The Almodóvar abyss

He is the world's most acclaimed Spanish film director. Each one of his releases is a momentous event in the national and international film scene. Pedro Almodóvar, who is about to release his 18th feature-length film, The Skin I Live In - probably his darkest, harshest film to date - talks at length about current events, from the likely electoral victory of the Spanish right to the 15-M grassroots protest movement and the proliferation of amateur paparazzi.

Question. You wrote in the promotional material for this film about the importance of a sentence by Bulgarian Nobel Laureate Elias Canetti: "... the interrupted coming and going of the tiger behind the bars of his cage, so he will not miss that single, brief instant of salvation," which is a reference to the attitude of your character Elena Anaya, a prisoner of her gilded cage for years. Yet that feeling of living in a cage could also apply to your own life, and it conditions the evolution of your movies, which have changed from those initial comedies to a more dramatic type of cinema.

Hitchcock is the great father of film, and Vertigo is the mother of many movies

These thousands of youths have played out in an exciting way the disaffection many of us Spaniards feel

Answer. But I'm not a prisoner, or if I am, it is only of myself. And if I am incessantly seeking a crack through which to escape, that is because I am constantly looking for elements to inspire me and stimulate me to tell new stories. And that coming and going is part of my life and my work. But there are no bars, or if they are, they are purely biological, related to the passage of time. With regard to The Skin I Live In, it's true that it is likely the darkest movie I've done to date, even though it has the closest thing to a happy ending. But there is a part of the film where the predominating genre is horror, a real kind of horror, without artifice or blood or scares, nothing to do with the way the genre is handled these days. And that horror zone weighs heavily on the spectators' emotions - at least on the hundreds that I've had a chance to talk to, mostly journalists. But it's not a dark movie. There is a lot of light, I didn't want to resort to an expressionist esthetic with shadows against the walls and so on. I sought my own way, which is definitely not the road of shadows. And for this I have to thank José Luis Alcaine for a masterful job as director of photography. He deserves the prize he got at the Cannes Festival for best film photography.

Q. One of the trademarks of your movies is the mix of different genres.

A. You also get that mix in The Skin... The movie moves between drama, scientific anticipation, thriller, horror and melodrama - without entirely renouncing humor, which is also there and always will be. That's our trademark.

Q. A mix of genres that does not respect any of their rules. This new work is notable for the presence of screens and closed circuit TV. Does that recognize the fact that in our times, we have completely lost the innocence of our gaze in exchange for obsessive control?

A.What I meant to underscore is that we are surrounded by screens, by moving images, both on the street and in our homes. Or inside our computers. The computer has become an artifact that we live in, which reflects us and which not only lets in reality, but also lets us engage others, even if they can also use it to control our intimacy without permission. The danger of living naked in front of all these artifacts is a real feeling. But for a director, this massive proliferation of moving images as our daily fare is very interesting, because images are our working tools, and right now, whether for a storyteller, for the police or for detectives - trades that closely resemble storytelling - it has meant much richer tools for investigating, documenting or developing a story. It is true that these days, it is possible to follow a person's comings and goings exhaustively, from the moment they leave the house until they get back. We have lost great doses of intimacy. The character in my movie certainly has none. She is constantly being observed like a lab rat being experimented with. Besides the control images in black and white, there is the giant plasma screen owned by Dr Ledgard, Antonio [Banderas'] character, which takes up half the wall facing Vera-Elena's room. My intention is to create the sense they practically live together. And when Antonio zooms in on her, and Elena's face is as large as three-quarters of Antonio's; my point is that even though he may be in charge, Elena is really controlling the relationship. The various sizes of the screens on which she appears have a purely narrative interest, besides representing life itself.

Q. Speaking of stolen images, what is your opinion of the paparazzi?

A. I am not a fan of theirs, unless their name is Ron Galella (the pioneering paparazzo who relentlessly followed Jackie Onassis and other celebrities).

Q. But that is something you discover later.

A. It's true. When he photographed Jacqueline Kennedy on the street, I don't suppose she imagined those photos would end up hanging in 21st-century museums.

