1
Representation of masculinity and male sexuality in Pedro
Almodóvar’s film Law of Desire.
Sempou Evangelia
Abstract
Almodóvar’s Law of Desire (1987) was one of the most discussed films of its
time, due to the overt representation of homosexuality. In my essay I begin by
analysing the soft core pornographic sequence of the beginning of the film and its
connotations. In the main body I am mostly preoccupied with the ways in which
the Spanish director subverts traditional notions of masculinity and gender and
acquaints his viewers with the daily life of a homosexual couple, demonstrating the
similarities with heterosexual couples. The point to be made is that categorisations
such as ‘gay’ and ‘straight’ are overthrown by the narrative of the film, as sexual
orientation is presented as something fluid and unfixed. Other topics discussed are
the oppressed sexuality (closeting) of one character, representation of the erotic
desire, reciprocity, fluidity of gender identities and deconstruction at the formal
level. There is also a reference to the role of fetishes in gay male desire and an
extended analysis of the three main characters, Pablo and Antonio (the homosexual
couple), and Pablo’s transsexual sister, Tina.
Key words: Sexuality, representation, body, gender, fetishism, destabilise of
identity.
*****
1. Introduction
Law of Desire (1987) is undoubtedly one of the most challenging films of
Almodóvar, as it deconstructs traditional gender stereotypes, especially those of
masculinity and male sexuality. The film has as main axis the character of the
manipulative gay director Pablo, the unconventional life of Pablo’s transsexual
sister, Tina, and the fiery, destructive passion of Pablo’s lover, Antonio. Created
only 12 years after Franco’s death, we may consider it as a conscious effort to
undermine the conservative cultural policy of the regime, by focusing on
homosexual sexuality and highlighting the fluidity of gender.
2.Main part
2.1 The opening scene
Before commenting on the opening scene of La Ley del Deseo, I find it useful
to mention here an interesting point made by Perriam about the function of the
male body in contemporary Spanish cinema. He states that ‘the body of the
Spanish male star is inevitably a key point of inflection of stardom, masculinities
and national specifics.’1Apparently the Spanish male body carries connotations of
muscularity, weakness, nationalism etc, depending on the intentions at stake.
Consequently, the viewer may find himself confused at times, unable to project
2Representation of masculinity
himself to this continuum of constantly changing stereotypes, ending up
questioning his own identity.
With this observation in mind, we can start our approach to the opening scene
of Law of Desire. The film opens with a provocative soft-porn sequence, showing a
young athletic man in an unknown location, in the interior of a room with a bed
and a mirror. Voices outside the frame give him instructions to undress and caress
himself, and eventually lead him to masturbate. Afterwards the camera focuses on
two older men reading from a script these instructions to the young model. This
scene is revealed to be a film-within-a-film, directed by Pablo Quintero, the main
character of Law of Desire.
In this particular scene, the body of the young man is deliberately seen through
the eyes of the gay male viewer, as the unseen Voices guide him, aiming at the
voyeuristic pleasure of the viewer. According to Fouz-Hernández and MartínezExpósito, ‘here the male body is multiply objectified’ and its vulnerability is
emphasised by the ‘words he is asked to declaim.’2 The Voices - with their
sensuality increased by the fact that they come from unidentified and unseen
speakers - manipulate the model, which seems to lack personal will or ability to
resist.
The concept of the ‘objectified body’ is dominant in Law of Desire. The young
man dissociates from his quality as a human subject and becomes an object, a mere
vehicle to satisfy the lust of the older men, who breathe heavily and sweat
absorbed in their role. Williams observes that ‘in Almodóvar’s complex sexual
couplings - as in the opening sequence - there is a merging of subject and object.’ 3
Lost in the game of desire, the Voices also lose their subjectivity and seek to
objectify themselves in order to be desired by the model.
But does this scene activate indeed the voyeuristic pleasure of the viewers?
For Smith, the view of the vulnerable sweating dubbers juxtaposed to the virile,
polished performer disables voyeuristic spectators.4 The actual viewers of Law of
Desire can either choose to identify themselves with these unattractive dubbers
(highly unlikely) or to abstain from the identification process as a whole, thus
diminishing voyeuristic pleasure. What is more, the ostensibly exposed young man
ultimately ends up being the prevailing power in this sequence, as the voice-over
artists are completely captivated by his presence. The fluidity of dominance in
sexual relationships of any gender is emphasised here. This opinion is further
reinforced by the fact that ‘the camera focuses on man’s behind instead, thus
somewhat preserving the phallic mystique.’5 The avoidance of the sight of the
man’s penis underlines his elevated status and renders his genitals as something
exceptional that must remain hidden.
