There was nothing bitter about the reception at Cannes for Bitter Christmas, Pedro Almodóvar’s latest Spanish melodrama—his 23rd feature and the eighth one he’s had at the festival (not including 2023’s Strange Way of Life, his 30-minute queer western starring Ethan Hawke and Pedro Pascal).
A standing ovation greeted him as he entered the Grand Lumière Theater for his film’s premiere, which attracted everyone from Juliette Binoche to filmmakers like Abel Ferrara, Darren Aronofsky and two-time Palme d’Or winner Ken Loach. Even gay Instagram sensation Jordan Firstman was there, whose writing-directing debut, the adorable father-son dramedy Club Kid, was the toast of Cannes over the previous few days and sold for $17 million to A24.
“Merci beaucoup,” said a visibly emotional Almodóvar to the adoring crowd after the screening ended. “Of all the audiences that I meet with the screenings of my films, the spectators in this great hall I think are the warmest and the most affectionate that I have ever met. I don’t know how to thank you for the generosity that I have felt every time that I have been here.”
He then took an elegiac turn. “I will miss it very much in the future, when I will not be here and have to watch it only on television.”
Is the 76-year-old director planning to retire? Or is he just starting to feel his age? “It was not a farewell. On the contrary, I already have ideas about my next film,” he reassured journalists at the film’s press conference. “But the day I can no longer come because I don’t have a film or—I don’t know what situation may arise—of course, I will deeply miss things. I have great nostalgia and great love for this festival.”
Despite its name, Bitter Christmas is less a holiday movie and more of a Pirandello-inflected meditation on storytelling, creativity and the sometimes morally dubious origins of inspiration. It also echoes Almodóvar’s 2019 semiautobiographical film Pain and Glory, which starred Antonio Banderas as Almodóvar’s alter ego reflecting on how his filmmaking life has been intertwined with physical ailments like his chronic back pain.
Bitter Christmas interlaces two stories: an account of a celebrated filmmaker named Raúl (Leonardo Sbaraglia, sporting an Almodóvarian salt-and-pepper beard and shaggy locks); and the screenplay he’s in the midst of writing, which follows a troubled cult movie director named Elsa (Bárbara Lennie) who suffers from migraines.
Raúl’s screenwriting process strains his relationship with boyfriend Santi (Quim Gutiérrez) and longtime assistant Mónica (Aitana Sánchez-Gijón), since Elsa’s story and the characters who populated it are peppered with real-life incidents that Raúl has recycled into plot points. “You vampire us,” says Mónica at one point, accusing Raúl of exploiting the people around him.
“Bitter Christmas and Pain and Glory could appear to be interlinked, as sort of diptych, because I talk about myself in both films,” said Almodóvar. “In Bitter Christmas, the pain is a moral pain, it’s a psychological pain, which is experienced as chronic, and I recognize myself in the role of Raúl. It’s an unbearable situation, you have the impression that you’re going through a terrible existential crisis.”
At times, the film feels more like a confessional, and is certainly among the most soul-searching dramas he has made over the past five decades. “At least I try to make sure I haven’t hurt anyone in the overall process,” he said. “But Raúl doesn’t care. It’s in the nature of someone who creates, who is so self-centered. And it’s very dangerous for everyone around him. There’s a moral debate which really hasn’t been elucidated, which concerns the ethical sensitivity of a creator. Pain runs through the whole of the film. Everybody is experiencing a kind of bereavement.”
The characters in Bitter Christmas wrestle with panic attacks, infidelity, emotionally neglected partners and even the death of a child. To Raúl—and to Almodóvar—it’s all creative fodder ripe for the picking, whether it comes from reality or fantasy. And that can be hard to resist, even if it hurts people in real life. “Creation is very mysterious and it’s extremely powerful,” he said. “And when you feel that you’ve been swept away by inspiration, it is impossible for me not to follow that path—even if I don’t know where it’s going to lead me.”
When one journalist asked the director if he’s curious to explore other themes, Almodóvar quickly agreed. “Yes, of course! I’m fed up with myself,” he admitted. “I don’t want to resort to myself in order to continue writing. I would indeed like to change direction. This film is quite definite, it’s probably the last one about myself. I think the next film will be different. It will have a lot more black humor.”