Q. If you were to shoot Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown today, you'd have had to use cellphones.

A. That's the worst kind of paparazzi, the one you run into on the street at any time of the day or night who records and photographs you, without first calling a hairdresser or makeup artist. I'm an approachable guy; I'm ready to talk to anyone I meet on the street. I like it. I have a very good relationship with people on the street. But there are days when I cannot take more than 10 interruptions, with photo included.

Q. Do you think that has an effect on your movies or your life?

A. No, of course not. It has an effect on the length of my stride, in the pace of my walking. Keep in mind that's the only sport I do, walking. I'm already at that stage, thinking about my blood pressure and heartbeat. I've got exercise machines at home, but I'd rather go out and get some fresh air. I already live with a cat, and I'm about to get a dog so he'll take me out on walks. I myself am amazed at all these changes.

Q. That's a lot of changes since the days when you got up on stage at the Rockola club with Fabio McNamara to sing Me voy a Usera in a padded dressing-gown and a heavy fake pearl necklace.

A. I don't know the first thing about precious stones. I've always preferred imitation jewellery. Yes, it's been many years and many changes. Thirty years. I'm very proud of the padded dressing-gown and the night outings and the 1980s, but if I'd followed down that same road, we wouldn't be doing this interview now.

Q. Your moviemaking has also changed.

A. Thank you.

Q. What I mean is that between those nutty comedies and the darkness of The Skin...there is an abyss.

A. That might be. I've arrived at The Skin... in a natural way, day by day, movie by movie. To me it's as natural a change as the biological change. I'm glad my moviemaking has changed. I admit the stories I now tell are more serious than the ones I told 30 years ago. It's what comes out of me, but there are things that never change, such as wanting to be understood, and for my movies to be understood despite their complexity, and above all I want to be entertaining. It's true I make no concessions, I do whatever I want, the way I want. And sometimes that is a challenge to myself and to the spectator. I need a spectator who's alive, awake, free of prejudice and ready to be pleasantly surprised with the unexpected turns of the story. And even though my palette of colors is darker, it is precisely these darker movies I've shot in the last decade that have earned me the greatest prestige and international acclaim. I say this merely informatively, without any vanity. Perhaps abroad, where I'm not part of the family, these changes are better valued.

Q. In The Skin..., Marisa Paredes' family and her two children are from Brazil, a country you selected because it lacks a Jewish-Christian tradition. Bad Education is a clear demonstration of what a Christian education does. We are going through times that suggest a new electoral triumph of the right, whose most disturbing image is that of María Dolores de Cospedal [the conservative premier of Castilla-La Mancha] taking part in the Corpus Christi procession in Toledo. Are you worried about the immediate future?

A.You'll be surprised to hear I like the mantilla [traditional lace head covering]. It is very popular in La Mancha, my sisters wear it during Easter and I own a beautiful photograph of myself as a teen with my two sisters dressed in black and wearing mantillas, which I keep like a precious heirloom. I don't want to be gloomy and much less play the soothsayer at a time when things change in a matter of hours. Every day, something important happens - one day [Valencian premier] Camps resigns, the next day Amy Winehouse dies, the board of directors of SGAE is ready to change and let all members participate in the decision-making, after which seven members come out to deny such a thing; one day, the Popular Party [PP] leads the Socialists by more than 10 points, and then the distance is cut down to three points because of the [Socialist candidate] Rubalcaba effect; the pope faces new cases of abuse and torture in Ireland, for the umpteenth time. Strauss-Kahn is a pig one day, and a poor victim the next. For weeks he is condemned to the most humiliating ostracism, then suddenly half the French population wants him to return to politics. The tabloid The News of the World is shut down over a case of unbridled spying involving British politicians, the police, Scotland Yard... and Mr Murdoch finally shows his true, horrible face. It is impossible to encompass the present, much less to determine the future. Am I worried? Of course. A lot. Right now we can speak with fear about the takeover of the right in the upcoming elections, but I don't want to get ahead of myself. The present is rushing along at a mad pace, dragging old fears and new hopes in its wake. For instance, I think that the 15-M [grassroots protest movement] has brought new energy to us, to the Spanish left. I find citizens to be much more aware and willing to participate, and even to unite, than nine months ago. Lots of things will happen in the coming weeks. I will participate as much as I can, but I will be mostly focusing on the release of The Skin...< in Europe and soon after that in the US. I fear I'm going to miss much of what happens in Spain this fall because I will spend a long period of time in New York and L.A.. But I'll be following the news.