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In general, according to Smith the opening scene is ‘not simply a scandalous
provocation’6 but also includes many references to the main themes of the film,
such as the shift of power in sexual relationships and narcissism. Indeed the change
of dominance between model and dubbers implies the changes of sovereignty in
the sexual relationship of Pablo and Antonio; the narcissistic approach of the male
body is equivalent to the narcissistic and manipulative attitude of Pablo. The
sequence challenges the established regime of film-making, thematically and
formally, as a cut-off scene of a film-within-a-film.
2.2. Deconstructing gender identities
2.2.a Antonio and Pablo
In the beginning of the film Pablo appears to be madly in love with Juan, who
doesn’t requite his love and abandons him for a summer job. Antonio, an athletic
young man approaches Pablo and becomes his lover. Although Pablo is the one
initiating the reluctant Antonio to homosexual love, in the end Antonio appears to
be a skilful student, capable of transcending his teacher as he proves willing to pay
the price of desire by murdering Juan and sacrificing himself. In this way he
succeeds in finally making Pablo fall in love with him.
How exactly do these two characters express their masculinity within the frame
of the relationship they develop? Antonio is generally displayed as very virile. In
the beginning he explicitly says to Pablo ‘I don’t sleep with men’, he is presented
in two scenes in a bar holding a toy-carbine (to establish his role as predator) and
wears athletic Lacoste sport shirts. ‘He represents a certain intolerant and inflexible
notion of masculinity.’7 However, this image is totally deconstructed, as he ends up
adopting the role of the deranged wife, envying and spying on Pablo. He becomes
hysterical and jealous, thus acquiring characteristics traditionally attributed to
women (alas). According to Hernández and Perriam ‘his submission to his own
obsession; a sex act classically disruptive of masculinity’s self-definition through
bodily integrity; (…) all deconstruct stable identity, the meanings of love, and, in
Antonio, manliness.’8 Indeed, driven by the law of desire, Antonio withdraws from
his previous beliefs and surrenders himself to homosexual love. The sex act
between him and Pablo reinforces the deconstruction of traditional notions of
masculinity ipso facto.
It is a problem whether to categorise Antonio as gay or straight, as his sexual
orientation does not seem standard. He has not revealed anything to his mother
about his oppressed homosexual desires. On the other hand, although he pleads for
discretion to Pablo, he also acts impulsively and publicly kisses him in a train
station during daytime. His altogether contradictory behaviour is perhaps indicative
of Almodóvar’s suggestion to the viewers, to abstain from any kind of absolute
beliefs about sexuality. With such a fluid representation of Antonio, the director not
only destabilizes the concept of masculinity, but also explicitly criticises the still
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4Representation of masculinity
remaining conservatism of many societies, who integrate and perpetuate
homophobia in their educational systems, religion and upbringing of children.
Pablo’s personality also comprises of many elements: he is athletic despite his
older age; he is also a celebrated director, an intellectual. He is not ashamed of his
sexuality, though he doesn’t like to advertise it. He is the narcissist, manipulative
master who ‘looks at and desires the object within the narrative. As artistintellectual he also bespeaks him, constructs him, projects him, fantasizes him, in
short, represents him.’9 Despite the fact that in the end the ostensibly oppressed
Antonio becomes the critical force, this doesn’t change the reality that throughout
the movie Antonio is emotionally carved by Pablo.
We may therefore deduce that despite Pablo’s overt homosexuality, his
masculinity derives from his social eminence and from his ability to manipulate
others. We can also consider that his athletic body and his intellectuality reinforce
his male sexuality. According to Smith, Almodóvar insists on ‘showing us the
‘‘normality’’ and ‘‘naturalness’’ of his sometimes extravagant but never effeminate
or affected characters.’10 Pablo and Antonio may cross the line sometimes, but in
general they are not presented as feminine. In my opinion, the important thing to
remember is that Almodóvar underlines the non-fixity of characteristics attributed
to gender.
