Reżyseria:
Pedro AlmodóvarScenariusz:
Pedro AlmodóvarZdjęcia:
José Luis AlcaineMuzyka:
Alberto IglesiasObsada:
Penélope Cruz, Milena Smit, Israel Elejalde, Aitana Sánchez-Gijón, Rossy de Palma, Julieta Serrano, Carmen Flores, Ainhoa Santamaría, Adelfa Calvo (więcej)VOD (1)
Opisy(1)
Bohaterki filmu, Janis i Ana, spotykają się na oddziale położniczym. Ta pierwsza jest dojrzałą kobietą, ta druga ledwie przestała być nastolatką. Obie są singielkami, obie czeka samodzielne macierzyństwo. Janis wie, że sobie poradzi, Ana jest pełna obaw. Wydaje się, że ich ścieżki ledwie się przetną, tymczasem więź, która je połączy, okaże się mocna jak pępowina. Jak to u Almodóvara bywa: zbieg okoliczności może stać się przeznaczeniem, a rodzina z wyboru tą, która zaoferuje bezwarunkową akceptację i miłość. (Gutek Film)
(więcej)Recenzje (2)
In his latest film, Parallel Mothers, Pedro Almodóvar explores serious themes such as the switching of two newborn girls in the maternity ward and the sudden death of one of them. The supporting story of motherhood is then not very skillfully woven into the events surrounding the uncovering and exhumation of a mass grave dating back to the Spanish Civil War. However, the gradual unraveling of the whole tangle is not nearly as thrilling and emotional as I would have expected, given the strong theme. It leaves me cold. (60%)
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I saw a rip of this film with the Portuguese dubbing somewhere online, and I'm starting to get the feeling that it was dropped in there on purpose like that, because this is such an unbelievable soap opera that I was embarrassed for myself while watching it. It went as far as checking to see if I had the right film on, and during one scene (Arthur's visit with a bouquet of roses and bows in the background) I waited with bated breath for the scene to drop like a dream or the protagonist's naive fantasy. From the middle of the film on, all that kept my attention was my hatred for him and my fabled maliciousness. But I come out the winner when I end up giggling at two hours of horribly lit mid-shots where the only thing missing is Petr Rychlý in a white coat, or filmmakers who clearly didn't give a damn, lost their sense of the most basic film language, and yet are cheerfully shopping it around to prestigious festivals. Really, put yourself out of your misery.
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