Habla Con Ella
The night T received the phone call that my mom had passed, I was sound asleep in New York and T was hosting her final Spanish film class at the LaLa. Right at the moment the call came, T and her students were watching Almodovar’s Habla Con Ella. The scene takes place during WWI:
Katerina: hablando sobre su futura obra de ballet “Las trincheras”
“Cuando se muere un soldado; emerge de su cuerpo su alma, un fantasma; y esto es una bailarina. Lleva un tutú, clásico, blanco pero tiene macha de sanfre; en rojo. De la muerte emerge la vida. De lo masculino emerge lo femenino. De lo terreno emerge lo etéreo, lo impalpable, el fantasma.”
For nine months, as Tin was struggling to start his life, mom was struggling to end hers. And although my mom always told me she was never going to be a babysitting grandma, nor be called grandma, I know she and my son are tied together eternally. So when I’m rocking him in my arms, I talk to my mom constantly.
Habla con ella – Talk to her.
Katarina is speaking about her future ballet and says when a soldier dies, his soul rises from his body like a phantom, and that is the ballerina. The ballerina wears a tutu, white, classic, but it is covered in blood. From death comes life. From the masculine emerges the feminine. From earthly emerges the eternal, the impalpable, the phantom.
Like a Spanish friend told me – Alucinante! Se me ha puesto la carne de gallina. [Amazing, you have just given me goose bumps]