He insists on subverting long-standing ideas of masculinity,
subsequently blurring the barriers of ‘masculine’ and ‘feminine’. This non-fixity,
accompanied with an innovative presentation of homosexuality on screen, can be
observed in two ways: firstly, in the presentation of the gay relationship between
Pablo and Antonio. Almodóvar shows us how the problems of gay couples can be
similar to those of straight couples. Jealousy, obsession, lack of reciprocity,
rampant passion and the like are inevitable problems of human merging, regardless
of sexual orientation. Secondly, the Spanish director deconstructs traditional
gender stereotypes by projecting a new type of nuclear family: ‘a gay male as
father; his sibling, now a lesbian transsexual, as mother; and the daughter of a
lesbian to complete the new familiar trinity.’11 The motif of the typical family with
straight parents is completely overthrown, and happy scenes from the life of this
alternative new family confirm the idea that masculine fathers and feminine
mothers are not a necessary element for the functionality of the family.
2.2.b. Tina
Tina is Pablo’s transsexual sister, who went away with their father to Morocco
and got a sex change. After their father abandoned her, she decided to become a
lesbian. Her story can be regarded as a travesty of Oedipus, since as a boy Tina
was in love with her father instead of her mother, and therefore reversed the
Oedipal syndrome. This action led to the exile and castration of Tina because her
choices subverted gender codes. Once again Almodóvar destabilises the traditional
concept of masculinity, by transforming the body and identity of a boy into a
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feminine figure. What’s more, the director changes again the sexual orientation of
Tina, making her a lesbian due to her disappointment with men.
Tina also takes care of her ex-lover’s daughter, Ada and corresponds very well
to her maternal role. She emphasises her femininity by wearing striking dresses
and wanting to conceal her age e.g. with a face-lifting. She is hysterical and easily
moved. But then again, these are characteristics only traditionally attributed to
women. Almodóvar renders Tina defiant of such categorisations by giving her a
complex temperament: generally ostentatiously feminine, she doesn’t hesitate to
manifest her manly background when needed. When two policemen offend her, she
knocks down one of them with a very virile punch. She combines feminine and
masculine characteristics, thus transcending gender barriers. Fouz-Hernández and
Martínez-Expósito comment that ‘the cultural effect of transvestism is to
destabilize all such binaries: not only ‘‘male’’ and ‘‘female’’ but also ‘‘gay’’ and
‘‘straight’’, and ‘‘sex’’ and ‘‘gender’’.’12
By the abovementioned factors, we may conclude that in her sex change and
constant changes of sexual orientation (she ends up sleeping with Antonio) lies
Tina’s struggle to construct a true and singular identity. The transformation of her
body and her own personal construction of gender imply her attempt to invalidate
binary oppositions and to form a unity without precedent. In two conversations of
Tina with the priest and her brother she repeatedly declares that her memories are
all she is left with. Her past is unique, as she maintains memories of herself both as
Tino and Tina. Her sexuality is generally that of a female. The director perhaps
suggests that the much celebrated concept of masculinity may sometimes not be
sufficient for an individual. Nevertheless, some male traits are still inscribed into
her personality. Through her narrative, she triggers the imagination of the
spectators and enables them to see her as a young traumatised boy. Oscillating
between memory and current condition, she once again indicates that sexual
orientation is not something inherent and inviolable.
Finally, another interesting point can be deduced from the scene during which
Tina walks with Pablo and Ada in the street and sees a man cleaning the road with
a hose. She persistently asks for water to be poured on her. She exclaims that she
can’t stand the heat and when finally hosed down, she seems very satisfied. For
Allinson, here Tina personifies desire.13 I believe that Tina, being a transsexual,
incorporates features of both sexes and is in position to have a panoramic, a more
complete idea of the definition of desire. From this privileged point of view, she is
entitled to seek and achieve this figurative orgasm, as she is the only character
capable of fully appreciating it. She is the one who blasts the barriers between
artifice and reality, male and female, gay and straight categorisations.
