A nightclub singer named Yolanda witnesses her troubled boyfriend overdose on heroin that she has given to him, and knowing that she is going to be the prime suspect in his death, from both the nosy police officers set to investigate the case, and the violent underworld figures that he had shady dealings with, she needs to escape. Knowing what a semi-public figure she is in the community, she knows that she won’t be able to get very far, and even if she ran, she’d be caught eventually. Salvation quite literally comes to her in the form of a group of nuns who visit her one evening, with one of them, the Mother Superior, professing to be a major fan of the singer. Realizing that she may be able to hide in plain sight, Yolanda ventures off to their nunnery, where the Mother Superior and the small group of sweet and caring nuns welcome their new visitor with open arms. What Yolanda did not realize, however, is that this nunnery is far from what she thought it was. As Mother Superior boldly asserts towards the beginning of the film, “Very soon, this place will be full of murderesses, drug addicts, prostitutes, just like before” – each of these women may where the habits of religious and pious individuals, but beneath the surface, they engage in all sorts of manipulation and debauchery – hard drugs, rampant lesbianism and extortion of anyone who could possibly be of assistance to their parish are routine in this religious community, and with their mantra of humility and humiliation, these women could not be further from the God they profess to follow, and very soon they will ensnare Yolanda into their sinister games of  degeneracy.

Before he developed into the elder statesman of Spanish cinema, and one of the most revered arthouse filmmakers of his generation (to the point where his work is often cited with just his surname), Pedro Almodóvar was an audacious and daring filmmaker who pushed the limits of boundaries in a way very few were willing to, often being inspired by the transgressive work of his artistic forefathers. One of his earliest films is Dark Habits (Spanish:  Entre tinieblas), his third feature-length foray into the underbelly of human existence, and one of his funniest works, and the film that started to shift attention towards his talents as not only a tremendously entertaining visual stylist, but a masterful storyteller, able to weave together a complex but fascinating tale of debauchery, deceit and immorality in a way that is not only endlessly entertaining, but also exceptional poignant when we look beneath the sometimes outrageous content. There’s no doubt that Almodóvar hit the ground running with his filmmaking endeavours, with his skilful ability to concoct the most irreverent but heartfelt stories being present right from the outset of his now-legendary career which has established him as one of the greats, and even if Dark Habits is far more rugged and misanthropic than the director’s subsequent explorations of the human spirit, it is not any less an impressive achievement.

There are so many vivid images in this film – unsurprisingly, as Dark Habits hails from a director who has always paid very close attention to imbuing his films with a certain visual flair that is unlike anything his contemporaries were doing at the time. Yet, the moment the viewer understands this is not going to be just any ordinary “fish out of water” tale is towards the beginning of the film, where we see a nun carefully and meticulously preparing a needle of heroin, and administering it to herself, in a scene that is executed with the tranquillity and peaceful underpinnings of a moment of heavenly prayer. What follows is a barrage of moments that don’t only push the boundaries of decency – Almodóvar completely subverts them, disregarding everything quite literally held to be sacred without so much as a second thought or a concern about how it could possibly be received, and proudly flaunting his perceived disdain towards the traditions he is parodying here. Not necessarily a satire without broad strokes of loving affection, Dark Habits is a stark and brilliant commentary on religion and its structures, with the director submerging the audience deeply into a world that seems to be familiar (even if he haven’t experienced ourselves), and through blatant exaggeration and an enormous sense of irony and sarcastic vitriol to the institutions it challenges, it becomes an uncanny but brilliant example of moral satire, where corruption of the soul and of the spirit are not only accepted, they are openly condoned. Almodóvar is a director who, particularly at the outset of his career, embraced the tendency of queer filmmakers like John Waters, Andy Warhol and Kenneth Anger to question societal structures thorough pitch-dark comedy, and not to be afraid to shock audiences – those who get offended are not the target audience for a film like Dark Habits anyway.

