Week 1: Law of Desire (1987)

It’s been a while since I’ve seen an Almodóvar film. And I guess his latest release was what piqued my interest in him again. The Skin I Live In reunites the director with Antonio Banderas in a film with a premise that is ridiculously twisted (to say the least). Watch the teaser in the post below.

Law of Desire is one of the earlier Banderas/Almodóvar collaborations and I have to say, I was quite taken aback by it. I had probably forgotten what it was like to watch an Almodóvar film.

He jumps right in. He’s very minimalist with his exposition, allowing for a more organic revelation of his characters’ sordid pasts (and indeed, they are sordid). That said, you have to do some work in order to follow the film at first—a task that was exacerbated should you miss even a single line of subtitle. Just as aggravating as Almodóvar’s tendency to be over-the-top is his ability for subtlety. (But it’s also this contradictory dynamic that makes his movies so enjoyable). The relationships between the characters aren’t made explicit. The only thing that is explicit is the film itself, and the very first sequence attests to its NC-17 rating. Slightly pornographic, highly erotic, and casually self-aware of its own shock value, the scene adequately sets the tone for rest of the movie.

I've seen earlier (Matador) and later (Bad Education) films by him, and Law of Desire is definitely old-school Almodóvar. While his more recent films retain his darkly comedic style, they mostly lack the element of camp in his earlier works. “Camp,” in terms of a discussion of Almodóvar, is characterized by a colorful, highly exaggerated, and almost flamboyant visual and thematic style. (Here’s an essay for those of you interested in a more in-depth exploration of this fascinating concept). From the film’s poster, to the costumes, and even to the subject matter, Law of Desire is all-too camp.

Without giving too much away, the film is about a successful director, his lurid affair with an ardent fan (Antonio Banderas), and the details from his sister’s past that surface when the affair goes awry. Pablo, often described as “selfish” by the other characters, is promiscuous and emotionally distant. His lover, Antonio (yeah, Antonio Banderas plays a character named “Antonio”), is closeted, clingy, and very possessive. To him, “love is not a joke.” It’s clear that this relationship can’t and won’t end well.

These two men aside, the real star of the movie is Tina. A total scene-stealer, Pablo’s transsexual sibling is the perfect embodiment of both dark comedy and camp. One can’t help but wonder whether her transgender is metaphorically significant as well—but that’s for another time. She is a fiery character marked by absurdity and impulse and she brings a quirkiness to the melodrama at hand. She has very frank conversations with her niece Ada (whom she raises as a daughter) and this frankness exemplifies Almodóvar’s signature. He deals with very explicit subject matter (sex, transgender, incest, murder, etc.) but his treatment of these issues is so nonchalant that the fact that he’s very matter-of-fact about them makes them even more shocking. Pair the shock with the charm of his campy characters and what you have is classic Almodóvar.

Next week: Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown (1988)