Miss Cruz is so beautiful, in Almodóvar's hometown she's more beautiful than in any french, english, or bullshit movie. Just like the Spanish woman I imagined—surrounded by suffering, gorgeous, unable to shed tears but smiling like a dahlia.
The strong colors of Almodovar, why do I want Zhang Yimou to study? Everyone is red, yellow, and black. Mr. A has become Cruz's pepper, but Mr. Zhang is the pillar behind the chrysanthemum stage, mother's.
Men are damned, especially true for strong women.
Of course, our beautiful, good women wouldn't be strong without these damn men.
Salute to a woman, no woman no cry.
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