Pedro Almodóvar

Even as these words are rolling off his tongue in confident but accented English, I feel myself struck by something interesting about the man: his incredible honesty – about his art and motivations – and, even more so, his passion and joy in making films. Almodóvar is a man visibly in love with what he does, and he has developed little ways of entertaining himself in the process of making his art.
     Almodóvar has such a distinct way of telling a story that it could only be Almodóvar. You know from the very first frames that you are not merely watching an Almodóvar film but that you have entered into his own meticulously constructed reality. There is the signature colour palette, of course. But there is also his writing, the unusual and extreme concepts with the unexpected twists, the actors that appear and reappear like family. So it’s really no wonder that he has such a personal relationship to the objects he places throughout his films. They help him to tell the story but they also make the films feel like his own possessions. They are the links from this world into his created one.
     Every great director has a special power to transport us to another place through their films. However most often each film feels like a different place, the world of that particular movie, which you fall into as you become wrapped in the story. But for me there are two directors that every time I sit down to watch one of their movies, at the moment that the lights go down, the music comes up and the opening credits begin to roll, I feel instantly transported not so much into the world of that film, but into the familiar and beloved universe of that director, a place that I am always so happy to return to that whether or not the new film is one of his best is