The Flower of My Secret
At some point between making "Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown" and "Kika," Spanish director Pedro Almodovar must have decided that being unconventional and winning awards and causing controversy just wasn't all it was cut out to be. Better to be like every other two-bit director and make dull, plodding films dealing with themes and ideas that have been bandied about since the dawn of humankind.
The first half-hour consists of stupid metaphors that we're supposed to absorb until Almodovar feels we're ready for the main story. The main story turns out to be the simplistic and predictable tale of a romance novelist, Leo (Marisa Paredes), whose fictional love life is a lot more exciting than her real one.
Initially, the metaphors involve a psychology class where they role play a mother unable to cope with the brain death of her son. This is a metaphor for Leo's inability to recognize that her husband, Paco (Imanol Arias) doesn't love her anymore and that their marriage is dead.
The other metaphor has Leo struggling to remove a pair of boots that are too tight. This could be a simple statement about Leo's poor shopping skills. More likely though, it represents the seven bucks we just spent to be trapped in the theater for two hours.
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