Inspired by the true story of Raymond Fernandez and Martha Beck, famously known as The Lonely Hearts Killers, Fabrice du Welz’s Alleluia delves straight into the psyche of a couple consumed by insane, murderous love. After single mom Gloria (Lola Dueñas) answers an online dating ad from shoe salesman Michel (Laurent Lucas), she falls madly (and I mean madly) in love with him. Michel turns out to be a fraud, a con artist seducing older women before stealing from them, but this doesn’t phase Gloria one bit; she happily agrees to go along with his scams, abandoning her daughter and posing as Michel’s sister.

The plan to let Michel seduce women into giving him money doesn’t go too well. Gloria’s jealousy of her true love sleeping with other women drives her into a murderous rage, and after walking in on Michel having sex with his new wife she strangles her to death. At this point Alleluia drives straight into crazy town, diving head first into the depraved mental states of its central couple. They continue on, finding more lonely women to take advantage of, and with every new death Gloria’s passion for Michel only grows in intensity.

Fabrice du Welz has a penchant for creating truly surreal, unforgettable moments in his films (see this dance scene from Calvaire or the opening of Vinyan), a trend he continues with Alleluia. A surprise musical number with a grisly ending will definitely have people talking, and a kinetic sequence of Gloria and Michel dancing naked around a fire ends up being one of the film’s most beautifully horrific moments. It’s just unfortunate that these highlights happen so sparingly, as Alleluia‘s story plays out rather predictably. Granted, it’s based on a familiar true story (most famously adapted into The Honeymoon Killers), but du Welz’s attempts to punch things up stylistically only work some of the time. Add the abrupt, unsatisfactory ending into the mix and Alleluia winds up being a disappointment.

Credit where it’s due, though: Manu Dacosse’s cinematography constantly impresses, using ultra-grainy 16mm film stock to full effect in establishing the film’s disturbing mood. But it’s Lola Dueñas who impresses the most here, completely throwing herself into her role. She’s simultaneously ferocious and devastating, spending the film’s first half to show her vulnerability before unleashing a whirlwind of rage once she starts killing. Sadly Alleluia‘s finer qualities prove to be more admirable than enjoyable, as the film can’t break free of its old-hat narrative.

Returning to his absurdist comedy roots after taking years off, Pedro Almodóvar keeps it (mostly) playful with his unfiltered, druggy, cocktail-crazy sex party in the sky, I’m So Excited.

90 percent of the film is set on an airplane stranded in the clouds—one of the landing gears has been damaged (by the bumbling Antonio Banderas and Penelope Cruz in the film’s brief tone-setting prologue). The pilots search desperately for a solution for their dire predicament while three unflappably optimistic, gay flight attendants (Javier Camara, Carlos Areces, and Raul Arevalo, like a bitchy three-headed dog of fabulousness) attempt to keep the business class passengers’ spirits high despite the morbid situation that needles them. The economy class passengers? They’ve been drugged to sleep, ignorant of the impending danger (Almodóvar’s take on the Spanish proletariat).

Now, back to the business class folks. They’re a pill-popping, sex-starved freak show of sleaze. Lola Dueñas, an Almodóvar alumnus, plays a perpetually grinning 40-year-old-virgin psychic who can “smell death” and enhances her “powers” by groping a pair of male genitalia like a forklift driver. The rest of the weirdos include an assassin, a whore queen, and young newlyweds who have sleepwalk-sex right in their seats. “Shhhh!” the young husband—afraid his wife will be jostled from her sleep-state—snips to the vocally curious Dueñas, who is sitting right by them, fascinated by their lovemaking. From her inexperienced sexual perspective, she sees the couple’s amorous display as an impromptu sex-ed class. “What is it?!” the husband snips, hilariously, in between moans. “Are you doing it from the front or the back?” inquires Dueñas. That’s Almodóvar for you. Bawdy moments like this are plentiful and infectiously funny.

The film’s title refers to its brilliantly camp, wildly choreographed dance number performed by the three flight attendants, set to the classic Pointer Sisters tune. The trio is so committed to their flamboyance and semi-synchronized dance moves that you’ll be dying to jump into the screen, grab a Valencia cocktail, and join in on the fun. It’s joyously sloppy Cabaret.

