There are some artists who inspire excitement and endless anticipation when they announce a new project, regardless of what it may be. Pedro Almodóvar has been the gold standard for European filmmaking (and essentially the entire arthouse as a whole) for most of his career, which reached a crescendo in the 1990s, when he was finally considered more than a wildly talented provocateur, and took his place as one of the finest filmmakers of his generation, an immediate cinematic iconoclast with one of the most unique and fascinating voices in contemporary filmmaking. The quality that has not only put Almodóvar in that position, but allowed him to maintain this reputation, is his willingness to experiment. While he does have a distinct style, and has certainly been more comfortable with different methods of filmmaking throughout his career, it’s his ability to try new ways of storytelling that has allowed him to continuously flourish as a voice of an entire generation of filmmakers, which he has been successfully doing for over four decades now, and which is the purpose of this preamble. Considering how he is a filmmaker who is constantly pushing his methods of storytelling, it was only a matter of time before he made his inevitable English-language debut, which he has been pursuing for quite a while (even as far back as the early 1990s, when he was apparently courted to helm Sister Act, as well as films such as Brokeback Mountain and The Paperboy) – and after several years of defining Spanish-language cinema, he has managed to finally take the leap into the inevitable, in the form of his adaptation of Jean Cocteau’s The Human Voice, a brief but unforgettable story of isolation in the modern world. This is perhaps not the kind of film that we’d hope Almodóvar would produce as his first foray into the English language, but it is far from a disappointment, since not only is it a wildly entertaining work, but also one that showcases how, even when working in another language, or in a format that he hasn’t touched on in decades, he can still string together a fascinating portrait of the human condition, albeit in a much smaller format, which may not be ideal for someone who inspires as much passion as he does, but is certainly not a waste of time or talent.

Make no mistake, as interesting as The Human Voice may be, Almodóvar is undeniably working in a minor key, and isn’t coming close to reaching the impossible heights that we normally associate with his work. Not a stranger to short-subject filmmaking (spending many years early in his career directing short films), but someone who normally works better with a longer running time that allows him to develop his themes, this film was something of a risk for Almodóvar, especially in how he set out to adapt something that is restricted stage-bound, rather than being inherently cinematic. This doesn’t mean he doesn’t try, since each frame of this film is absolutely stunning, brimming with the vivid colours and eccentric production design that has always been a hallmark of the director’s films – and in many ways, this film is worth seeing purely because of how absolutely stunning it is, Almodóvar’s eye for detail and penchant for meaningful flair being massively important to our experience with this piece. The original play is a monologue in which an unnamed protagonist speaks on the phone with her now ex-lover, who she is trying to win back through her impassioned plea for him (or her) to return – there wasn’t much that the director could do without expanding this world unnecessarily, which makes the final product, as paper-thin as its premise may be, perfectly acceptable, if we enter into the film with the right mindset. Like all notable filmmakers, Almodóvar is playfully manipulating the medium he has grown to adore – deconstructing the format of the romantic melodrama, and rebuilding it in a way that seems inherently different from what we normally see produced in cinema (where more conventional films would prefer not to end without some kind of resolution – this film does have a clear ending, but not one that is all that traditional in the sense of being open for interpretation), was a worthwhile experiment. Whether this is enough to justify the time and effort that went into its creation is up to the individual viewer, and what they expect from a film like The Human Voice, which can evoke a variety of responses by virtue of its unconventional nature.