Q. Since you mentioned it, what do you make of 15-M, this large, heterogeneous, spontaneous and peculiar movement, very curious from the sociological standpoint, in which several generations have come together?

A. I think it fortunately does away with the notion we had until now about our youth being apolitical. The kids who were born in democracy found everything had already been done for them, they have no memories of sometimes having to fight to improve your own living conditions. This apolitical attitude was more true of the first generation born in democracy, the generation that stayed at their parents' house, feeling no need for emancipation even at age 40. But the younger ones, without any prior notice, settled into Puerta de Sol one day and proved they're not like their older siblings. They're educated youths, but have few hopes for the future, and they're not ready to go to Germany to find jobs, instead meeting in street assemblies to complain about the problems affecting them that politicians seem unconcerned about. Finally, these thousands of youths have played out in an exciting way the disaffection many of us Spaniards feel, and the fact that we don't identify with our politicians, how we reject the evictions, the way the solution to the crisis has been broached, our opposition to a two-party system, the need for a new electoral law, the belittling of a democracy that needs to evolve in order to continue being one. The 15-M movement is our May of 68, except we're not asking for utopias; nearly everything being denounced and demanded here is dramatically real, possible and necessary.

Q. Aren't we collectively exaggerating the importance of this movement?

A. That might be. But personally I am willing to hold on to that exaggeration like it was my only salvation. It's not like 15-M is going to solve our future, but I do think it managed to make us sit up and take notice. Awareness and participation by civil society is very important. I think the solution lies in a dynamic citizen body. Although Franco ruined the idea of the referendum, there are many issues on which politicians could consult citizens; democracy cannot consist exclusively of people going to the polls every four years, in our case, to vote for two parties we don't identify with. New technology must be incorporated into the relationship between politicians and citizens. You can no longer hold that "it's better not to hold a referendum on this issue because they won't understand it." That paternalism cannot be sustained these days. Life is much more dynamic, but this new rhythm has not reached politics yet. They need to get up to speed. We are in the midst of a whirlwind of change, of the dawn of a new era, and each of us needs to change accordingly. It's a dizzying prospect, but there's no choice. The future has caught us with our pants down. And we need to get a move on.

Q. The Skin... meant working with Antonio Banderas for the first time since Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down!, a long period of time in which you both became internationally known. In the movie, Banderas displays an extraordinary restraint, he barely moves a muscle in his face. How was it working with him again?

A. He doesn't move any muscles because I imposed that on him. Antonio is very expressive and in this case I asked him for the contrary. From the beginning I decided that since the story of The Skin... is so brutal, the tone had to be very austere, aseptic even. And Antonio adjusted perfectly to what I was asking of him. At first he was surprised, but he submitted immediately. I remember that during preparation for the movie I gave him a DVD of Le cercle rouge by Jean-Pierre Melville, one of my fetish directors. Way before the irregular Kitano, Melville had already invented the silence of violent men and facial inexpressiveness. The actors in Le cercle rouge, a bunch of sophisticated thieves and obsessive policemen, don't move a single muscle in their faces. Antonio understood straight away. His character is a psychopath, and by definition a psychopath is unable to put himself in someone else's shoes, that's why he is capable of the worst atrocities, because he has no awareness of pain. He doesn't know what that is. And to express that inability, the best thing was to empty the face of all emotion, no matter how small. Antonio couldn't express the slightest feeling. Until he falls in love with Elena, that is. Love humanizes him.

Q. Your movie also part suggests Hitchcock's Vertigo...

A. If you're a director, Hitchcock's influence is inevitable. Hitchcock is the great father of film, and Vertigo is the mother of many movies. Any story in which a man tries to modify a woman automatically includes Vertigo. I am happy about that reference. What's more, to me, James Stewart's obsession with reshaping Kim Novak represents the director's obsession with the actors. Nothing represents a director better, at least to me, than James Stewart changing the color or style of Kim Novak's hair, or going shopping with her and deciding what clothes she should wear. I see myself with Penélope Cruz or Elena Anaya.