During the last two weeks, I’ve seen two movies with Paz Vega. One, “Sex and Lucía”, is about a waitress who falls in love with a writer after reading his first book, and convinces him to stay with her and learn how to love her. The other, Pedro Almodovar’s masterpiece, “Talk to Her”, in which she plays Amparo, the main character of the silent movie inside the movie that wakes up the sexual instincts of a virgin man who has dedicated his life to take care of the woman he loves.

In the silent movie, “Amante Menguante”, Amparo is a scientist who makes her boyfriend shrink until he’s so small that he’s able to get inside her and stay forever there, as a metaphor of the whole movie: it’s the ultimate attempt of getting inside the woman’s brain, and live there in order to communicate. In order to stop feeling lonely. In the case of Lucía, the story is a bit different. There, the lack of words make her relationship break, and her boyfriend become a stranger in front of her eyes. And only words will save them. The words that are written through a story that can be read until the middle, and from there change the way and start again. Even when they’re not written for her, but in a virtual reality in which he has found his dark past. So it’s his past, and his virtual and anonymous existence, that will make her undertstand him and what happened to them.

Communication is not only about words, even when most of the times is a good start. It’s about getting in the brain of the other even when it seems to be asleep, even when we don’t have faith of being heard. Because as shown in the silent movie, it ends up being a matter of being squashed or getting inside. And even when being squashed by Paz Vega doesn’t sound that bad, nothing is as good as making her smile for real.