There aren’t too many artists who possess the gall and audacity to go by a single name and still be entirely recognizable, and respected almost entirely on the merit associated with such a mononym. It suggests an overt confidence that can sometimes be mistaken for arrogance on some occasions – yet, when settling into a film, and the words “un film de Almodóvar” appear on our screen, we know exactly why such a phrase has become shorthand for quality, prestige and, quite frankly, undeniably brilliance. Pedro Almodóvar is inarguably one of our greatest living artists, a man who has dedicated his life to writing and directing a number of impressive works that have shattered boundaries, told unique stories and proven to be something entirely unexpected in many instances, even for those who consider themselves seasoned veterans of the director’s work. All of these are present in All About My Mother (Spanish: Todo sobre mi madre), which is often considered the director’s magnum opus, the work that not only defines him as a filmmaking, but elevated him to worldwide acclaim, putting him at the forefront of not only European cinema (where he still reigns supreme, over four decades since his first entries into the medium), but as an artist who has been celebrated and revered on a global scale. All About My Mother is an incredible film, a complex and beautifully intricate character study that touches on deep themes, relating to identity, motherhood and queerness, all of which are subjects that Almodóvar has frequently explored, although rarely with as much spirited dedication and earnest detail as can be found here. In no uncertain terms, this film is an absolute masterpiece, serving as one of the greatest pieces of cinema ever produced, and a well-regarded cultural phenomenon that is as bitingly brilliant today as it was when it was first released nearly a quarter of a century ago.

Revisiting any film after a considerable amount of time is an experience well worth undertaking, especially for those that hold a special place in the viewer’s heart. This recent excursion back into the world of Manuela Echevarria and her coterie of peculiar friends and eccentric colleagues is one that I was eager to take – and it is almost as if I was witnessing All About My Mother through an entirely new pair of eyes. Over a decade of new experiences and unexpected challenges radically shifted the perspective with which one would approach this film, and while there was never any doubt that this film was a masterpiece, it was only this recent viewing that confirmed how truly unimpeachable it is. These films tend to age better with time, and considering how open-ended the narrative is in terms of the themes it explores (which are never entirely bound by a particular time or place, one of the more interesting qualities of the film), it’s easy for any viewer to latch onto a particular aspect of the story, using our own interpretation to engage with the material the director is presenting to us. There’s a universality to the general narrative, and it’s our responsibility to fill in the smaller details with our own understanding of the characters and their individual journeys, making a film like All About My Mother an incredibly engaging and interesting work that transcends a particular milieu, but still comes about as a singular work defined by the director’s steadfast commitment to exploring the world through the eyes of characters that embody his own internal curiosities and existential quandaries – and as one of the director’s most personal works, this film manages to say a great deal about some of the most unexpected subjects, some of which may even take those well-versed with the director’s very provocative style by surprise. There are many reasons why All About My Mother is seen as his best work, with his earnest approach to the storytelling process being one of the most captivating.

In this regard, we can use All About My Mother as a way of reflecting the director’s unique and peculiar way of approaching his stories. As the inscription at the end of the film states, this story came about as a way of Almodóvar paying tribute to the various “mothers” that existed in his life – whether the own maternal figures involved in his upbringing, or the actors that played mothers, whether directly or metaphorically. Despite being a true original, Almodóvar is never afraid to make his inspiration known – and part of the delight in watching his films is trying to spot the various works that influenced their creation. All About My Mother draws much of its cultural criticism from the likes of All About Eve (from where the title is derived), and openly references A Streetcar Named Desire (a stage production of which is a central plot point), as well as a recreation of the major conflict in Opening Night, which sets off the film’s main narrative, and is the concept to which the director is constantly returning. Only someone like Almodóvar would be able to liberally borrow whole segments from other works, and repurpose them to fit into his narrative. Part of this comes from the director’s very clear reverence for the artists that come before him – he has frequently acknowledged that without the work of countless creative minds that came before him, he would not have been able to have reached the artistic heights that he is now celebrated for having achieved. However, its Almodóvar’s skilful ability to not directly extract these elements, but rather take these texts and address their underlying themes through his own provocative ideas that give them new meaning – prior to this film, who would’ve thought to juxtapose Bette Davis’ iconic critique of autograph hunters in the Mankiewicz film, with a recreation of an earnest young fan being killed after seeking out his idol, taken from Cassavetes’ masterpiece? Taking segments of existing work and filtering them through a new perspective leads to some fascinating, insightful commentary that adds entirely new meanings to cherished works, and aids in defining All About My Mother as a multilayered masterpiece.

