The theatrical trailer for Pedro Almodovar's latest film \Bad Education"" is remarkably brief but uniquely enigmatic and fitting. The pulsating Bernard Herrmann-esque score is accompanied by the customary black-and-white praise from the nation's top critics, and then a startlingly rapid succession of images from pivotal moments in the film. ""Bad Education"" is above all, despite its frequent flouting of genre conventions, a mystery in which the lack of information is part of the fun; a mysterious, concise preview offering a teasing glimpse but certainly no revelation is a perfect advertisement for such a film. In an age where trailers are often little more than highlight reels giving away the entire film (""Cast Away"" and ""The Truman Show"" are two such excellent films which nonetheless had their surprise factors spoiled by misguided ad campaigns), the relative secrecy surrounding ""Bad Education"" is an example that the wise will follow.
""Bad Education"" has most prominently been compared to a work of Hitchcock, since its hairpin twists and dubious characters evoke some of the master's whodunits, but Almodovar has more up his lavish sleeve. His finished product could be likened to a melodramatic hodgepodge of Hitchcockian pacing and rhythm, noir intrigue (with an emphasis on the sexual), a dash of sly self-consciousness a la ""Adaptation"" or ""8 1?2,"" and more than a dash of ""Almodovarian"" cross-dressing hijinx. Think ""Vertigo"" meets ""Priscilla, Queen of the Desert.""
In order to preserve the majority of Almodovar's surprises, plot summary will be especially minimal. Writer-director Enrique Goded (Fele Martinez) is visited by Ignacio (Gael Garcia Bernal), an old chum and lover from Catholic school. He has written a story about their tumultuous times under Father Manolo (Daniel Jiminez Cacho), an abusive priest whom Ignacio intends to blackmail. True identities are ambiguous and questionable, genders are bended, and the distinction between art and life is blurred repeatedly.
Gael Garcia Bernal, the seemingly ubiquitous Mexican heartthrob from ""Amores Perros,"" ""Y Tu Mama Tambien,"" and ""Motorcycle Diaries,"" gives the performance of his career in this film. Any actor who follows up a much-admired portrayal of masculine icon Che Guevara with a role as a ribald drag queen femme fatale is worthy of mention, but Bernal does it effortlessly. His performance is masterful, multifaceted and marvelous; this film's success is indebted in no small way to Bernal.
Though it has been extolled as Almodovar's finest film (and the ""best movie of the year"" by a few critics), ""Bad Education"" is not as memorable or thrillingly inimitable as his previous efforts. It is an idiosyncratic yet somewhat minor genre effort from Almodovar, resplendent with his flamboyant flourishes but curiously lacking in depth. ""Talk to Her"" has touches of the outrageous (the silent movie insert is the one of the most unexpectedly hilarious scenes in any recent film), but its power lies in its emotional resonance and cohesion-something ""Bad Education,"" for all its bells and whistles, is deficient in.
This is especially significant considering ""Bad Education"" may be Almodovar's most personal, as the strikingly photographed childhood reminiscences seem positively nostalgic and at least semi-autobiographical. A child singing ""Moon River"" (which summons images of Audrey Hepburn's incomparable beauty and George Peppard's hairdo), a gorgeously lensed soccer game-these scenes feel authentic and wonderful. The trappings of the genre are paradoxically the film's greatest weakness and flaw, since Almodovar's alluring playfulness with reality and fiction makes for a superb thriller but a slightly disappointing melodrama.
""Bad Education"" is rated NC-17 for a fairly explicit depiction of fellatio, which, had it been performed by a woman instead of Bernal in a wig, would have probably received a hard R. This film is one of Almodovar's more extravagantly gay features; ""Bad Education"" has a penchant for lingering crotch shots and innumerable depictions of man-on-man action which may turn off some viewers.
Perhaps some day Almodovar will use his diverse color palette to weave elements of his life into an enlightening autobiographical account of rich emotion. But for now, a pervasively homoerotic, skillfully puzzling pastiche of Hitchcock and Fellini will do just fine.
