She slaps him. He doesn’t flinch.
After her lover abruptly ends their relationship, a voice-over actress finds her already chaotic life spiraling into a 48-hour whirlwind of accidental arson, spiked gazpacho, a terrorist ex-girlfriend, and a dozen anxious phone calls—all while trying to hold onto her sanity and the last working answering machine in Madrid. Part One: The Message Madrid, 1987. The city is a burst of neon, red tile, and cigarette smoke. women on the verge of a nervous breakdown movie
First arrives (20s), a bubbly, fashion-forward model with a tragic flaw: she’s in love with a terrorist. Not metaphorically. Literally. She’s just discovered that her new boyfriend, Carlos el Rati, is a wanted member of a radical Shiite group. She’s been driving his van, which, she now realizes, might contain more than just surfboards. Candela is hysterical, convinced the police are moments away. Pepa, too consumed by her own drama, offers her a Valium and tells her to lie down. She slaps him
“You’re a ghost,” she says. “You don’t love women. You love the beginning of women. And I’m tired of being a prologue.” Part One: The Message Madrid, 1987
The women walk out of the apartment, into the bright Madrid morning. The camera lingers on the broken answering machine, its wires exposed, silent at last. A taxi honks. A moped whizzes by. Life, loud and messy and completely unscripted, goes on.
Then comes (20s), Candela’s naive, sweet-natured friend. She’s tagging along for moral support but is mostly interested in Pepa’s collection of vintage horror movie posters.