Got all that? No matter. Though Almodóvar takes ten sheets of press-kit paper to summarize and explicate the film, he still leaves out some details, none of which are terribly important. For all its narrative incident, related through a flurry of loosely motivated flashbacks and -forwards, Broken Embraces goes disarmingly light on cause and effect. Call it a labyrinth of passion. Harry's production manager, Judit (Blanca Portillo), silently carries a torch for him; her DJ son Diego (Tamar Novas) lands in a coma by accidentally mixing Ecstasy and GHB; Rossellini's Voyage to Italy is playing on TV while Mateo and Lena are on vacation themselves — this is the shaggiest of Almodóvar's movies, the most enamored of storytelling for its own sake, since 1984's enjoyably baffling What Have I Done to Deserve This? Many critics have responded negatively after festival screenings, docking the erstwhile master of candy-colored mise-en-scène for leaning too heavily on dialogue — but Almodóvar's talk-to-me approach here seems perfectly suited to his protagonist's loss of vision, if not to his own.
Blatantly cruddy by Almodóvar standards, the first shot of Broken Embraces is a brown-tinged peek through the kind of video camera used on a film set to deliver instant playback of scenes. What it shows is a group of actors, including Cruz's Lena, getting ready for a take; what it represents is an old-school celluloidist's fear of DV. Pushing 60, Almodóvar seems aware of both bodily and aesthetic fragility as never before; some of the bloom has faded even from his rosier images, which gives Broken Embraces an extra dimension of melodrama despite the director's bid to hang loose in his "old" age.
Fossilized Ernesto, plotting revenge from behind the scenes, conspires to rearrange Suitcases and Lena both. Is it too late for another of Almodóvar's miraculously happy endings? As the power of cinema brings a Broken character back from the dead, some of what's been out of order fits back together — not least in the editing room. Maybe Almodóvar — blindly optimistic, confident enough to coast — has still got it after all.