Introduction (Prologue)

Spanish master Pedro Almodóvar. His films are always imbued with a unique "excessive system" (stylistic beauty) characterized by vibrant interiors, characters who effortlessly transcend the boundaries of sexuality, and passionate dramas of love and hate. He has hacked societal morals and scandals, elevating them into the pop art of cinema

However, among the many masterpieces he left behind, there is one that, no matter how hard I try to separate myself from, remains at the very core of my being: his greatest masterpiece from 1999, "All About My Mother (Todo sobre mi madre)."

Why am I so intensely drawn to this film depicting "women's solidarity"? The answer lies not in the context of film criticism. I think it stems from my own very personal roots: having grown up without ever seeing a photograph of my father or even hearing a story about him

Why are there no "decent fathers" in Almodóvar's world?

The film opens with Manuela, a mother who has lost her beloved son Esteban in a car accident, discovering his last writings in his notebook. There, she finds the boy's heartfelt wish to see, even just a photograph, the "father" who, while knowing "everything about my mother," is half-missing from his life, and to fill that void. To save her son's soul, Manuela travels to Barcelona, ​​the city she once fled, and embarks on a journey to find her "former father," who is now a transgender woman (Laura)

This raises a question for everyone: Why does Almodóvar, who is openly gay, so thoroughly exclude and maintain the absence of a "normal father figure" in his films?

Therein lies his personal roots and his rebellion against two oppressive systems: the history of Spain.
Almodóvar's biological father was an old-fashioned, taciturn worker, an alien who couldn't understand the sensitivity and "parts that deviated from masculinity" that Almodóvar possessed in his childhood. As a result, he naturally grew up absorbing wisdom and creativity within a "women's community" where his mother and neighborhood women gathered.

Furthermore, the Spain he faced in his youth was a right-wing authoritarian society under the dictatorship of General Franco. There, "patriarchy" (a system in which the father holds absolute power over the family) was considered a virtue. For him, a gay man, the societal norm of "be a decent father" was nothing more than a cage that bound him

That's why, for Almodóvar, who began making films after the collapse of the Franco regime, thoroughly dysfunctionalizing and eliminating the father figure in his moviesa cinematic revenge to completely dismantle the oppressive male-dominated society (patriarchy) of the state from within. He smashed the system, essentially saying, "There's no need for a decent father."

Barcelona's night view and the flawed yet "invincible" women

The moment Manuela, burdened by the death of her son, emerges from the tunnel into Barcelona in search of her former husband (father), the night view unfolding on screen is breathtakingly beautiful. The city lights twinkle ominously yet warmly beyond the car window. And the silhouette of Gaudí's Sagrada Familia emerges from the darkness. Almodóvar captures that nighttime scene with overwhelming emotion because it is a " boundless sanctuary (safe space) that equally rejects imperfect human beings, regardless of their past, wounds, or injustices."

And the women who appear in this sanctuary are by no means perfect saints.
Everyone lives with raw, human "flaws" and "bugs"—lies, hysteria, scandalous secrets, or illness. But Almodóvar never condemns their flaws. Rather, he portrays them as incredibly tough and "strong" beings, as they accept their imperfections, laugh at each other's wounds, and stand in solidarity. The sight of these women, who have strayed from the "normality" created by society, powerfully walking forward, transforming even their flaws into their own charm (couture), fully affirms the soul of every viewer.

The boundaries of what society considers a "proper family" are irrelevant to our lives. Even without a photograph of our father or having ever heard a story about him, we exist and are sustained by the overwhelming love of our mother, our roots. Almodóvar, after completely dismantling the existing family system, seems to have arrived at the ultimate salvation (a return to our roots) : "We are perfectly blessed by everyone simply for the fact that we were born."

A panoramic view of maturity: From the "rebellion" of youth to the "embrace" of old age

And now, 25 years later, in his late 70s, "the Almodóvar of today" seems to have taken another step beyond his mother's world, reaching a state of overwhelming "overarching perspective" that quietly looks down on all aspects of life

In the past, he used film as a weapon to bare his fangs at oppressive old systems of society (patriarchy and religion) and prove himself by shattering them. That's why it was necessary to completely omit the father in "All About My Mother." But in "The Room Next Door," which won the Golden Lion at the Venice International Film Festival in 2024 as his first all-English film, he depicted a perfect solidarity of souls with others, quietly accepting even the severance of blood ties and heading toward death, the zero point of life (the ultimate root). The impulsive hacks of his youth had been sublimated into a seasoned wisdom that saw through all of life

And at the culmination of that maturity is his latest feature film, "Bitter Christmas (Amarga Navidad)," which shook the Cannes International Film Festival in 2026

Almodóvar once rejected and eliminated the patriarchal system (father figure) of society, celebrating the solidarity of imperfect women. But in his latest film, made in his later years, he has finally turned the camera lens towards "himself." It is said to be an extremely brave and avant-garde autofiction (autobiographical fiction) that mercilessly exposes his own grotesque ego and inner self as the "father" of the pseudo-family of film and the "creator" who rules that world

Although this film hasn't been released in Japan yet, I'm very interested to see, in many ways, to see how Almodóvar, at the end of his journey in his father's absence, exposes the grotesque inner world of "himself, the creator (father) who makes the story."