Pedro Almodóvar has never shied away from making movies close to himself and the act of making movies themselves. With his latest, Bitter Christmas, he creates the parallel stories of a successful writer-director who is experiencing creative block, and a group of people 22 years earlier who may or not figure into his latest screenplay. With this concept, Almodóvar is asking if it is fair to take the lives of those closest to us and turn them into fiction, or in this case autofiction, where his main protagonist and alter-ego’s memories may be blurring the truth — or not.
So it takes a bit of time to realize we are in essentially two different movies that will intriguingly be merged eventually into one, even as they play as separate storylines in different times. The present-day scenes revolve around filmmaker Raúl Rossetti (Leonardo Sbaraglia), who is in a deep funk, unable to again find the mojo that has made him such a successful writer and director. Living in well-appointed surroundings, his faithful partner is Santi (Quim Gutiérrez) and longtime assistant is Mónica (Almodóvar regular Aitana Sánchez-Gijón), who is taking some time off to attend to a personal crisis but also takes a copy of Raúl’s latest script, “Bitter Christmas,” along with her. This part of the film is set however in summer 2026 and has no relation to the holidays.
The other parallel story we return to frequently is set in December 2004 Madrid, but also really is the most un-Christmasy-feeling scenario imaginable. It centers on another filmmaker, Elsa (Bárbara Lennie), who had directed a couple of feature flops and is instead now using her talents in advertising and commercials. She is hooking up with a younger man, Bonifacio (a delightful Patrick Criado), who works as a stripper (we get to see a whole routine) and firefighter. Yes, he’s versatile. Her colleague and friend is Patricia (Victoria Luengo), who suspects her husband of cheating on her. A third woman in the mix, and Almodóvar fortunately hasn’t lost his love for creating female-centric stories, is Natalia (Milena Smit), whose life crisis is the loss of her son in an auto accident while she was at the wheel. She has a connection to Mónica who becomes a key component, along with Santi/Bonafacio, in cementing these two time periods and worlds together. Her blunt, eventual tough-love assessment of Raúl’s block is game-changing.
The film zips back and forth between these time periods, the past and present, before inevitably merging into one centering on the creative energy renewed for its 60-year-old director, who must put a stop to his own dark period and get what he can’t live without — the satisfaction of writing a screenplay that might be received as well as his greatest work — but more importantly reignite his passion for telling stories in the first place. He is fearful of the passage of time is taking its toll on his ability to do what he always has done, and always must do. The echoes of Almodóvar himself are unmistakable and I sometimes wonder if creating a movie about creating a movie isn’t a form of personal therapy for this maestro of cinema.
Mónica offers a interesting thought, pointing out that even Fellini and Bergman had droughts, but that minor Fellini and minor Bergman is still a gift. This seems to me to be Almodóvar justifying a movie that sees him returning to the well of his own existence, even if it may not be on the level of, say, 2019’s autobiographical Pain & Glory. He shouldn’t worry. There are few filmmakers who haven’t had hills and valleys in their creative life, and quite frankly Almodóvar could coast on his many masterpieces, Oscars, and still be regarded as one of the all-timers. Bitter Christmas indeed is, for me at least, minor-Almodóvar, not likely to be the one that wins him his criminally long-denied Palme d’Or, but nevertheless a flawed movie that remains a fascinating peek into the master’s own head. It takes awhile to get there, but by the last act Bitter Christmas has some piercing dialogue worthy of what we expect from Almodóvar.
Sbaraglia does an excellent job getting into the mind of a man stuck for inspiration and finally finding it in those right under his nose. The rest of the cast including Lennie, Sánchez-Gijón, Luengo and Smit fit right in to Almodóvar’s uniquely melodramatic world. Alberto Iglesias’ Hitchcockian-sounding score however misses the mood this time, too big for the intimacy of this tale.
Producer is Agustin Almodóvar. The film is in the official competition of the Cannes Film Festival where it premiered tonight, after opening in Spain earlier this year.
Title: Bitter Christmas
Festival: Cannes (Competition)
Distributor: Sony Pictures Classics
Director-screenwriter: Pedro Almodóvar
Cast: Barbara Lennie, Leonardo Sbaraglia, Aitana Sánchez-Gijón, Quim Guitierrez, Patrick Criado
Running time: 1 hr 51 mins
