Despite its humorous title “Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios,” which translates to “Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown,” the 1988 film is a startlingly mindful depiction of the exasperation that women feel because of men’s deceit. The movie gives its female characters a sense of empowerment and agency that was unprecedented in 1980s Spain, making it a worthy case study in boundary-pushing Spanish film.

Directed by Pedro Almodóvar, the film is absurdly funny, masterfully written and a beautiful display of Almodóvar’s surrealist style. The film’s protagonist is a whimsical voice actress named Pepa (Carmen Maura) who is suffering in the aftermath of a painful breakup with her charming and 20-years-older costar Iván (Fernando Guillén). 

Almodóvar directed the film during “La Movida Madrileña,” a period of Spanish cultural backlash following the repressive, 36-year dictatorship of Francisco Franco.

A rebellion, the aesthetic of “La Movida Madrileña” revolved around vibrant colors, irreverent humor and female empowerment in Spanish society. “Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown” conveys all of that in a poetic and humorous way. 

The use of costume is central to Almodóvar’s depiction of “La Movida Madrileña” and the film’s execution of comedy. For instance, Pepa’s unhinged supermodel friend, Candela (María Barranco), falls off the roof of a penthouse and clings to the side of the building in a blue bodycon dress. 

In another scene, Iván’s ex-wife, Lucía (Julieta Serrano), follows him to the airport with a gun to murder him — and she does so while wearing a prim, powder-pink petticoat, dramatic 1980s eyelashes and a large bouffant hairstyle. Her appearance operates in laughable contrast to her actual deeds, as she shoots to kill off the back of a speeding motorcycle. 

As crazed as Lucía’s actions may be, Almodóvar frames her and every female character in the film as intelligent and compassionate, while instead pointing a finger at the men who have wronged them. Although Lucía chases her unfaithful ex with a gun, she never attacks the other woman. Almodóvar uses her sorrow and old age to invite the audience to sympathize with her. 

Furthermore, Almodóvar infuses his film with realism as its stars feel respectful and approachable, and never prescribe to unattainable beauty standards. When Pepa is shown without makeup, she is not seen as sick or unhinged; she is simply allowed to be a woman with depth, flaunting misogynistic and unrealistic standards women are often held to. 

The relatable nature of the characters also allows for exceptional humor that is sometimes loud but frequently subtle, and always Spanish in every sense. There exists an abrupt edge to Spanish humor that cannot be effectively translated into an American context, as traditional Spanish comedy centers around sexual innuendo and fatal danger. 

For the Spanish viewer, the numerous near-death situations in this film are comically genius, and in an Americanized rom-com, these scenes would be quite uncomfortable. But the rough humor empowers the female characters because it conveys their deviation from the norm of quiet, submissive femininity of the previous Francoistic social structure. 

Adding to the rejection of Francoism is Almodóvar’s condensement of male characters into brainless and inconsiderate individuals. Iván’s son (Antonia Banderas) cheats on his fiance the moment she falls asleep. Candela’s lover owns up to being a terrorist and leaves her, so he can place a bomb in the airport. Iván abandons Pepa for a far younger woman. The exaggerated dishonor of the men throughout the film, who appear to embody Francoism, successfully convey that the film’s female hysteria is indeed justified.

Although the title reads like a sexist trope and both the male and female characters still conform to certain misogynistic stereotypes, this film is director Almodóvar adroitly paying homage to the rise of the post-Franco Spanish feminist movement. With women taking charge of the storyline and openly refuting misogynistic sentiments, Almodóvar’s female characters provide a refreshing reprieve from other contemporary depictions of women in film.

Above all, it is evident that Almodóvar captures the essence of Spanish filmmaking in “Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown.” This film simply could not be made in Hollywood, have a protagonist played by Jennifer Aniston or be set in any other city besides Madrid. 

Florence Fernandez is a first-year in the College. Box Office Global appears in print and online every other week.