2.3. The presence of fetishes
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6Representation of masculinity
One of the many definitions of the word ‘fetish’ is that of an object that arouses
sexual desire, or of an object connected with a fixation. Williams comments that
‘fetishism in Almodóvar crosses gender barriers yet is always ultimately recouped
as germane to gay male desire.’14 Indeed, in Law of Desire there is an abundance of
such objects, all entangled in the relationships of the main characters. In one of the
first scenes, Pablo talks to a stranger outside a bar and mentions that he wishes to
steal Juan’s motorbike, ‘as a fetish’. Juan would leave Pablo the following day, and
Pablo wishes to have a stimulating memoir of his lover.
Another fetish of the film is the white underwear that the model, Pablo and
Antonio wear. The repeated projection of it instead of the penis establishes it as
symbol and underlines the hidden power of the phallus, while reinforcing the male
sexuality of its wearers. The use of the particular fetish also triggers the lust of the
viewers, enabling them to use their imagination creatively. In addition, the
colourful shirt of Pablo can also be considered as fetish, as the generally formally
dressed Antonio buys a similar one, to feel closer to the director. Antonio’s
attempts to possess everything Pablo had imply his effort to transform from a
simple object of desire into the ego ideal.15 The fetish of the shirt is indicative of
the desire of Antonio to assert himself in the life of Pablo as a more active and
subjective factor.
Finally, the ultimate fetish of the film is the typewriter, as it is a fetish created
by Pablo for Pablo himself. It is the symbol of Pablo’s attitude in his gay
relationships, manipulative and narcissistic. His masculinity is increased by his
directing of his lovers’ lives. It is also the key object that reveals the incurable
obsession Pablo has with himself. Only in the end, when he is finally freed from
egocentricity and able to surrender to amour fou, does Pablo realize the destructive
force of his typewriter, and repeatedly and maniacally tries to destroy it. As
Williams comments, in Almodóvar’s film fetishes are detached from
heterosexuality, and reveal the ‘complexities of the male erotic realm.’16 Whereas
Freudian psychoanalysis traditionally attributes the existence of fetishes to
heterosexuals, Almodóvar gives them universal status, regardless of sexual
orientation. He emphasises their role in gay male desire and sexuality as
psychological symbols that reveal desire.
2.4 Editing. Deconstruction at the formal level.
Many film critics have demonstrated how the instability present at the
narrative level also exists at the formal level. As Smith comments Almodóvar uses
cinematographic means to demonstrate the ‘fluidity of gender identity.’17 The critic
mentions as examples the ‘crosscutting between subjective and objective view
points, between established and unestablished locations, dislocating the image and
sound tracks through soundbridges that ‘‘bleed’’ over the cuts.’18 Indeed, in the
opening scene the unspecified location of the interior of a room switches suddenly
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to the established location of a cinema. The POV shots of Tina alternate with the
objective point of view of the director. The voice-overs in the masturbation scene
and the applauds of an invisible diegetic audience in the beginning of the film after
seeing Pablo’s film also reinforce this notion of bemusement.
With regards to the sound, in my opinion the soundtrack of the film is a careful
selection of sensual songs that demonstrate the vulnerable aspect of the characters.
The music underpins the atmosphere of desire and intense emotions,
simultaneously revealing a more sensitive aspect of the characters. Smith
comments that the track of the last scene, ‘Ne me quitte pas’ by Jacques Brel,
combined with the ‘extravagance of the mise-en-scène (the flaming altar)’
represent an attempt to express a sensitivity to female otherness, to ‘cross the line
between male and female narrative.’19 Indeed, the emphasis on melodramatic
motifs and shots interferes with the straight unfolding at the formal level.
The lighting of the film is also important. Almodóvar maintains a low lighting
in sex scenes such as the masturbation scene and the sex scene between Pablo and
Antonio. He thus intensifies the sense of desire and passion, making the
atmosphere more voluptuous.
To end up, Smith analyses the cinematography of the above sequence as a
representation of both the ‘instability and reciprocity in homosexual relations.’20 As
the sex scene begins, Pablo is over Antonio, and the shot is a close-up of their
heads. After the interruption of Antonio to question Pablo, there is ‘a cut to an
overhead shot of them lying supine in bed.’21 Finally, Antonio is on top, in a
reverse shot from the first one. This particular technique is one of disorienting
editing and is used to suggest the constant swift of power in homosexual relations.