Theatricality is the name of the game here, as all of the scenes on the plane feel like a filmed stage play (in a good, kinetic way, though not terribly cinematic). Almodóvar feels like early ‘80s Almodóvar, the guy who directed outlandish shock-fests like Pepi, Luci, Bom… This is a good thing, but while the in-your-face crudeness of his early work is very much present and potent here, the dramatic beats—there are more than you’d expect—don’t leave a lasting impression. The scattered tender moments (however melodramatic) are constantly elbowed aside by the gags, which are tastier and easily digestible. Even the parabolic commentary on Spain (something Almodóvar spends much time on) is overshadowed by the raunchy, “Fuck you, you’re gonna love this shit” humor. There’s a love story mixed up in here somewhere, but all I can think about is the scene when Lola Dueñas rapes a guy (gasp)!

Has Almodóvar’s filthy comedic mind lost its edge during his extended respite? No—his edge is sharp, and he’s still fiendishly provocative, no question. He had me constantly shaking my head in disbelief at the dirty things he got me to laugh at. What keeps I’m So Excited from being one of his very best is that the narrative threads running throughout the film, while ambitious and well-acted, ultimately add very little to the overall experience. Though the film’s half-hearted narrative is underwhelming, the rowdy airborne shenanigans, bitch-fest dialog, and irresistible cast will grab you by the face and give you a big smooch you won’t soon forget.

Volver could probably pass as a good Spanish soap opera. The film by talented director Pedro Almodóvar is about a predominantly female family and how they deal with situations that unfold. This melodrama contains all of Almodóvar’s trademarks; female focused, flawed human beings, consistent color palette, and plot twists. It just was not comprised together as well as his other films.

We are introduced to the entire family at the beginning of the film. Standing over their mother and father’s grave are sisters Raimunda (Penélope Cruz) and Sole (Lola Dueñas). They are trying to keep the grave clean of flying debris on a day that is about as windy as the day their parents died from the strong wind blowing fire that led to their death.

The two sisters and Raimunda’s daughter Paula (Yohana Cobo) leave the cemetery to go visit Aunt Paula (kind of confusing, I know). Aunt Paula can barely see or walk so it is to their surprise when they see an exercise bike in her bathroom. How could see use it if she can hardly walk? As they leave there are handmade deserts she prepared for them. But how could she bake if she can hardly see?

These are questions that Pedro side steps for the first act of the film. They are hinted at but not revealed until later. Although, the answer to this is not necessarily a spoiler, it is better to let Pedro do the answering.

Raimunda is headed home from her shift from the airport when she is greeted by Paula. This is not a regular occurrence so she knows that something is wrong but the real give-away is the blank face Paula has on her face. She cannot form the words to construct a sentence but when she is does it is haunting.

She explains to her mom that her drunken father came on to her in the kitchen. He recites that he is not the father in order to somehow make it justifiable to have sex with her. She pleads with him to stop but when he does not she pulls out a knife and ends up stabbing him to death.

As if Raimunda does not have enough to deal with she receives a phone call about another death that is close to her. Sole informs her that their Aunt Paula has passed away. She can barely focus on the news as the dead man on the floor of her kitchen remains her top priority.

You would assume that the film is leading you down the path of a murder-mystery-cover up but that tangent fades about as quickly as it begins. Instead Volver splits into a few directions, Raimunda successfully runs a restaurant but without permission. Sole gets help with her illegal hair salon business from a person you would least expect. The common centerpiece is the interactions amongst the family members.

Pedro loves to use the color of red, the color was all over Broken Embraces and Volver was no exception. From purses, to buses, clothing, tomatoes, furniture, and vehicles, the red hue is everywhere. The reasoning here is obvious, the red symbolizes blood and passion. It is becoming a trademark of Pedro’s.

Penelope Cruz was nominated for an Oscar for her performance as Raimunda. However, the entire cast did so well that the female ensemble shared the Best Actress award at Cannes. Also at Cannes, the film itself was nominated for the Palme d’Or.

Volver is ultimately a melodrama about how death can be dealt with by forgiveness and acceptance. The biggest issue with this film for me was not that it was not as hard hitting as his other work but that it went off on some unneeded tangents. It may not be the most solid Almodóvar script but that does not mean the film is not worth a watch.