Volver Synopsis
Sister’s Raimunda (Penelope Cruz) and Sole (Lola Dueñas) return to the windy rural village of their childhood, Alcanfor de las Infantas to visit the grave of their mother Irene (Carmen Maura) and their aging and batty Aunt Paula (Chus Lampreave). While there, they are dismayed by the senility of their aunt, yet confused by rumours that the ghost of their late mother is taking care of her. Back in Madrid, Raimunda and her teenage daughter Paula (Yohana Cobo) return to husband and father Paco, a useless unemployed drunk. In a desperate attempt at self defence from his sexual abuse, Paula accidentally murders Paco and Raimunda must face the consequences, covering for her daughter’s crime in an act of devotion. Meanwhile, the single Sole, who is a hairdresser also living in Madrid, discovers some secrets about the ghost of her mother, which brings the whole family together in a twist of mystery and suspense.
Review
Volver is an intriguing exploration and return to the theme of women, rooted both in a nostalgia for the geography of Almodovar’s own childhood, and the historical past of the sisters orphaned by fire. Volver returns to many things, as its title suggests; comedy, motherhood, ghosts of the past and Almodovar favourites Carmen Maura and Penelope Cruz, while also depicting a clear departure from the masculinity of his previous male-led films such as Hable con Ella (2004) and La Mala Educación(2002). Nominated for an Oscar for Cruz’s fiery portrayal of Raimunda, Volver is Almodovar’s highest box office earning production to date, and caused a critical storm in 2005.
Volver ‘s return to motherhood in the intertwining social relations across three generations of women; Raimunda (Cruz), Paula (Cobo), Sole (Dueñas), and Irene(Maura), is a conscious homage by Almodovár to his own mother whose ethereal presence during filming he claims, offered him a sense of serenity and support. It is also a theme throughout the narrative, reminiscent of the mother love in Tacones Lejanos (1991). Like Tacones Lejanos, Volver also juxtaposes motherhood with the violent threat of the patriarch, offering patricide as the solution. With echoes of Hollywood ‘s 1945 Mildred Pierce, Raimunda is the domestic yet fiercely independent woman, who even has some hidden culinary skills up her sleeve too, as she spontaneously takes over a restaurant. Raimunda surely represents the changing role of women in a post-Franco Spain as breadwinner in light of useless Paco’s unemployment.
Volver marks another momentous return for Almodovár in his reunion with Carmen Maura, since their notorious falling out after Mujeres al Borde de un Ataque de Nervios 18 years prior; a trend which the director followed again 5 years later with the dark return of Antonio Banderas in his first Almodovár production since 1990, La Piel que Habito (2011). Maura, the ghostly supernatural mother and grandmother, is linked to her role as husband-killer in Que He Hecho Yo para Merecer Esto (1984). Cruz too, has experience playing a mother in the past, albeit not as alluring, as Volver’s Raimunda: in Carne Tremula (1997) she was the teenage prostitute, while Todo Sobre Mi Madre (1999) saw her as an HIV infected nun, impregnated by a transvestite. Volver takes a step back from these previous loud, camp vibrancies, replacing the flashbacks and reversals of Almodóvar’s earlier Hable con Ella(2002) and La Mala Educación(2004), with a more simplistic and transparent structure. Almódovár weaves a subtly nuanced tapestry from the two main threads of narrative, comfortably cutting between the colourfuly urban Madrid and the blander and more haunting village rurality of La Mancha.
Like Almodovar’s Todo Sobre mi Madre, the solidarity of Raimunda, Sole, Paula and Irene, as well as the epitome of the good-hearted rural neighbour and secret keeper Agustina(Blanca Portillo), is a clear cinematic interpretation of Adrienne Rich’s ‘Lesbian Continuum’ as well as a subtle parallel to the homosocial-relations of Aranoa’s ‘Los Lunes al Sol’ four years earlier. The shooting style too, is straightforward often focusing eye level on the womens dialogue emphasising that gossip-like conversation that defines female neighbours in old –time superstitious Spanish rural villages of the dictatorship.
Woman is the domestic goddess in Volver, strong, formidable and sexy epitomised by Cruz’s imitation of Sophia Loren’s look. She is buxom and sophisticated sporting Massimo Gattabrusi’s dark hairstyles and black feline flicked eyeliner of Ana Lozano’s make up. This look oozes classic Italian neo-realism which Almodovár acknowledges with a 20 second clip of Anna Magnani in Visconti’s Bellisima (1951). However, this strong image of woman is still fetishized (with Cruz’s prosthetic bottom, ‘the only fake part’ of her body) and subjected to the gaze of the viewer as in an unexpected high angle shot Raimunda’s cleavage is mischievously exposed.
