“Pain And Glory”  is a look by a cinematic legend at the story of a creative filmmaker who comes back from the dead.

I loved the film, which was made by the famed Spanish director  Pedro Almodovar and I loved the sublime acting by Antonio Banderas.

The movie is surprising and wonderful, very European in its subtlety, restraint, and softness, and in the almost achingly beautiful way in which it was filmed.

Whenever I see a movie by a European director, I think of the hyper-kinetic, teen-driven pace and style of American movies, especially in the Superhero Era.

I do love the beauty and space and contemplative quality of some films made elsewhere.

And I find myself loving movies about real-life with no car crashes or explosions.

Almodovar does things with color and background that just light up the screen and the experience of seeing his films.

They seem to breathe like a hospital respirator, and the feeling is surreal, almost mystical

The movie is about memory, imagination, and self-creation, especially when it comes to creativity.

Banderas plays a famed Almodovar-like film director in crisis; he is depressed, plagued with a dozen illnesses, struggling with the recent death of his mother. He has been unable to work in years.

Sometimes, he seems barely alive.

The movie runs through his maladies with graphic cartoons – his back was fused, he has migraines, asthma, and fits of terrifying choking.

When a friend offers him some heroin to smoke, he lights up and flirts with addiction. The heroin deadens him even more than his life.

He almost literally disappears from the real world, refusing work, interviews, and speech offers. He has descended, dreaming of beautiful and haunting images from his childhood,  poignant and idyllic flashbacks that pace the movie and brighten it when necessary.

This film has incredible balance and the feel of a master movie maker. The narrative centers on Salvador’s mother (played wonderfully by Penelope Cruz) and the screening of his first cinematic triumph – a movie called “Sabor” (whose poster evokes Almadovar’s movie posters).

Banderas also wears some of Almodovar’s clothes in the movie and styled his hair and beard after the director.

Salvador is uneasy with the screening and slides even deeper into torpor and paralysis. It’s like being in an emotional coma.

A powerful back story is the return to Madrid, where the movie takes place,  of a young lover, a man, who is able to awaken Salvador in a way no one else can.

Salvador is gay, a reality that strained his relationship with his deeply religious mother. But that love was long ago.

Salvador is getting old, and feeling even older.

Banderas does a beautiful job of reminding us that as messed up as he is, his will to create is still powerful.

The great thing about his acting is that he reveals himself mostly with his eyes.

The colors glow like fireworks or traffic lights and are visually hypnotic. The tone is almost meditative, as opposed to explosive and hysterical.

The movie never really turns the heat up or raises the volume to the deafening levels of so many American movies. I love the restraint in the movie, but also its wrenching emotional impact.

The movie kept me on the edge of my seat for two hours; I felt the emotion all the way through like a raging stream. But it was always implied and understated.

Salvador is fighting for his creative soul every minute. Two opening scenes set a tone. In the first, Banderas is at the bottom of a deep-blue swimming pool, either meditating or drowning; it isn’t clear. It did make me nervous, as it was meant to do.

Almodovar is known as a genius for skillful scene changes, and after the pool, the movie cuts to a young boy at a river where women wash clothes and then break into song.

It is a gorgeous scene, rich in beauty and feeling, the first of a number of scenes from Salvador’s childhood that run through the movie.

These scenes are a counterpoint to his lonely and painful devolution. In an interview, Banderas said Almodavor told him real actors never cry, they use their eyes. He took this advice.

I don’t care to give the ending away, but ultimately, I think “Pain And Glory” is a stirring testament to the never-ending struggle between creativity and life.

If you love movies, there is something very special about seeing one made by a master of the art.

Clearly, the film reflects some of the conflicts and agonies of Almodovar’s own life, but if creativity is a part of your life or passion, I don’t think you’ll ever see a deeper or more skillful look at the power or will of the Creative Spark.

(This week, I’m planning on seeing “Little Women.”)