The Last Dream
Pedro Almodovar, Harvill Secker, £16.99

PEDRO ALMODOVAR is a Spanish film-maker known for his vibrant, emotionally charged films that often explore themes of identity, sexuality, family, societal taboos and human relationships. 

Coming from the deeply religious and bare landscape of Castilla la Mancha to the vibrant capital of Madrid in the throes of la movida, a counter-cultural movement following the death of Spain’s dictator Franco in 1975, Almodovar is himself a mixture of the various Spanish cultures.

In his work he breaks mainstream stereotypes of Spaniards, often with images and realities that the country’s conservatives would rather forget.

And why is that? 

Principally because he has the ability as a talented storyteller, both in his film and in his book, to show an alternative version of Spain that doesn’t often get shown in the popular media across the world. There, it’s either deeply religious and reactionary or obscure fiestas that foreigners can go and experience. Almodovar on the other hand shows that is multicultural in the Iberian peninsula sense of the word. 

Spain is made up of various regional cultures that are often overlooked for either a Madrid-centric version of Spain or for the Costa del Sol. Best of all, Almodovar shows this mixing pot of cultures in the very city, Madrid, that tries to maintain a cultural hegemonic status within the country even after the demise of its Catholic-centred dictatorship. It’s often said that Madrid is another of Almodovar’s women, one of the strong females in his films that challenge the heavily patriarchal image of traditional Spain.

His early films mirrored themes from la movida which included homosexuality, contraceptives being widely available, drug use and artistic freedoms and experimentations free from the confines of censorship. He did this by using bold colour, conflicted characters, with a method of storytelling that includes a mixture of melodrama, comedy and social commentary often juxtaposing colliding spheres of Spanish life. 

In his latest collection of short stories and biographical sketches we see a similar pattern where a glamorous prostitute is seen against the backdrop of a religious school to explore the theme of clerical paedophilia. He also plays with genres such as the often forgotten genre of Spanish gothic literature. Of course, he does this the only way he knows how, with an Almodovian flair. 

His films, such as All About My Mother and Talk to Her, are personal yet universal in their exploration of very human themes. The same is also true for the autobiographical sketches in this book, whether reflecting on his mother’s death or relationships. Another theme that stands out in this book that is also prominent in every single one of his films are strong female characters, avoiding the typical stereotypes of Spanish women.

With its intriguing mix of short stories and personal sketches the book is more interesting than the average autobiography. Yet, while reading it, you do remember that this is written by a film director writing and not a novelist. Personally I would love to see these stories retold as a television series, especially his retelling of the tale of Queen Joanna of Castile. 

If you have never seen one of his films you may struggle to appreciate the vision that he is trying to deliver, but if you have had the pleasure of seeing Revolver or Parallel Mothers then there is much to enjoy in this book.