How cool is it to wake up on Christmas and find an Almodóvar movie under the tree? Or playing at the Angelika, at any rate.
Broken Embraces is the great Spaniard’s first film since 2006’s Volver, which was a perfectly fine entertainment. It marked the first time Penélope Cruz had a film placed on her strong shoulders and was asked to carry it, and she responded with a performance that included earth-mother sensuality—a Mediterranean earth mother, at any rate—and street-wise toughness. She was unapologetically a tough broad.
Almodóvar has pushed her in a different direction this time. She’s still dangerously desirable. But now the danger extends to herself, not just to the brutish men who are drawn to her. That’s because her Lena is also heartbreakingly vulnerable, a tragic heroine from a Douglas Sirk-style melodrama.
That melodrama forms one of the narrative boxes, or stories-within-stories, that Almodóvar plays with here. I’ve put off talking about the way he tells his story for this long because a) I’d need lots of space—and skill—to do it justice and b) I’m very afraid of making Broken Embraces sound like homework. Believe me, it’s not. The story’s complicated, but Almodóvar has become such a master of framing, and of narrative in general, that he’s able to make the viewer respond to his puzzles emotionally rather than intellectually.
The story begins in the apartment of a blind screenwriter who works (and lives) under the pseudonym of Harry Caine (Lluís Homar). Under his real name, Mateo Blanco, he had once been a top director, but a car accident blinded him 14 years before. Now he has to work in words rather than images. He gets a mysterious visit from a young man who wants to make a movie about how his cruel and powerful father ruined his life. He sees the movie as his revenge.
By his voice, Caine recognizes the young man as the son of his mortal enemy. This encounter triggers what you’d technically have to call a flashback, but that term is so woefully inadequate for the movie-within-a-movie that transpires, which is in fact the emotional heart of the movie. Cruz’ Lena was the cruel man’s mistress. Suffocating under his control and his riches, Lena decides to give acting a try. When the director, Blanco, falls in love with her during her audition, a battle for her heart and body begins between the director and the rich industrialist, who counts Lena as his most prized possession.
At the same time, there’s a battle within Lena for her own soul.
The rich man fights dirty. When Lena and Blanco disappear together, the rich man takes his revenge—on the film that they had been making together. He’d produced it himself, as favor to Lena, and after they’re gone he releases it in mutilated form.
Blanco ultimately loses Lena (I can’t tell you how, but it’s wrenching), along with his sight. Now, 14 years later, he can only begin to heal the past by reediting his adulterated film. And the fact that he can’t see is more a challenge than a curse.
Longtime Almodóvar watchers will recognize the compromised film as a retelling of Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown. This strange “remake” is both funny and sad. The scenes we see are quite amusing, but they also make us aware of how much time has passed for Almodóvar and for us. (The effect is oddly similar to seeing the Seinfeld “reunion show” on Curb Your Enthusiasm.)
Almodóvar has now turned to memory for inspiration. But he’s not nostalgic, strictly speaking. He’s still exploring, but no longer groping. He’s into the second or third draft of his ongoing masterpiece, which I’d have to count as the great film achievement of the last 30 years.
The film isn’t perfect. He now tries to cram so much story into each film that some elements get a line or two of expository dialogue, rather than the subplot they truly deserve. He seriously damaged the ending of Volver by doing just that. But when this film finally wobbles under its own narrative weight, Almodóvar rights it brilliantly, giving us a final image of ravishing melancholy.
Although his birthday isn’t for a couple more weeks, Houston rapper/burger slinger Bun B used his fourth time as the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo’s resident Black Heritage Day music curator to throw himself a Birthday Bonanza concert on Friday, March 7 — and it was an odd lineup with some awkward technical glitches.
Before the show started, tributes were given to Sylvester Turner and Sheila Jackson Lee. Then, TSU’s Ocean of Soul and Prairie View A&M’s Marching Storm bands teamed up and gave dual, thundering sets before joining forces and performing together for the announced crowd of 69,667.
After a bunch of fireworks and pyrotechnics went off a few minutes before 9:30 pm, a clip package of celebs giving Bun birthday wishes played on the screens. This package included comedians (Cedric the Entertainer, Gary Owen), rappers (Slim Thug, Paul Wall) and a predictably creepy message from wrestling legend The Undertaker. Then, Ennio Morricone’s “Man with No Name” theme started playing and Bun came out rocking a long leather coat with fringes and a cowboy hat that once again had the Monster Energy Drink logo on the front. He and his band started things off with “Get Throwed.”
Photo by Marco Torres
Bun B closed the show with Int'l Players Anthem.
Unlike his previous “Takeover” shows, the concert didn’t have a clear musical theme. For the past few weeks, Bun has gotten clowned on social media for his all-over-the-place lineup. (Facebook trolls were mocking up flyers announcing other possible artists, including Ice JJ Fish and Milli Vanilli.)
