“There's a line in Pain and Glory where Salvador the director, played by Antonio Banderas, proclaims his love for scenes in which people hold back tears but never fully cry. It's in fact the entire focus of Pedro Almodovar's latest film, a movie that reveals more by how much it holds back than by what we're given on screen. Salvador is stuck in a creative rut, digging himself in further with every attempt he makes at self-medication. His habitual drug helps to ease his chronic pain but forces him to lose hours of his life. He tries to surround himself by adoring fans but finds it does little to soothe his imposter syndrome. At the behest of his actor friend Alberto who wants a meaty role, Salvador eventually works up the semi-courage to put himself out there in the form of an anonymous play. A play that magically attracts the one person in the world who just so happens to hold one of the missing pieces to the puzzle of Salvador's pain. Having tasted the glory of actually confronting the uncomfortable, Salvador develops a new addiction: proactively getting to the root of all of his problems.
“As we watch Salvador wander through his otherwise charmed life in a haze of heroin, pain and self-doubt, it's near impossible to not hypothesize on the state of Almodovar himself. Four decades into his illustrious career, Pain and Glory offers a lot of reminiscing on everything from family, lost loves and muses, along with sexual and mental awakenings. While he claims it's not fully autobiographical, there's so many layers to Pain and Glory that it's hard not to see it as some attempt at therapeutic healing. How else can you justify Almodovar directing Antonio Banderas playing Salvador directing Alberto reenacting Salvador's memories which in turn direct his memories of his mother who directed young Salvador? It's Almodovar at his rawest and yet most guarded– picking apart the misguided ideal of male stoicism while still playfully conforming to it.” ~ Jenna Ipcar
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