early years. The reverse is the case.
Volver, whose action alternates between Madrid and a traditional village in La Mancha, is arguably the most respectable Almodóvar has yet made. True, the plot is alive with wild coincidences, galloping melodrama and hints of the fantastic. Yes, there is a savage murder off-screen. But, for all that, this remains a quiet film, more concerned with natural decay than urban decadence. None of which is to suggest it is anything other than gripping.
Volver, visually restrained, though addicted to the colour red, begins with an impressive shot showing the female inhabitants of a conservative village vigorously tending their antecedents' graves. The film's concerns - death and female responses to it - are thus neatly put before us, even before the action has properly begun.
Cruz, back on fine form after several Hollywood misfires, plays Raimunda, a resolute cleaning woman who has long ago moved to the capital. She and her sister Sole (Lola Duenas), a hairdresser, are still coming to terms with the death of their mother in a fire some years back. Over the course of the film they both encounter surprises that help them towards various conclusions as to their place in the world. Raimunda finds her husband dead, covers up the killing, and successfully embarks on a life alone. Sole, meanwhile, is astonished by the apparently miraculous reappearance of her mother (Almodóvar watchers, aware of the long-running feud between the director and his former muse Carmen Maura, may be equally surprised to discover that actress playing the reanimated parent.) Men barely speak in Volver and, when they do, they tend to say something cowardly or stupid. The film, like quite a few others by gay directors, acts as an insistent tribute to the fatalistic practicality of certain female temperaments. By, for once, focusing almost exclusively on those less-glamorous aspects of womanhood - Cruz is beautiful to no real end - Almodóvar opens himself up to accusations of growing up. We could say worse things about a 56-year-old.
