There have rarely been any artists whose work is simultaneously so distinctive yet entirely impossible to define than Pedro Almodóvar, which is perhaps why he is unquestionably one of the finest filmmakers of his generation. He tells stories that are rich and vibrant in their humanity, but navigate challenging socio-cultural concepts that draw on both the proud and profane aspects of the human condition, and regardless of whether making a film that is tinged with humour or veers towards the dramatic, the results are always extraordinary, since every one of his projects is handcrafted by his masterful directorial touch. One of his countless crowning achievements in recent years is Julieta, in which Almodóvar partially sets aside his wildly original authorial voice in favour of adapting the work of another incredible artist, the brilliant Alice Munro. Taking three of her short stories, he weaves them together to form a narrative that focuses on the titular character as she reflects on the past, starting with her life as a rambunctious young woman with aspirations of becoming an educator, following her journey as a wife and mother in the subsequent years, with particular focus being placed on the loss she encounters over time, with both her husband and daughter exiting her life for different reasons, which has forced her to spend time in a state of deep meditation, plumbing the depths of her past, hoping to find answers to the questions she has avoided asking for years. A film that is quintessentially the creation of Almodóvar, whose enchanting touch guides every moment of this fascinating character study, Julieta is an astonishing achievement, telling a story that is both heartbreaking and beautiful. Throughout this film, the director explores themes relating to motherhood, femininity and identity, which are common concepts that drive his work, but yet feel more profound than usual when filtered through the lens of this film, which is credit to his impeccable style and remarkable ability to create these vibrant, emotional odysseys that are both fascinating and shattering.

Anyone who has spent some time exploring the world as curated by Almodóvar will know that there are a few fundamental ideas that go with the process of navigating his films. Primarily, we should never assume that everything is as it seems on the surface. Secondly, every detail is essential, as there isn’t any moment in one of his films in which he places unnecessary content, and it is often these small details that we overlook – whether in the form of a character’s presence, a line of dialogue or any other seemingly inconsequential minutiae – that have the most narrative impact. Julieta is a film that employs all three principles in its continued efforts to explore certain themes, some of them being extremely simple, but rendered as astonishingly beautiful under Almodóvar’s precise and meaningful direction. This is not a film that ever feels particularly impelled to rush to get to a coherent narrative destination, the entire plot being propelled by atmosphere more than story structure, which is in turn extremely fluid, the past blurring with the present as Julieta revisits her memories in an effort to resolve personal challenges that have plagued her for years, preventing her from ever truly leading a tranquil life. It is certainly a melodrama in the style that Almodóvar has been known to make, but yet never feels even vaguely overwrought, every emotion being meaningful and tenderly placed right where it belongs in the story. The director’s ability to examine such deep and complex themes in a way that is emotionally resonant but never heavy-handed is a tremendous skill, and one that has made him a source of perpetual acclaim, since very rarely do we find filmmakers capable of such deep emotions that never use them for the sake of manipulation or coercion to a certain way of thinking. Almodóvar respects the audience as much as he does the characters, viewing us all as a homogenous entity that plays a part in his examination of a range of different subjects, which are woven into the fabric of this beautifully atmospheric character study that captures our attention in both the story and its execution, which is exactly what any seasoned viewer should expect from one of Almodóvar’s constant masterpieces, of which Julieta is one of the most distinct.

As is often the case with one of Almodóvar’s films, we have to look at all of these individual components holistically, viewing them as being part of some larger set of intentions, simply moving parts in a bigger narrative endeavour, which the director curates to create a meaningful conversation around specific subjects. Julieta is a film that focuses on the concept of memory – nearly the entire film is set within the past, which takes the form of the titular character’s recollections, which she evokes while in a state of self-reflection, examining the past in order to find a way to understand why her previously happy, promising life and upwardly mobile career were so suddenly derailed, which coincides both with the mysterious death of her husband and the sudden departure of her daughter, whose refusal to speak to her mother causes Julieta immense pain. Throughout the film, we see the characters undergoing the challenging but important process of excavating the past, revisiting the most painful sites of their memory in the hopes of unearthing some hidden detail that they had previously overlooked, or reconfiguring what they thought to be the truth into something else, all in anticipation of understanding why their lives have become so unwieldy and sad. The film evokes very difficult conversations, and ultimately starts to make its message clear: the past is difficult to accept, and reality is not always something that we want to acknowledge, but hiding these memories away and never critically engaging with them can only amplify the ambiguities and make it all the more difficult to understand the trajectory of our lives. Moreover, holding onto the past can also be a burden, since it refuses to allow us to move forward, and we can remain in a state of existential limbo if we don’t undergo the process of simply allowing it to dissipate into the ether. The character of Julieta takes a long time to learn these lessons, but the film is extremely generous in how it depicts her journey, which acts as the foundation for this incredibly beautiful character study that represents some of Almodóvar’s most compassionate and forthright human storytelling.

