123 mins |
Rated
M (Sex scenes)
Directed by Pedro Almodóvar
Starring Virna Lisi, Oona Laurence, Julieta Serrano, Aitana Sánchez-Gijón, Milena Smit, Daniela Santiago, Israel Elejalde
The Spanish director’s latest film, starring Penélope Cruz and Milena Smit, examines the traumas of his country’s history through the story of two women giving birth at the same time, Janis and Ana, coincide in a hospital room where they are going to give birth. Both are single and became pregnant by accident. Janis, middle-aged, doesn't regret it and she is exultant. The other, Ana, an adolescent, is scared, repentant and traumatized. Janis tries to encourage her while they move like sleepwalkers along the hospital corridors. The few words they exchange in these hours will create a very close link between the two, which by chance develops and complicates, and changes their lives in a decisive way...
“Parallel Mothers” is graced by slow fades into darkness—at one point, the camera dives into a cup of black coffee—and the score, by Alberto Iglesias, could be that of a sad whodunnit. The prevailing mood is both beautifully forgiving and ruthlessly unforgetful, concluding in quiet magnificence: we see people from Janis’s town, most of them female, processing with a steady purpose down a country road, on their way to inspect an open grave. Think of them as a squadron of Antigones. No disrespect to Arturo, but Almodóvar leaves us with an overwhelming sense that the pursuit of justice, by right, is women’s work. That is why the movie ends with Cecilia, now a little girl, at a graveside. Welcomed to life as the story begins, she brings it to fruition by gazing down at the dead... New Yorker
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The Spanish director’s latest film, starring Penélope Cruz and Milena Smit, examines the traumas of his country’s history through the story of two women giving birth at the same time, Janis and Ana, coincide in a hospital room where they are going to give birth. Both are single and became pregnant by accident. Janis, middle-aged, doesn't regret it and she is exultant. The other, Ana, an adolescent, is scared, repentant and traumatized. Janis tries to encourage her while they move like sleepwalkers along the hospital corridors. The few words they exchange in these hours will create a very close link between the two, which by chance develops and complicates, and changes their lives in a decisive way...
“Parallel Mothers” is graced by slow fades into darkness—at one point, the camera dives into a cup of black coffee—and the score, by Alberto Iglesias, could be that of a sad whodunnit. The prevailing mood is both beautifully forgiving and ruthlessly unforgetful, concluding in quiet magnificence: we see people from Janis’s town, most of them female, processing with a steady purpose down a country road, on their way to inspect an open grave. Think of them as a squadron of Antigones. No disrespect to Arturo, but Almodóvar leaves us with an overwhelming sense that the pursuit of justice, by right, is women’s work. That is why the movie ends with Cecilia, now a little girl, at a graveside. Welcomed to life as the story begins, she brings it to fruition by gazing down at the dead... New Yorker