Beyond the gorgeous production design that we’ve come to expect from Almodóvar, another reason to seek out The Human Voice is found in how this is the long-awaited collaboration between the director and Tilda Swinton, an actress who has attained a similar level of arthouse credibility due to her chameleonic talents and tendency to choose artistically-resonant films. Yet, despite both being mainstays of a certain level of pedigree film, and stating their undying admiration for one another throughout the years, the fact that their paths finally crossed in a way that allowed them to work together is still quite incredible. Perhaps this isn’t the kind of collaboration that most of us wanted – at only 30 minutes, it seems like a lost opportunity to see one of the finest actresses of her generation under the guidance of an artist who may be the finest director of actresses working today. However, taken for what it is, we are at least witness to a small sample of what this collision of talents would look like – and while she may not be stretching herself too far out of her comfort zone, Swinton once again proves what a gifted actress she is, taking on the sole role (unless we count Dash the Dog, which I am inclined to do) in this fascinating portrait of the aftermath of a relationship, and how even the most civil of separations can result in feelings of inadequacy and despair. It’s an impressive piece of acting that may not be much of a departure for the actress, but Swinton does very well with the material, playing off the intricacies of the reason for the separation, which are never made explicitly clear, but we can still get some understanding based on the turmoil present in the performance. If anything, The Human Voice inspires a resounding plea for Almodóvar to cast Swinton in a future project, since they play off each other well and are capable of inciting pure magic from the simplest of premises, which is the sign of a massively successful director-actor collaboration, and only makes the prospect of another project between them all the more enticing.

It would be foolish to suggest that The Human Voice is a perfect film, and it has a few problems that keep it from achieving greatness, situating it more at the level of a fascinating novelty than a fully-formed masterpiece, which is essentially what Almodóvar has been peddling quite regularly for the past two decades of his career. Perhaps Cocteau’s play wasn’t the right starting-point, since it is limiting, even for someone who has shown himself adept at weaving some magnificent yarns out of the most paltry material. It’s clear that this story is on-brand for the director – after all, it centres on a complex protagonist working through her emotions, set to the backdrop of a vaguely carnivalesque world, which only grows more grotesque as she sinks into what appears to be a nervous breakdown. We’ve seen the director cover similar stories before, so this wasn’t an enormous departure in that regard. The main obstacle was that the film never appears to be all that interested in expanding on the source material – even the disclaimer that it was freely adapted from the play rings as somewhat false when we realize how the artistic liberties taken had to do more with the cinematic spectacle than it did develop the storyline, which was fertile ground for some fascinating insights into the human condition. However, it’s difficult to blame Almodóvar for not deviating too far – had we been privy to some explanation of the circumstances surrounding the separation, or seen the person on the other side of the telephone, the mystique would immediately disappear. The ideal version of this story would be one that keeps with the spirit of unpacking this enigmatic protagonist, while not eroding the mystery surrounding her. However, even at its most puzzling, The Human Voice is still worth watching, and at only 30 minutes, it is the perfect length for this intimate exploration of a woman in the midst of an existential crisis, saying just enough to leave an impression, but departing long before overstaying its welcome.

Drawing from the melodramas that inspired Almodóvar to become a director, and infused with a distinct arthouse sensibility that only as seasoned a veteran as he could possibly do, The Human Voice is a remarkably interesting film, albeit one that may not always deliver on its promise of being a stunning spectacle that launches itself into the heart of the human condition. A film that perhaps exists better in theory than it does in execution, not because the eventual result is anything less than an enthralling, gripping series of unforgettable moments, but because it hints at the lost opportunity to see something more substantial, since the collaboration between Almodóvar and Swinton is one that should’ve produced an absolute masterpiece, rather than a compelling but minor work for both of them. It doesn’t invalidate that this is still a very artistically profound piece, and one that genuinely works its way to making some meaningful statements on the nature of loneliness and alienation from the outside world. However, even when it isn’t resounding as loudly as it should, The Human Voice is still an exceptional piece of cinema, and proof that even the smallest productions can carry significant weight when executed with style and precision. Its imperfections aren’t enough to distract from the aching beauty, and ultimately, we’re drawn to the intricate manner in which Almodóvar and Swinton weave together the portrait of a woman who, in her own words, has become fashionable again due to embodying “the mixture of madness and melancholy” that makes her such a profoundly interesting individual, and the film around her a riveting portrayal of her gradual descent into a new chapter in a life we may not have much knowledge on, but in which we still feel incredibly invested, as a result of the stunning filmmaking and incredibly precise control of tone and content at which Almodóvar once again proves to be remarkably gifted.