However, the lineup did give off a Black dad’s Spotify playlist kind of energy, and it did seem like Bun (soon to be 52) booked a lot of favorites from his library. First up was So So Def’s resident boy band Jagged Edge, who did a medley of their late ‘90s/early 2000s hits. After that was a surprise performance from Do or Die, a Chicago rap group who was signed to Houston's Rap-A-Lot Records back in the day. They performed their hit tune “Po Pimp,” which Bun said he often performed during sound checks. Both acts dressed Black-dad casual, like they were going to their kids’ soccer game after this.
If there was one artist people were truly anticipating, it was R&B temptress Coco Jones. Coming out in an all-white ensemble, including shiny cargo pants and a cowboy hat, she led the crowd with a couple bars of “Here We Go (Uh Oh)” before doing “Taste,” from her upcoming album Why Not More? Jones was the first of several artists who had audio problems during the show, switching mics halfway through when her voice wasn’t picking up all over the stadium.
At this point in this show, Bun B came back out in a beige waistcoat with the UGK logo bedazzled on the back, looking like a land baron on Gunsmoke. “I believe I look like a million dollars in here,” he said, before introducing surprise performer Tommy Richman. Richman, who had a show earlier that evening at White Oak Music Hall, stopped by to do his TikTok hit “Million Dollar Baby.”
Local gospel great Yolanda Adams came out next, in a white zip-up and spangly jeans, singing during an In Memoriam package of Black people who died recently (like Turner) and who’ve been dead for a while now (like DMX). During this performance, one of the background singers’ mics was louder than Adams’s, something she appeared to pick up on.
After performing a couple of her peppier gospel numbers, Adams asked Bun, “Don’t you think it’s time to bring out the slabs?” A quartet of slabs rolled up next to the stage, carrying some local rap legends, as Bun performed a couple UGK tunes. Then, Bun brought out Houston MC Don Toliver, who arrived in a red Ferrari. Once he hopped out (wearing what looked like a black leather tracksuit with fringes and a blue handkerchief around his face), he performed several songs but also struggled with microphone problems.
Next, Bun introduced another surprise performer: T.I. All dreaded up and wearing what looked like a pleather outfit, the Atlanta vet did a boisterous set, pulling out a lot of his 2000s hits and saying, “I’m the king, bitch!” every once in a while.
Keith Sweat was next, giving the right amount of old school energy as he sang hits from his New Jack Swing heyday. Sweat prematurely left the stage at one point, thinking his set was over. But when the music for “How Deep Is Your Love?” began playing, he returned. He saved face by asking the crowd, “You thought I was finished?”
An Ali Siddiq video appeared once as Bun introduced Ludacris, the final performer of the night. Just like his fellow ATL rap god T.I., Luda gave an energetic performance (in cowhide-looking shorts!). He pulled out all the classics, including “Stand Up” and “Move B***h,” before leading the entire audience in singing “Happy Birthday” to Bun. Bun closed it out as always with UGK’s “Int’l Players Anthem.”
Yeah, it was a weird night. There were audio and visual glitches, a lineup that had everything from Dirty South legends to quiet-storm mainstays to one-hit wonders to gospel singers making a joyful noise. Bun took an ambitious swing with this one, assembling a grab bag of his favorite artists for a freewheeling show that appealed to many demographics. I wouldn’t mind if he did it again — but those mics better be sorted out next time.
Setlist
Get Throwed, Bun B
Let’s Get Married (Remix), Jagged Edge
Promise, Jagged Edge
Where the Party At, Jagged Edge
Po Pimp, Do or Die
Here We Go (Uh Oh), Coco Jones
Taste, Coco Jones
ICU, Coco Jones
Million Dollar Baby, Tommy Richman
The Battle Is the Lord’s, Yolanda Adams
Church Doors (Remix), Yolanda Adams
Diamonds & Wood, Bun B
Murder, Bun B
BANDIT, Don Toliver
After Party, Don Toliver
Lemonade, Don Toliver
Rubber Band Man, T.I.
24’s, T.I.
U Don’t Know Me, T.I.
Whatever You Like, T.I.
Bring Em Out, T.I.
Live Your Life, T.I.
What You Know, T.I.
About the Money, T.I.
I Want Her, Keith Sweat
Make It Last Forever, Keith Sweat
Twisted, Keith Sweat
Nobody, Keith Sweat
How Deep Is Your Love, Keith Sweat
All I Do is Win, Ludacris
Stand Up, Ludacris
Yeah, Ludacris
How Low, Ludacris
What’s Your Fantasy, Ludacris
Move B***h, Ludacris
Int’l Players Anthem, Bun B with group