Talk to Her (Hable con Ella) (2002)

Outside Pittsburgh, PA February 14, 2007 (Valentines Day):

Exploring the rusted insides of the abandoned Ohio & Eastern plywood manufacturing plant, Frank pauses outside the loading dock supervisor’s office to collapse unto an old pile of sawdust and weep. Rats and tetanus be damned. He weeps for all the out-of-work factory employees left out in the cold when O&E abruptly closed its doors---in February of 1997 (if the remaining wall-calendars were any indication). Presumably they’d all since found work elsewhere, probably in the city-proper; there were plenty of steel mills and plants there.

Frank also weeps because with his education and experience, doing industrial research on a freelance basis was not exactly where he wanted to be at this point in his life. He wanted benefits, a 401K, a house and a picket fence, an adoring wife and 2.5 kids. The usual things.

Frank weeps because it is February 14th, Valentine’s Day, not to mention, his birthday. And for another in a 30-odd year streak he was alone.

And, alone there in that rusted out shell of a building, his wails echoing off the decaying sheet metal, he weeps because in 30-odd years he had not only never had a Valentine, but also because he had never, really affected anything, anyone. Not really.

The crazy ones had a way of forgetting you somehow once you left the room, like Frank’s cats did when he left the apartment. All the rest were what they were calling “fag hags” nowadays. They also had a way of forgetting you. Forgetting you were a straight guy at least. But eventually somehow, sometime, amid all the comforting, hand holding, they’d be reminded that you were straight---usually when getting an erection poking them in the ear when attempting to watch an Audrey Tatou (Amelie; Jeunet 2001) movie with their head in your lap. When they figured out you were a man, it was over. These types think all men are severely flawed. Therefore, when choosing between damaged goods, you might as well pick the one with the least cosmetic damage, i.e. the handsome ones.

Well, there was one girl, one of the crazy ones, he had affected but she was a Groundhog’s Day date, and things didn’t last 'til mid-month. And Frank didn’t care to remember her. It was his one true regret.

Frank had been a brash young archaeologist, swaggering, a muscular, hole-digging physique shimmied over a Baudelaire attitude, barking orders at the undergrads, one of which was Gypsy, girlfriend of the local campus bully. Tall, red-head with a body that didn’t quit, a Rubber Soul (Beatles 1965) T-shirt and a copy of The Phantom Tollbooth (Juster 1961) under her arm. She followed him home one day. Well to the speakeasy, he called home, anyhow…Frank was not completely surprised because the bully had been by the bar, called The Rusty Trowel, the day previous. He had asked Frank to give him some small “airline”-sized bottles of Dewars he had left over from the Christmas party. He was afraid he’d loose Gypsy if he didn’t get her drunk and deflower her. Frank acquiesced. The bully didn’t deserve her. But who did? Nigh on his 21st birthday, Frank already knew he was destined to be alone.

Frank also wept a bit for the characters in Pedro Almodóvar’s Talk to Her (2002). It is included in the new boxed set “Viva Pedro - Pedro Almodovar Classics Collection” available from Sony Pictures on January 30, 2007. Frank had watched it in on his laptop in the dingy Super 8 he had stayed in the night before, somewhere near Harper’s Ferry. The collection also includes Bad Education, All About My Mother, Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown, Live Flesh, Flower of My Secret, Matador and Law of Desire. The $87.99 Amazon.com asking price is not bad for such a pack of good films.

Talk to Her, however, is a personal favorite Almodóvar film for Frank. It centers on two men Benigno and Marco, whose loves are both in comas. Marco meets male nurse Benigno (surely not accidentally named!) when his bullfighter girlfriend is gored by a bull. Benigno has gotten work overseeing a comatose young dancer with whom he is infatuated. His advice to Marco is the title of the film.

The film is beautifully shot, particularly in Almodóvar’s attention to the beauty in the human form. The acting is also above par, especially Javier Cámara’s touching portrayal of Benigno. In a typical American/Hollywood pic, this character would have been played as an unlikable creep from the beginning, like Norman Bates (Anthony Perkins, in Psycho; Hitchcock 1960) or Crispin Glover (Ew!) (Back to the Future; Zemeckis 1985). Here, instead we are allowed to like the character, even though he is obsessed with the dancer Alicia. He is a tubby, momma’s boy who is hopelessly in love with an unattainable girl. We can all relate on some level if allowed. And we can remember this and still care for Benigno as Marco does even as things break apart. (No spoilers, here.)

Perhaps, Frank thinks, if a good enough actor plays Him maybe Frank can come out more likeable in his own bio-pic.

Perhaps, not.

…anyway, Gypsy wouldn’t drink her bully’s Dewars. But following Frank home, she does accept to split a Genny Cream Ale with him. Her first drink. A crappily satisfying beer in a semi-dirty glass. Frank, of course, made no move to deflower her, but felt an evil glee nonetheless to get the one-up on her bully BF.

But she and Frank’s whirlwind romance culminating in a romantic Groundhog’s Day in Punxsutawney didn’t withstand the drinking and she was back with bully by February 14. She and bully’s insane abusive relationship ran for some time after.

What Frank didn’t know at the time was the booze didn’t do well with her Lithium prescription. He later found out that she was not just one of the crazy ones. She was certified. And Frank had helped further her down a bad road. Reports he hears on her now and then are not promising.

So there, in the sawdust and the rats, Frank weeps for Gypsy most of all.