The comfort of strangers indeed, or perhaps care as a form of fetishised obsession. A more restrained Almodovar - and none the worse for it - with an elegiac web of absences and solitudes achieved via coincidence and crossed paths. The stronger emphasis than usual on men is welcome, albeit being supplicant to the adoration of women. The silent film pastiche is a distracting indulgence, otherwise it's superb overall.
This particular Almodovar film, magnifies the narcisisstic fantasies of the male ego projected onto a doll-like, unresponsive, virtually dead body. It is a masturbatory romance that exists in Benigno and Marco's mental fabrication to cope with solitude. The ending is typical Almodovar as he does have a formula to all of his films.
This year I’ve discovered the power of melodrama with Sirk, Fassbinder, and now Almodovar. But I’m not sure if this constitutes as melodrama, although it is clearly inspired by TV soap operas. But again, maybe it’s not even that, maybe the emotion is too genuine, too true for that label. Or maybe I’m just failing to recognize that art with real emotional power can come in many forms.