Written by Andreas Babiolakis

When Pedro Almodóvar released Pain and Glory right at the tail end of the 2010s, it felt like he snuck in one final instant-classic to fulfill a certain quote of his. You see, he has at least one film worthy of being considered a masterpiece for each decade: Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown for the ‘80s, All About My Mother for the ‘90s, Talk to Her for the ‘00s, and then this semi-autobiographical film just in time for the following era. For me, it felt like a return to form for one of my favourite auteurs: where was this Pedro the last few years? It was nice, and it felt like one of his last hurrahs so late into his career. We didn’t deserve it, and it wasn’t expected of him, but here it was. I was pleased if this was it for him, especially considering how much the film relies on his own upbringing and current thoughts as a cinematic artist. If there was anything more surprising than the result of Pain and Glory, it’s the instant kick to the ass I got with the follow-up film Parallel Mothers. I was dead wrong: Pedro Almodóvar isn’t going anywhere. If it took a while for him to release one of his top works in the 2010s, then it took no time at all for him to do the same in the 2020s: Parallel Mothers is magnificent.

Even in his 70s Almodóvar is giving us golden cinema via fresh ideas, interesting executions, and the kind of genre-bending that makes labels feel completely useless. In this latest feature, we have a veteran actress of his (Penélope Cruz, with one of her finest performances to date) is pitted up against a newcomer (Milena Smit): both are mothers-to-be facing similar yet very different pregnancies. They bond over their circumstances, and I can’t help but be reminded of something like Talk to Her, where the men connected to two comatose women also find solace in one another. However, it isn’t like Almodóvar to repeat ideas or do things out of laziness, and it’s as if he took the same seed and went a completely different route as these two women in Parallel Mothers have their lives intertwined in such transfixing ways. Almodóvar has always idolized mothers as givers of life, strong women facing the odds, and moral compasses that we can look up to, and Parallel Mothers is another opportunity for him to really go the distance with how he wants to best represent this.

Typically I like to go all-out with my reviews when it comes to films I give perfect grades to, but I think the less you know about Parallel Mothers the better. All I know is that the film starts off with Almodóvar’s signature uses of loud and primary/secondary colours as punctuation marks, but it’s a wild ride from there on out. There are many twists and turns that can render Parallel Mothers a pseudo-mystery film at times, more for the lead character Janis (Cruz) than ourselves. There’s even a massive 180 that happens, and you may see it coming from a mile way. That doesn’t matter here, because Parallel Mothers goes on afterward so organically, and the purpose of the film’s existence isn’t for this twist but for what leads up to it and results after it instead. Almodóvar also isn’t afraid of stepping over the line (he never was) so the film easily goes the distance in all of the best places, either shocking or embracing us exactly right at all times.

Parallel Mothers expands its universe a little bit with the subplot involving the uncovering of a mass grave dug and filled during the Spanish Civil War, and Almodóvar incorporates it perfectly, with its uses blending into the overall picture almost seamlessly. If we’re looking at maternal and the relations and differences between a middle-aged mom and a younger mother (life goals, viewpoints, self-identities, ways of parenting, and more), then the excavations of the past speak volumes as well. We’re getting engrossed in these two lives, their connections, and their separations, and yet we all wind up the same way when we are found by the next generation: relics of the past, and completely identical to one another as artifacts. It is the legacies that we pass down that last, not us. This is confirmed with the life breathed back into the deceased by loved ones that can finally affix themselves with their heritages. What we make of ourselves is important, but where we came from may be even more crucial to our identities. We learn of two histories for nearly two hours but are reminded of countless more in an instant.

As the name insists, Parallel Mothers is full of dichotomies and mirroring, but it never goes full-on Persona; it doesn’t seem like Pedro Almodóvar to confuse women, but rather have them stand out as individuals at all times. Besides, Almodóvar’s unique visions have enough creativity that he can completely pull off his own narrative, and Parallel Mothers is a riveting watch. It’s as mysterious as it is vibrant, quirky as it is deep, and moving as it is a celebration. It never splits its many identities down the middle to be classifiable: it prefers to be an experience that you can’t dissect so easily. It’s a blending of tastes in pure Almodóvrian style, and it makes his works a result of what we make of them (without having to go the surreal, metaphorical route, typically). If anything, I’m happy that he is still releasing films that remind me of what nonpareil motion pictures feel like amidst remakes, revivals, carbon copies, and works that adhere to blueprints. There’s no film like Parallel Mothers in 2021 both in quality and in feel. It stands out as a singular statement and as a top-notch release. Pedro, you’ve done it again. I don’t know how this late in the game and after so many quality releases, but you have.

Andreas Babiolakis has a Masters degree in Film and Photography Preservation and Collections Management from Ryerson University, as well as a Bachelors degree in Cinema Studies from York University. His favourite times of year are the Criterion Collection flash sales and the annual Toronto International Film Festival.