The powerful images of family ties between women are set against a backdrop of nostalgia for the past. Another high angle shot brings a stark contrast to Raimunda’s cleavage at Tía paula’s funeral with the congregation of mourning women oppressively akin to the women of Lorca’s La Casa de Bernada Alba. This compliments the lack of individuality of hoards of male mourners resigned to the courtyard outside. The the opening shot, where the camera slowly pans from right to left of a cemetery evokes a return to the past, as the women of the village ritualistically clean the gravestones of their loved ones. The village is its own character too, with a wind of insanity generated centuries ago by Cervantes’ Don Quixote, and an eerie pre-Franco aesthetic of La Mancha stoned streets and sober facades and courtyards which both intrigues and disturbs. This could also be said of the famous elevated plains or ‘meseta’ of La Mancha itself; the barren, yet picturesque central region with stark landscape which the camera sweeps across, emphasising the modern day wind turbines - a high-tech equivalent to Cervantes’ windmills.
Volver marks another momentous return for Almodovár in his reunion with Carmen Maura, since their notorious falling out after Mujeres al Borde de un Ataque de Nervios 18 years prior; a trend which the director followed again 5 years later with the dark return of Antonio Banderas in his first Almodovár production since 1990, La Piel que Habito (2011). Maura, the ghostly supernatural mother and grandmother, is linked to her role as husband-killer in Que He Hecho Yo para Merecer Esto (1984). Cruz too, has experience playing a mother in the past, albeit not as alluring, as Volver’s Raimunda: in Carne Tremula (1997) she was the teenage prostitute, while Todo Sobre Mi Madre (1999) saw her as an HIV infected nun, impregnated by a transvestite. Volver takes a step back from these previous loud, camp vibrancies, replacing the flashbacks and reversals of Almodóvar’s earlier Hable con Ella(2002) and La Mala Educación(2004), with a more simplistic and transparent structure. Almódovár weaves a subtly nuanced tapestry from the two main threads of narrative, comfortably cutting between the colourfuly urban Madrid and the blander and more haunting village rurality of La Mancha.
Like Almodovar’s Todo Sobre mi Madre, the solidarity of Raimunda, Sole, Paula and Irene, as well as the epitome of the good-hearted rural neighbour and secret keeper Agustina(Blanca Portillo), is a clear cinematic interpretation of Adrienne Rich’s ‘Lesbian Continuum’ as well as a subtle parallel to the homosocial-relations of Aranoa’s ‘Los Lunes al Sol’ four years earlier. The shooting style too, is straightforward often focusing eye level on the womens dialogue emphasising that gossip-like conversation that defines female neighbours in old –time superstitious Spanish rural villages of the dictatorship.
Woman is the domestic goddess in Volver, strong, formidable and sexy epitomised by Cruz’s imitation of Sophia Loren’s look. She is buxom and sophisticated sporting Massimo Gattabrusi’s dark hairstyles and black feline flicked eyeliner of Ana Lozano’s make up. This look oozes classic Italian neo-realism which Almodovár acknowledges with a 20 second clip of Anna Magnani in Visconti’s Bellisima (1951). However, this strong image of woman is still fetishized (with Cruz’s prosthetic bottom, ‘the only fake part’ of her body) and subjected to the gaze of the viewer as in an unexpected high angle shot Raimunda’s cleavage is mischievously exposed.
The powerful images of family ties between women are set against a backdrop of nostalgia for the past. Another high angle shot brings a stark contrast to Raimunda’s cleavage at Tía paula’s funeral with the congregation of mourning women oppressively akin to the women of Lorca’s La Casa de Bernada Alba. This compliments the lack of individuality of hoards of male mourners resigned to the courtyard outside. The the opening shot, where the camera slowly pans from right to left of a cemetery evokes a return to the past, as the women of the village ritualistically clean the gravestones of their loved ones. The village is its own character too, with a wind of insanity generated centuries ago by Cervantes’ Don Quixote, and an eerie pre-Franco aesthetic of La Mancha stoned streets and sober facades and courtyards which both intrigues and disturbs. This could also be said of the famous elevated plains or ‘meseta’ of La Mancha itself; the barren, yet picturesque central region with stark landscape which the camera sweeps across, emphasising the modern day wind turbines - a high-tech equivalent to Cervantes’ windmills.
This lingering presence of death, and general lack of good men, undercuts the vibrancy of the women in the thriller-esque medium long shots of empty village streets (the wind rattling the shutters) as well as the prominence of the colour red in the rich cinematography of Jose Luis Alcaine. This visual accompaniment to the flamenco in Estrella Morente's 1961 version of ‘Volver’, evokes tones of Hitchcock with the bloodstained knife-like mystery of a Dario Argento giallo. However, this deathly mystery is frequently domesticated by the granny-style purple cardigans and practical shoes sported by Raimunda and others of the village. Alberto Iglesias’ score follows this frequent change in genre from the thriller-esque staccato strings as Raimunda cleans blood, to the more tender and intimate harp which accompanies the melodramatic reunion of mother and daughter.
Through these contrasts of the rural and urban, and the past and the present, and drama and suspense, Almodovár shows the changing role of the Spanish woman, from the end of the oppressive dictatorship in 1975 to the employment, legal abortion and same-sex marriage present in Zapatero’s socialist democracy of 2005. The lack of positive masculine roles to compliment the power of women removes some of the emotional power present in the earlier Atame(1990), however, Volver gently reminds us that a return to the past, though painful, as we hear in Cruz’s masterful lip-synching of the nostalgic Tango, can also be insightful, important and illuminating.
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