An intricate nesting doll structure provides Spain’s most iconic auteur a lens with which to reflect on his own creative foibles, in frequently scathing terms, in this lacerating self-portrait.
A fear of death hangs over it, but less real-life death than an artistic one… not only does [Almódovar’s] control remain remarkable, but it also shows new tricks under its familiar surfaces.
Bitter Christmas 2025
Amarga Navidad
Pedro Almodóvar’s films have always been self-reflexive, folding in layers of memory and personal history alongside his propensity for primary-coloured melodrama. In Bitter Christmas, Raúl (Leonardo Sbaraglia) is a filmmaker in the midst of an intense creative crisis, who finds a spark of inspiration in the pain of his longtime assistant Mónica (Aitana Sánchez-Gijón), whose best friend recently lost their child. In parallel, we follow the story Raúl writes, itself about a creatively adrift filmmaker (a luminous Bárbara Lennie), who draws inspiration from the trauma of the people around her, including a friend who herself has lost a child. Both directors find their loved ones are less than amenable to having their lives mined for drama, as the line between autofiction and biography blur.
Bitter Christmas finds Almodóvar reflecting on a storied career, picking through the personal debris that being an artist engenders. Throughout, Almodóvar’s propensity for melodrama is present, but muted — it is a work in the midst of a fascinating conversation with itself.
– Tom Augustine