Smith also mentions that ‘the logic of the editing has suggested that Antonio’s role
in this relationship is by no means ‘‘passive’’, that he will come to dominate the
self-possessed Pablo.’22 Indeed, we have seen that the diegesis of the film confirms
the implication of the editing, that the obsession of Antonio will eventually also
overwhelm Pablo.
3. Conclusion
Law of Desire overtly tackles with the representation and problems of
homosexual love and desire. With the dismantling of masculinity and gender in the
forefront, Almodóvar seeks to initiate his audience to a more tolerant stance
towards homosexuality. He undoubtedly projects some challenging male images
for a post-Franco era. However, the naturalness in the depiction of the gay couple
reduces the distance between ‘straight’ and ‘gay’ categorisations and acquaints the
viewers with the everyday life of homosexuals.
In addition, the sad closure of the film is deliberately exaggerated as Antonio
sacrifices everything to acquire an hour alone with Pablo. They make love and
afterwards Antonio gets deliberately killed by the policemen waiting outside the
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8Representation of masculinity
apartment. His act of murdering Juan, as well as his ultimate decision to commit
suicide point towards the idea of amour fou, the kind of love that deranges people
regardless of sexual orientation, as the main theme of the film.
To end up, the closure indeed resolves all ambiguities, as Pablo finally realises
that his egocentricity so far disabled his ability to love. His final tears as he holds
the corpse of Antonio in front of a flaming altar (resembling the Pieta) can be
translated as recognition of his guilt. The title is invalidated through the narrative,
as apparently desire cannot be rationally treated and cannot be restricted under any
law. Unrequited love can have the same fatal consequences to every human being,
homo or heterosexual.
Notes
8
1 Chris Perriam, Stars and Masculinities in Spanish Cinema: from Banderas to Bardem (Oxford and New York:
Oxford University Press,2003) ,11-13.
2 Santiago Fouz-Hernández and Alfredo Martínez-Expósito, Live Flesh: The Male Body in Contemporary
Spanish Cinema (London & New York: I.B. Tauris, 2007), 204.
3 Bruce Williams, ‘Playgrounds of desire: Almodóvar, fetishism, and the male ideal ego’, Journal of Film and
Video, 52 (2000): 39.
4 Paul Julian Smith, ‘Pornography, Masculinity, Homosexuality: Almodóvar's Matador and La ley del Deseo’,in
Refiguring Spain: Cinema, Media, Representation, ed. Marsha Kinder (Durham: Duke University Press, 1997),
186.
5 Fouz-Hernández and Martínez-Expósito , Live Flesh: The Male Body, 205.
6 Paul Julian Smith, Laws of Desire: Questions of Homosexuality in Spanish Writing and Film, 1960-1990
(Oxford and New York: OUP, 1992), 189.
7 Paul Julian Smith, ‘La ley del deseo (The Law of Desire 1987): A Talent For Production’, in Desire Unlimited.
The cinema of Pedro Almodóvar, 2d ed, (U.K. and U.S.A: Verso, 2000), 84.
8 Santiago Fouz-Hernández and Chris Perriam, ‘Beyond Almodóvar: 'Homosexuality' in Spanish Cinema of the
1990s’, in Territories of Desire in Queer Culture: Refiguring Contemporary Boundaries, eds David Alderson
and Linda Anderson (Manchester and New York: Manchester University Press, 2000), 98.
9 Thomas Waugh, ‘The Third Body: Patterns in the Construction of the Subject in Gay Male Narrative Film’, in
Queer Looks: Perspectives on Lesbian and Gay Film and Video, eds Martha Gever, John Greyson and Pratibha
Parmar (London and New York: Routledge, 1993), 145.
10 Smith, Laws of Desire, 199.
11 Marvin D’ Lugo, Pedro Almodóvar (Urbana and Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 2006), 56.
12 Fouz-Hernández and Martínez-Expósito, Live Flesh: The Male Body, 154.
13 Mark Allinson, A Spanish Labyrinth: The films of Pedro Almodóvar (London: I.B. Tauris, 2001), 96.
14 Williams, Playgrounds of desire, 28.
15 Ibid., 40.
16 Ibid.
17 Smith, Pornography, Masculinity, Homosexuality, 192.
18 Ibid.
19 Smith, Laws of Desire,199.
20 Ibid., 192.
21 Ibid.
22 Ibid.
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Sempou Evangelia, MA student in Comparative Literature, UCL.