In order to tackle some of this remarkably complex material, Almodóvar once again employs an incredibly nuanced perspective on characters, which here takes the form of a two-pronged approach in terms of exploring the protagonist’s mental state in comparison to her reflections on the past. Throughout Julieta, we are privy to two versions of the character, at different stages of her life, which is part of the film’s process of oscillating between the past and present in creative and invigorating ways. Almodóvar casts two actors, in order to clearly delineate between the periods (rather than having one person play Julieta across two decades of her life, which is not unheard of, but also could be viewed as tenuous and remove some of the more nuanced imagery that comes with watching the character mature, both physically and psychologically), and who set the foundation for the film. Emma Suárez and Adriana Ugarte play Julieta at the different stages of her life, and both are fantastic. Interestingly, neither one of them is part of the regular stable of collaborators, fondly referred to as the Chicas Almodóvar (although we do have the likes of Pilar Castro and Rossy de Palma in supporting roles, the latter giving one of her very best performances in one of the director’s films), which is a fascinating decision, since these are actors with whom he had never previously worked, but yet still fit so perfectly into his world, adapting their skills to match his style, while he directs around their very distinct approach to interpreting these characters. Neither Suárez nor Ugarte upstages the other, with the power of their performances coming in how they are truly cohesive, two different actors united in playing the same character in such a way that it never feels divided. This is the sign of a truly extraordinary collaboration between the director and his performers, who work together to not only create a character that is well-constructed, but driven by the small details. The transitions between Suárez and Ugarte are beautiful and poetic, and while it is technically just two actors switching between the role at different periods throughout the film, Almodóvar makes it striking and brilliant, with even such a simple technique being astonishingly beautiful under his assured direction.

Julieta is one of Almodóvar’s most thrilling films, a genre-blurring, existentially-profound character study that takes place simultaneously in the past and present, which the director views as not being linear, but rather an interweaving, cyclical jumble of memories and regrets simmering within the characters that populate the film. It is the work of a true master, who lays out a very simple set of thematic concepts, which are intricately woven together in the creation of this compelling and heartbreaking story. The entire film can be condensed into a single concept in terms of looking at Julieta’s metaphysical journey into the past: is she looking for the answers to the questions she has been too reluctant to ask, or is she seeking forgiveness for her past transgressions, or what those around her view as lapses in judgement? As we would expect, Almodóvar is not willing to give us the answers immediately, and instead makes us work for them, which is all part of the experience of seeing his films, which are as much about the specific stories being told as they are about the viewer taking an active role as observers that peer voyeuristically into the lives of his characters, going on these emotional and psychological journeys alongside them. As is often the case with his work, Almodóvar is not simply exploring a single story, but instead using this narrative as an opportunity to examine a range of different themes, some of them more abstract than others, but which ultimately serve to convey a sense of social and cultural complexity that makes every one of his films beautifully distinct and multilayered portraits of contemporary life, and the relationship it has with the past. Detailed and striking, emotionally profound and filled to the brim with a quiet intensity, Julieta is just one of many masterful philosophical excursions on which we accompany the director as he looks both inward and to the exterior for answers to some of life’s most peculiar questions – and while it can sometimes be extremely complex, the fluidity with which he takes on this material is absolutely incredible, and helps in crafting the dense but beautiful prose that inspired this story, and configuring it into a masterful work of profound philosophical pondering.