sharky_55 Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown operates in a farcical world of comic proportions, propelled by the strange magic of Pedro Almodóvar. He makes films like no other; melodramas in an age where the word itself is a smear, an adjective designed to signal ludicrous love plots, overly theatrical acting, music which swoons and sighs. The film has all this, and then some. Look to his mise-en-scene, dyed luridly in a technicolor mash of crimson, deep blue and burnt sienna, as if even the furniture is flushed from all the passion in the air. When Pepa is unexpectedly left by her boyfriend, the world turns tospy turvy, and the result of her quest to discover the truth (it's never quite a straightforward explanation) is a romp reminiscent of an old school Hollywood screwball, where the characters seem to walk and talk in fast motion, throw themselves at new plot revelations, and are held hostage to their emotions. And Almodóvar would not have it any other way. The plot is the plot, which is to say it is a clothesline onto which increasing ridiculous situations are hung onto the main story-line, and Pepa is continually sidetracked in her mission. The first of these obstacles is her best friend Candela, who has been romanced and abandoned all in the same weekend, and now fancies suicide via jumping over the balcony. Then it's revealed her love affair was with a wanted Shiite terrorist, which suddenly ramps up the drama, and brings police into the fold (and the apartment). Also visiting is Carlos, son of Pepa's lover, and her haughty girlfriend, who are real-estate hunting and become unwillingly wrapped up in the whole mess. Almodóvar's penchant for genre mish-mash reveals itself here, constructing a locked room of increasing complexity and convoluted love triangles (or is it a rectangle, pentagon...), a revolving door of incensed bit characters who all crave the spotlight. Nearly all of them are women. As per the title, women fling themselves into pits for love, willingly embarrass themselves in these pursuits (notice the visual gag with the taxi driver's eye-drops, riffing on the genre of weepies), begin to concoct all kinds of tall tales in their heads. Almodovar's women are bravely undignified, operate at a furious, screwball pace, and come in all shapes and sizes. He may be one of the few directors to continually spotlight middle-aged love, grief and desire in the feminine form. There is no judgement here, only empathy and understanding. He casts Rossy de Palma who looks and speaks the part of an antagonistic witch, but look who is cheating on her while she is unconscious: her slimy, boyish partner. And see her value in the final scene, where Pepa has been chasing an absent masculine presence for the entire film only to find solace right beside her. Almodóvar's early films were the celebratory fireworks of a cultural explosion in post-fascist Spain. His initial comedies were instantly recognisable for their striking, campy style, showcasing never before screened minorities, flirting with boundaries of sexuality and gender through vibrant mise-en-scene, emotive music and outrageous costume and makeup. As he matured as a filmmaker, he recognised the potential for further playing in and between these fiery caricatures, using them as not merely flashy rebellion but as a way of investigating and rebuking common stereotypes, particularly of women. The initial scenes show the film wresting with these; Pepa and Ivan are both voice actors for trashy romance films, filling in for younger, more attractive starlets, with Pepa herself seemingly unable to reconcile the screen and the reality of her own love life. Ivan's voice is hinted to be the common factor in all his flings; women flock like fireflies to the film star's rich baritone. Pepa is one of those flies, and cannot stand to be discarded. Almodóvar further plays with his images. The set design of Pepa's coveted penthouse is key, with shiny baubles and trinkets set up in all corners, globes, lamps, statues and other trash scattered through the rooms. The plants are green, too green, and probably fake - it's a tapestry of kitsch. The terrace aggressively pursues that Californian dream, with tacky beach apparel, palm trees and a view to die for. But Pepa is too busy to even appreciate it, least of all when Candela is about to climb over (look who is the only one to realise), instead rushing around all town in search of her lost man. Only when she finally admits to all this silliness and discards that part of her life does she have the chance to sit down and really gaze at the skyline. The chase is over, the loose ends have been tied up, her secret revealed (the film is basically a two hour set up for a pregnancy brain joke). She is at peace. Her life isn't so bad after all.

wvisser-leusden Confused relationships are a pretty common theme to make a film about. Starting right back in the 19-Thirties with the magnificent American Laurel & Hardy.Being Spanish from 1988, and therefore quite different in its style and approach, this film surely touches on an equal level.Great acting in a stylish film. Presenting us with a slightly surrealistic touch that lifts 'Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios' ways above the common level its story suggests. Making it to a really great black comedy.Mentioning Laurel and Hardy is justified here: they, too, were absolute masters in lifting up a common story to a level that easily survives any passing of time. I have no doubt this Spanish film will do the same.

xavijimenez The title released Almodóvar name worldwide, today remains one of his most acclaimed films. After directing some of their stories underground as "Laberinto de pasiones" (1982) o "Entre tinieblas" (1983), Almodovar line again ¿Qué he hecho yo para merecer esto? (1984), a type of comedy of manners with good scripts, and full of great intrepretaciones scenes that verge on surrealism. The actress Carmen Maura and Maria Barranco are the best in the film, though we must not forget the roles to Julieta Serrano and Fernando Guillen-Cuervo. This title is highly recommended for fans who want to view and retrieve the kitsch/pop Almodovar, the most colorful and most natural to tell stories.

jpschapira I don't think Pedro Almodóvar used to make better films than the ones he makes now; I believe he's always crafted very good movies. But maybe some elements or characteristics of his older pieces are not as present in his actual work, "Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios" made me aware of this. For example, the day that the women of this film experience is unlikely to occur in an Almodóvar work today.Mostly I mean the level of craziness and the absurd. His last film, "Volver", finds a lot of women living 'at the verge of a nervous breakdown' (as the title of this movie translates in English), and although they are about to loose their minds at times, they don't find the same taxi driver three times when they stop a cab in different parts of a big city on a same day… That's delirious!But what's even more delirious is that Almodóvar's writing, with a perfect eye for understanding the female conscience, seems completely real but is cut off by situations like the one I've just mentioned; and that's a beautiful contrast. It's like watching a middle shot of Pepa (Carmen Maura) talking on the phone that suddenly changes to a close-up of her fast walking red high heels; it's like hearing things a woman in a difficult situation would think, but listening to the woman saying them out loud. I don't know if Almodóvar would want to explain what "Mujeres…" is about; maybe he'd prefer that you watch it without reading anything about it. I could just tell you it involves a woman (Pepa) having an affair with a man that left his sick wife and his nerdy son, who's involved with an ugly desperate woman that goes with him to visit an apartment to buy and the apartment is Pepa's, who at the moment is being visited by a girlfriend who's scared because her ex-boyfriend turned out to be a terrorist…Don't say that you would have preferred I hadn't told you anything.This is one of Almodóvar's first works, but don't forget this is the man who afterwards made semi-autobiographical pictures with risky images and character dramas with ruthless and pathetic characters. As a director, Almodóvar makes all his films look practically the same (the cinematography of the ever efficient Jose Luis Alcaine), although here the score is from a thrilling (Bernardo Bonezzi), before Alberto Iglesias started collaborating with Pedro. Which takes us to the differentiating factor in an Almodóvar film: the screenplay, in this movie as always highlighted by the classic credits "screenplay and direction". Better than anything else, we find Almodóvar the writer, capable of creating (in this piece) wonderful characters speaking all the same time in a small room where you can understand everything and you don't stop laughing.And therefore the performances shine; here by means of a unique and impossible to replace Carmen Maura, a beautifully over the top Julieta Serrano, a hilarious María Barranco and an unrecognizable Antonio Banderas, who shows here that he was probably something like an actor during a time of his life; Almodóvar allowed me to see that.