An old lady is drinking tea behind the window of a Madrid café.
Impeccable bun, houndstooth jacket, this aristocratic grandmother waits with some impatience.
She rolls up her sleeve and looks at her watch.
Her skinny, veiny wrist contrasts with the almost youthful enthusiasm and excitement she seems to feel.
Suddenly, the watch stops.
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Returning to her apartment, she discovers the lifeless body of another grandmother on the carpet in her living room.
She smiles.
A naked young woman emerges against the light from another room.
Blonde, desirable, she approaches the dowager.
Suddenly, the two women embrace, laughing and the title
Abuela appears
in yellow letters, chic and old-fashioned... The next moment, the screen is invaded by the sweet notes of a Spanish variety song,
Elegia al jardin de mi abuela
(reminiscent of the tube
Por que te vas
from Carlos Saura's film
Cria Cuervos
).
The transition is brutal.
From Madrid, we go to Paris.
The granddaughter of this strange...
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