In looking at the reasons behind Almodóvar’s success as a filmmaker, we have to also acknowledge that his vision has often been shared amongst a group of actresses who have become a part of his artistic tapestry, many of them orbiting his career and frequently collaborating with him over the years. All About My Mother features some of the most iconic “Chicas Almodóvar”, with Cecilia Roth playing the central role of Manuela, a middle-aged woman who (after the tragic death of her son) is undergoing a physical and psychological journey into the past, forced to revisit some uncomfortable locations, and the memories associated with them, most of which she’d prefer to have forgotten. Roth is absolutely incredible, playing Manuela with a blend of pathos and good-natured humour, finding the humanity in a woman that is on the verge of a complete breakdown (and not the kind that the director made an entire film about). She is joined by some tremendous actors, all of whom are delivering stunning performances – Marisa Paredes is exceptional as the grande dame of theatre who is indirectly responsible for Manuela’s son’s demise, while Antonia San Juan is the heart and soul of the film, playing a transgender sex worker who is revealed to contain multitudes, something that many would not assume based on a cursory glance. A very young Penélope Cruz also has a small but pivotal role as the young nun who finds herself at the centre of a scandal when she falls pregnant with the son of an HIV-positive friend, who also happens to be Manuela’s ex-lover. Each one of the women at the heart of All About My Mother are excellent, and help the director pay tribute to the maternal figures that defined his younger years. There is nuance in every one of these performances, none of them standing out more than the other – it’s a communal effort from an excellent ensemble that manages to work through the more abstract themes to provide Almodóvar’s stunning script with genuine heart.

As film aficionados, we are used to praising Almodóvar for a number of reasons – his irreverent humour and heartfelt stories (both of which are almost uniformly delivered through his iconic, colourful style), as well as his ability to bring out the best in his actors. What many don’t realize, even those who consider themselves seasoned veterans of the director’s work, is how emotionally deep these films tend to run. All About My Mother is not in any way autobiographical, or at least not to the extent where it would be considered structured after the director’s own life (which was certainly just as fascinating as some of his more overtly detailed films have tended to portray, in particular Pain & Glory), rather serving as a consistently provocative series of curiosities manifesting as plot details in the lives of his characters, each one of them representing a different side of the director’s artistic and psychological state. Yet, it still somehow feels so personal – whether it is the theme of motherhood, or the very outward questioning of issues relating to sexuality (and its association with one’s identity, especially for those who are still young and impressionable), there is clearly some degree of intimate connection between the director and this story. However, despite the director’s penchant for melodrama (which is made abundantly clear throughout this film), All About My Mother is remarkably free of heavy-handed situations. Even when it is as its most over-the-top, it never feels excessive in a way that is gauche or inappropriate. Every frame is well-selected, and Almodóvar executes this story with the most beautiful, precise poeticism that the viewer is likely to see – the bursts of colour present in the visual landscape complement the intimate psychological provocations, and turn All About My Mother into an extraordinarily layered, complex experience, filled to the brim with a romanticism and eerily profound compassion that has always been one of the director’s signature qualities, both in terms of the stories he told, and the methods he undertook to tell them.

All About My Mother is one of the few films that I consider to be a uniting masterwork – I’ve yet to encounter someone who didn’t at least enormously respect it, with its status as not only the director’s personal best, but one of the most important and influential films of its era being exceptionally well-earned. This isn’t even mentioning the legions of supporters who consider this to be almost inarguably one of the greatest films ever made. Almodóvar is both an absolute genius, and someone whose output has always reflected an impeccable work ethic, one that is defined by the director’s incredible attentiveness to both the broad strokes and intimate details that make up a film, and elevate it beyond just a few images projected at the viewer. There’s meaning underpinning every frame of this film, and Almodóvar ensures that we are consistently accompanied on this deeply profound, and often very funny, journey into one particular side of Spanish society, one that the director perceived from afar, forming his own observations into this wry, multilayered masterpiece that is filled to the brim with humour and heart in equal measure. We voyage through this world, constantly questioning and pulling apart the layers, while the director guides us through these scenarios, giving us scandalous and scintillating details alongside the more ethereal, internal conversations evoked by the narrative. All About My Mother remains one of the most essential works produced in the last few decades, not only for the story it tells, but also the manner in which it tells it, which makes an enormous difference, and easily qualifies this as a vital work of art that changed cinema, and the stories contained with, almost entirely on its own, the impact it has made on arthouse film being indelible and of historical resonance.