It’s in moments of profound cultural subversion that a film like this can make the most provocative and long-lasting statements – and even if the general intention of the film was one of diverting fun and pitch-black comedy, there is some deeper challenging of the broader themes that make this more than just ninety minutes of moral turpitude. Catholicism has always been omnipotent in Almodóvar’s work, even if it isn’t very predominant in some of his films. Dark Habits is his attempt to take on the ancient structures of the church, and the mentality that surrounds it in a way that no one had before. There had been very few films at the time that seriously took on the Catholic Church, let alone through the guise of a comedy. Religion is one of the few areas that isn’t easily satirized without causing some controversy – yet, getting on the wrong side of the church has become somewhat of a badge of honour for some filmmakers, some of them even using the church’s tendency to liberally condemn certain works that are against their morals as promotional tools in order to draw attention to their films: what better way to remark that you made something noteworthy if the oldest and most influential branch of Christianity condemns it? It isn’t clear exactly what Almodóvar is trying to do with Dark Habits, but I would argue he wasn’t taking on the church as a whole – in fact, his vision of Catholicism is far more gentle than one would expect, as despite this particular nunnery being a hotbed of tightly-concealed perversion, the people within it are still genuinely caring, and do pay attention to the needs of the community – the only difference is they are not completely selfless, and their ulterior motives form the satirical core of the film.

Religion is a difficult topic to talk about when it comes to film – it ranges from inappropriate to heavy-handed, and sometimes even disastrously bad. With the exception of the biblical epics produced in previous eras, which were more filmmaking events rather than films about the power of faith, there has never been a film that looks at religion in a way that is without flaws and can please audiences at large (except for maybe Sister Act, which was another film about a nightclub singer evading the police and gangsters by hiding out in a surprisingly liberal nunnery. Coincidence, or should Almodóvar be worried?). The reason is that religion, while widespread and very omnipotent in most facets of life, even if you aren’t a believer, is a deeply personal thing – and in Dark Habits, the director demonstrates a small group of individuals united under one Catholic and apostolic church, yet finding their own individuality to exist as singular individuals with their own desires, which they funnel into other forms of expression. Some of them cook, others make clothes, some of them write sultry erotic novels, and one of them even cares for an enormous tiger that roams the halls of the church. The intention of Dark Habits seemed to be Almodóvar trying to abolish the idea of homogeneity in views of the church, as well as deconstructing the idea that those who pledge a life to religion are suddenly without nuance or idiosyncracies – through demonstrating these nuns engaged in all sorts of lurid and immodest activities, the director depicts that even below the surface of something perceived to be as pure and sacred as the Catholic Church, there are secrets. While Almodóvar does use poetic licence in making this film, utilizing a very potent form of absurdism that detaches this film from reality, his provocative methods hint at a much deeper intention to challenge the notions of religion in a meaningful way and to defy all expectations.

Dark Habits is a lot of fun. It is a film full of surprises at every turn, and it is entirely unpredictable. It takes the audience on a twisted, depraved journey that may be shocking to even the most desensitized of viewers. Yet, it never feels like anything less than a satirical masterwork – it is extravagant but never gaudy, daring but never offensive, and meaningful without being heavy-handed. Almodóvar would go on to refine his style later on and deliver masterpieces that remain the finest works of their respective eras, but its in films like Dark Habits that I am most interested, because it gives us a glimpse into the mind of the director not when he was the self-assured maestro he is revered as now, but as a scrappy, creative upstart in an industry that he sought to challenge and defy well-regarded conventions without obliterating the medium he clearly adored. Only the third film in his long and illustrious career, Dark Habits is by no means perfect – it effectively weaves together numerous different characters and gives them their own individual moments, but sometimes at the expense of a more cohesive storyline. It is also a film that could’ve been slightly more outrageous (I attribute this to the presence of Cristina Sánchez Pascual in the leading role, who is not particularly good in this film, with the exception of her third-act musical performance, which was very effective), as well as a bit more clear in the message it was trying to impart. Yet, it is in these imperfections that we find something truly special – Almodóvar succeeded in his masterful control of the satirical basis of the film and managed to effectively take on the Catholic Church and its doctrines in a way that was shocking but not without a certain respectfulness. A terrific dark comedy about saintly people doing indecent things, presented to us in a brightly coloured package and with a deeply sardonic sense of humour, it achieves exactly what it set out to do, and while that may not be for everyone, for those who can appreciate this brand of irreverent, depraved madness, Dark Habits is just about as good as it gets.