Pedro Almodóvar does not look like a monster. When the 76-year-old master of Spanish cinema enters the library of the Soho Hotel in London, he is casually but stylishly turned out: his box-fresh shoes are Valentino; his crisp checked shirt, Louis Vuitton; his sculpted white hair, more Louis XV. For reasons that will become clear, he holds himself bolt upright, which gives him a distinctly stately bearing. Settling into a chair, removing his dark glasses and slipping a discreet hearing aid into his left ear (“my good ear”, as he calls it, such is the cruelty of age), he seems both approachable and unyielding, like a teddy bear cast in bronze.
Yet, as Bitter Christmas, his playful, Pirandellian new drama, reminds us, filmmakers are powerful and, potentially, treacherous creatures, however cuddly they may appear. “If you’re an authoritative person and on top of that you are a film…
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