BAD EDUCATION

From the opening strains of its Bernard Herman-like score to the evocative pulp style of its title sequence (Saul Bass would be proud) Pedro Almodovar’s Bad Education makes its film noir intentions from the git-go. It’s an odd fit, to be sure. The celebrated Spanish filmmaker is best known for his garish color palette, flamboyant melodramas and campy sense of humor, not moody lighting, tales of dark intrigue and seedy underworld characters.

It seems, however, that Almodovar is interested in shaking things up as of late. With his last few films, especially All About My Mother and Talk To Her, the writer/director has shown remarkable maturity in his style and subject matter. His trademark soap opera flourishes are still on display but so always are genuine moments of human emotion and sincerity. Both films embraced their complex and tragic characters with honesty and, amazingly enough, restraint.

His latest film, Bad Education is both a step forward… and a step back.

Set in the 1980s, this convoluted, semi-autobiographical, highly homoerotic film features pouting hunk, Gael Garcia Bernal (Motorcycle Diaries, Y Tu Mama) as the ‘femme fatale’ Ignacio. A struggling actor, Ignacio visits his old parochial school chum, Enrique Goded (Fele Martinez), a filmmaker who specializes in gay drama, looking for work. As children the two shared a budding romance that was thwarted by a pedophile priest. Ignacio has written a story based on their experience with hopes of playing the film’s lead. From here the line between reality and fiction gets slippery and the plot takes more than a few unexpected turns. To unpeel the onion-like layers of the film would be doing you a disservice and sorely challenge my abilities as a critic.

Not unlike the work of Patricia Highsmith (The Talented Mr Ripley), Bad Education presents an elaborate jigsaw puzzle of identity and florid sexual desire. Weaving an elaborate skein of deception, blackmail and murder, Almodovar clearly hopes to emulate the fatalistic melodrama of Double Indemnity (his references to the film are hardly subtle) while getting in a few gleeful jabs at catholic hypocrisy and Franco-era repression. It’s an absorbing story that bubbles with unexpected plot twists, character reversals and devilishly sensual images.

The movie stumbles, however, with Almodovar’s more personal indulgences. The protracted flashbacks of Ignacio and Enrique’s school days, while expertly handled, sit uncomfortably alongside Bad Education’s switchbacks of narrative misdirection. The film loses momentum during these sequences and the carefully constructed noir elements unravel.

Further complicating things, is the lack of emotional heart. Despite Bad Education’s melodramatic contortions its characters are a chilly lot. It’s hard to connect with either Ignacio or Enrique because both are rendered as guarded and inscrutable. As a result much of the film’s tension and suspense are undermined. Without someone to identify with, the audience is left to witness rather than experience the elaborate plot revelations. This is surprising given the director’s typically ebullient fondness for his characters. Maybe it’s the nearly complete absence of women, another first for the filmmaker, which has left the film starving for sentiment.

Still, there is much to enjoy. This is Pedro Almodovar, after all. The characters are colorfully shallow, the dialogue is witty, and the story-within-a-story plot twists catch you off guard. Each narrative twist challenges assumptions about what and whom you’ve seen in earlier scenes. It’s nice to watch a film that takes for granted the viewer’s intelligence and requires your complete attention.

As with most of his films, the cast is terrific. Particularly outstanding is Gael Garcia Bernal as the ambitious young actor, Ignacio, and the surprisingly sexy transvestite, Zahara. Bernal is quickly becoming the Johnny Depp of foreign cinema. Not content to rely on his pretty boy looks, he embraces unexpected roles with conviction and intelligence.

Bad Education, like much of the Cohen Brother’s work, is primarily about cinema as its own reality. Even if its noir aspirations don’t always succeed, the film’s ambitions affirm Almodovar’s commitment to his art. He is that rare creature in cinema: a director who constantly challenges himself as an artist. And like any true artist, his love for his medium is contagious.