THE STORY – After her mother dies in December, advertising director Elsa immerses herself in work to cope. When a panic attack forces her to take a break, she decides to travel to Lanzarote with her friend Patricia. The story of these women run parallel to that of a screenwriter and film director, exploring how life and fiction are inseparably linked, sometimes painfully so.
THE CAST – Bárbara Lennie, Leonardo Sbaraglia, Aitana Sánchez-Gijón, Victoria Luengo & Patrick Criado
THE TEAM – Pedro Almodóvar (Director/Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 111 Minutes
Pedro Almodóvar’s “Bitter Christmas” adds to an expansive list of cinematic homages to the art of filmmaking. The approach to depicting imitations of life ranges anywhere between light and playful (Richard Linklater’s “Nouvelle Vague”), sentimental (Steven Spielberg’s “The Fabelmans”), and more naturalistic (Mia Hansen-Love’s “Bergman Island”). In any case, films of this sub-genre examine art as a springboard for how we perceive our interior lives, and how it impacts perceptions of the world at large. By design, “Bitter Christmas” has a meta quality to its narrative, depicting the struggle of writing not just any new story, but one that feels worthy for a devoted audience. However uneven and minor this film may be in the grand, twisty scheme of Almodóvar’s work, it’s still a wholly worthy endeavor. It’s a reflective, passionate love letter in which the visionary looks fondly on creative ruts and embraces the messiness of drawing fiction from reality.
In true Almodóvar fashion, “Bitter Christmas” unfolds through parallel stories that encourage us to reflect on how they intersect across time. After losing her mother in December 2004, Elsa (Bárbara Lennie) throws herself into her work as an advertising director to cope with the grief. However, panic attacks force Elsa to hit pause on all things commercial. Her partner, Bonifacio (Patrick Criado), a firefighter by day and stripper on weekends, takes her to the hospital as she suffers a severe migraine. Realizing she must take a break from work, Elsa travels to the volcanic island of Lanzarote, where she disappears into mourning. She is accompanied by her friend, Patricia (Victoria Luengo), who is navigating personal grief, having just left her unfaithful husband, Ricardo. The pair is later joined by a third woman, Natalia (Milena Smit), a young mother who is mourning the death of her son. The island landscape makes for a serene backdrop against the ferocious emotions bubbling within these characters.
Sometimes a change of scenery is exactly what gets the creative juices flowing, and in Elsa’s case, it is on Lanzarote that she feels the desire to make a third film. She had directed her first two films ten years prior, which both flopped and became cult classics. Almodóvar includes a very amusing scene early on, wherein Elsa is admitted to the hospital and explains the meaning of “cult classic” to her nurse, who had mistaken this phrase for a literal sect. It’s one of a few standout moments that give way to Almodóvar’s musings on the film industry and, more specifically, the glossy complexities of his own work.
Elsa’s perspective is in a dreamy, fragmented conversation with Raúl (Leonardo Sbaraglia), a screenwriter and director who leads the film’s summer 2026 storyline. It is revealed that Raúl’s script is actually the story of Elsa, a fictionalized version of himself who reflects his creative drought and deep frustrations around how to regain his artistic spark. When Raúl initially finishes his screenplay, he feels as though something is missing. “Bitter Christmas” manifests that missing ingredient in the final act, when Raúl is confronted by his right-hand woman, Monica (an excellent Aitana Sánchez-Gijón), about the ethics of including real-life intimate details into a work of fiction. It is here that we feel a compelling culmination of Almodóvar’s reflective frame of mind as he crafts this story.
The dual storylines help create the feeling of an inner dialogue come to life through memory and imagination. There is a wonderfully fluid narrative framing that avoids a typical story structure. While the film has a relatively strong handle on navigating between swirls of fiction and reality, it also reaches moments of narrative confusion and gets lost in its own concept. The parallel stories feel more at odds with one another than complementary. As a result, the momentum ebbs and flows, as naturally some developments prove more impactful than others. The film works best in the final act, where Almodóvar fervently reveals the magic tricks behind crafting a screenplay and how techniques are informed by a creator’s inspirations.
With an Almodóvar film comes the expectation of vivid color palettes and playfully interspersed music that heightens the melodrama. “Bitter Christmas” delivers on both fronts with its candy-coated, bold colors and evocative score. There is a particularly stunning shot of Elsa and Patricia lounging on the black sand of the Lanzarote ocean. The film also includes subtle holiday visuals, whether it’s twinkly lights in the background or the pairing of characters wearing red and green sweaters. As per usual in Almodóvar‘s filmography, the film utilizes stunning shades of red to accentuate passionate emotion.
”Bitter Christmas” falls into the category of Almodóvar films that feature the vibrant touchstones of his style, but lack the bite that makes you want to revisit the story and characters. The dual storylines make for some inconsistent narrative momentum throughout. Though, however minor this film feels in the context of his filmography, it’s an achievement that still effectively communicates his signature style and raises lingering questions on how our lives are someone else’s fiction.
