Bitter Christmas
Pedro Almodóvar plays with the filmmaking process in a personal and playful tragi-comedy.
Bárbara Lennie
Image courtesy of Curzon Film Distributors.
by MANSEL STIMPSON
Following his diversion into English language cinema with the intriguing and brilliantly acted The Room Next Door (2024), Pedro Almodóvar is now back on home ground in more senses than one. Not only is this a subtitled Spanish work set in Madrid but it echoes 2019's highly acclaimed Pain and Glory in being a film which invites the viewer to see it as a work in which Almodóvar is referencing himself. In that earlier piece Antonio Banderas gave a brilliant performance as an aging gay film director who, despite differences, in many ways seemed to reflect Almodóvar, his situation late in his career and his anxiety over getting elderly.
Now in Bitter Christmas that same device is not just echoed but doubled since two characters in it, both of whom are filmmakers, are used to illustrate issues close to Almodóvar’s own concerns. One is Elsa (Bárbara Lennie) who in scenes set in 2004 is presented as a film director currently involved in making commercials but hoping to find material for a third feature even though her two earlier efforts have attained at best a certain cult status. The other director, living in Madrid today, is Raúl Rossetti (Leonardo Sbaraglia) seen at work on a new screenplay and regretting the fact that his loyal assistant, Mónica (Aitana Sánchez-Gijón), is leaving after twenty years. She is departing in order to look after the woman who, now unwell, had once been her girlfriend. Raúl may be the obvious alter ego for Almodóvar himself since he is not just a man but a gay man at that. But, in fact, Elsa can be viewed in that light too being a writer/director who is portrayed as somebody who has always put her work first. In addition she is seen as ready to view the experiences of her friends and acquaintances as something that can be purloined and used, however transformed, into material for her art.
Initially one might assume that Bitter Christmas is a work consisting of two somewhat parallel stories that run side-by-side. But, in the event, intercut shots of Raúl writing which are inserted into the footage about Elsa hint at what is soon confirmed: Elsa's story may be something which we see unfold on screen but it is in fact what Raúl is writing in his screenplay. It's an unusual concept but Almodóvar's own screenplay has a sure touch that prevents it from becoming confusing.
This means that we get a clear picture of the fictional Elsa and of her boyfriend Bonifacio (Patrick Criado) and of the way in which she takes note of the situation of two friends in particular when seeking a theme for her next movie. First, there's Patricia (Victoria Luengo) whom she invites to join her on a shared trip to Lanzarote along also with Patricia's young son, Lorenzo (Nico Martin). Patricia is in distress due to suspecting that her husband while on a trip abroad has become involved with another woman. Aware of this situation, Elsa can see the dramatic potential in it especially if Patricia were to opt for divorce and freedom. In the event Patricia dislikes the way in which during their time together Elsa seems to be prompting her to take that very decision. Consequently, she leaves the island. Elsa then asks another friend to be her replacement guest, this being Natalia (Milena Smit). She is grieving the death of her young son in an accident and how that situation might play out is another possible theme for Elsa’s screenplay.
The way in which all this is presented is certainly such as to make this a characteristic Almodóvar work right down to the pleasing wide screen images of Pau Esteve Birba, the colourful production design by Antxon Gómez and the music score from Alberto Iglesias. Especially in the earlier stages the film moves with a confidence and ease that reflect Almodóvar’s vast experience. However, as the film proceeds there are moments when it starts to feel a bit stretched out. Its length (111 minutes) may be relevant here but it is probably mainly due to the fact that, while it plays more as drama than as satire, it is lighter in tone than Pain and Glory was. It lacks the intensity of the earlier film and some of the characterisations are rendered without much depth. That may not matter much when it comes to such subsidiary figures as Bonifacio and Raúl’s boyfriend Santi (Quim Gutiérrez). But, when one recalls what Banderas achieved as the filmmaker’s alter ego in Pain and Glory, it serves to underline the fact that this screenplay creates in Raúl a much less involving stand-in for Almodóvar. In that respect the realisation of Elsa is far more telling and is in line with the fact that female roles are frequently the strongest ones in his films (apart from the actresses already mentioned there is also a cameo role here for one of his long-term associates, Rossy de Palma).
If the treatment of the themes touched on is largely on the soft side, the more relaxed tone does not deprive the film of its ability to give pleasure. Furthermore, if Bitter Christmas isn't always fully sustained, it does at least build to a fascinating confrontation scene between Raúl and his assistant, Mónica, who unexpectedly returns to Madrid to take a prominent role in the film’s concluding section. At their meeting it is she who does the confronting and lets fly with criticisms of Raúl and of his screenplay. When doing so she is in fact pointing out defects in the film which we are viewing (she does, for example, mention that the portrayals of Bonifacio and Santi lack real substance).
Along with Bárbara Lennie’s Elsa, it is Aitana Sánchez-Gijón’s Mónica which makes the strongest impression so this climactic scene does have force. It is also daring in that it shows a willingness on Almodóvar's own part to acknowledge that Bitter Christmas has definite weaknesses. You can give him credit for being willing to do that, but it does not necessarily absolve him. Even so, this conclusion adds to the interest of the piece and Mónica's comments do also specifically point out the extent to which what might seem a minor element is actually a highlight. It is hardly a surprise when, late on, we learn that Black Christmas is the title that appears on Raúl's screenplay, but it is also the title of one of the songs featured here. These are taken from the work of the Mexican singer Chavela Vargas who came out as lesbian in 2002 and died in 2012 at the age of ninety-three. Apart from hearing her own voice, there is a full rendition of a song composed by her – ‘Las simples cosas’ – which is performed on screen by Amaia Romero. These moments - and that song in particular - play as a tribute to an artist admired by Almodóvar. But, over and above that, it provides an illustration of art living on after the death of the artist who created it and who had succeeded in sustaining a long career. It gives Bitter Christmas its most deeply felt comment on art and on those who devote themselves to it.
Original title: Amarga Navidad.
Cast: Bárbara Lennie, Leonardo Sbaraglia, Aitana Sánchez-Gijón, Patrick Criado, Quim Gutiérrez, Milena Smit, Victoria Luengo, Rossy de Palma, Carmen Machi, Gloria Muñoz, Amaia Romero, Nico Martin.
Dir Pedro Almodóvar, Pro Agustín Almodóvar, Screenplay Pedro Almodóvar, Ph Pau Esteve Birba, Pro Des Antxon Gómez, Ed Teresa Font, Music Alberto Iglesias, Costumes Paco Delgado.
El Deseo/RTVE/ICO/ICAA-Curzon Film Distributors.
111 mins. Spain. 2026. UK Rel: 28 August 2026. US Rel: 25 November 2026. Cert. 15.
