Strange Way Of Life review – characteristically Almodóvarian queer western

The title of Pedro Almodóvar’s 30-minute short film is a reference to Portuguese fado singer Amália Rodrigues’ ​‘Estranha Forma de Vida’ – a ballad about a woman with a restless heart. It plays a starring role in the Spanish auteur’s collaboration with fashion house Saint Laurent, as singer Manu Rios plays an anonymous balladeer crooning on the streets of a sleepy American border town. He’s clocked by Silva (Pedro Pascal), a gunslinger returning after 25 years, supposedly to check in with an old friend. The stage feels set for a stand-off.

Silva’s arrival elicits a warm reaction from his old friend Jake (Ethan Hawke) who’s taken up the position of sheriff in town – a far cry from the days of being wild he once shared with Silva. Their reunion generates a complex web of emotions: excitement and affection, then confusion and suspicion. After a night together, Jake gruffly notes that Silva isn’t on a social call. His son is on the wrong side of the law and, despite the history between them, Jake isn’t about to let a guilty man walk free.

While Almodóvar cheekily suggested that Strange Way of Life was his response to Brokeback Mountain, there are none of the sharp edges of Ang Lee’s film. Instead there’s a tenderness which feels characteristically Almodóvarian, as Jake and Silva reminisce about the days when they ran together – notably a night in Mexico, which we see in a lush flashback. It’s a romantic western, with Hawke and Pascal possessing an easy, believable chemistry. To be able to convey a lifetime of longing in such a short space of time is a testament to both their skill as actors and the focus of Almodóvar’s script, which doesn’t waste a single second.

Anthony Vaccarello – head designer at Saint Laurent, who co-produced the film – pulls double duty as an executive producer and costume designer, but for a collaboration with a fashion house, Strange Way of Life never feels like a promotional film. The costumes, in particular a worn green jacket that Pascal wears, are in keeping with the period setting, and feel as considered as they would in any of Almodóvar’s feature-length projects. Similarly, the cinematography of his regular DoP José Luis Alcaine emphasises the colour and passion of the world.

Against an arid backdrop of brown rocks and blue sky, Silva and Jake stand out, as though their only solace is each other. The film’s only true flaw is its length. This is a world we could easily inhabit for much longer, and by the time the film reaches its conclusion, we’ve only just scratched the surface of Silva and Jake’s story. Brevity might be the soul of wit, but when it comes to seeing Almodóvar’s sweeping melodrama operate in a new genre, it’s hard to not yearn for more.

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