Fast chat: Pedro Almodóvar

You wouldn't necessarily think Pedro Almodóvar is Pedro Almodóvar. The acclaimed Spanish director of such edgy, sexy, unpredictable films as "Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown" and "All About My Mother" (which won an Academy Award for best foreign language film) should look more angular, somehow, or sinister. But here he sits, in a suite at the swank Peninsula Hotel, stirring coffee with an affable smile, white fluff of hair like a Q-tip -- more "Sesame Street" Muppet than master of melodrama.

But that idea -- that one's outward appearance is never, or less and less so these days, a sure indicator of a person's true identity -- is exactly what the Spanish director explores in his latest film, "The Skin I Live In," a Hitchcockian thriller starring Antonio Banderas. It hits Long Island theaters Nov. 4.

Banderas and Almodóvar are amigos from way back, having worked together on four previous films. In "Skin," Banderas plays a plastic surgeon haunted by his past, working to create a new form of skin impervious to burns. A suave Frankenstein -- and as in the classic . . . things go awry.

Almodóvar, who lives in Madrid, met with Newsday contributor Joseph V. Amodio, accompanied by a translator. He answered some questions in Spanish, some in English.

So how did you dream up this idea about skin?

Skin is the largest organ. Race can be expressed through skin, and emotions. So until recently skin was something that could really identify humanity in very specific ways. But now it's become this very malleable thing, through plastic surgery. . . .

Or this "synthetic skin" in your movie?

That might seem like science fiction. But it's already happening, at least in Spain -- the cultivation of artificial skin.

Why did you decide to do a thriller?

Like women of a certain age, who start to cut their hair shorter [he chuckles] . . . as I entered my 50s I started watching a lot of thrillers and film noir.

Any favorites?

Fritz Lang . . . Jules Dassin . . .

Hitchcock?

Oh, absolutely. Hitchcock is . . . perhaps the director I most admire. The way he mixed the thriller with a sense of glamour is very interesting. And the humor in his films. Or his interest in the women in his films -- slightly . . . uh . . . corrupt and perverse. I mean he was completely in love of Tippi Hedren, of Vera Miles. Not Kim Novak. He didn't want Kim Novak for "Vertigo," because he was in love of Vera Miles. Then Vera Miles commit the crime to be . . . pregnant. And he never forgive her for that.

Remember your first Hitchcock?

I think it was, uh, "El Hombre que Sabe Demasiado."

"The Man Who Knew Too Much."

With Doris Day and James Stewart. I'm always fascinated by it. And "Vertigo." But "Vertigo" is different. There's not a lot of humor -- it's passion . . . and obsession. In "Vertigo," I identify with James Stewart, the way he wants to construct this woman -- the way she dresses, speaks, puts her hair up. Like a director. This is what I do when I'm preparing the character with, say, Penélope Cruz. I remember I was especially hooked . . . uh, let's say . . . physically . . .

She's starred in several of your films. Mmm, perfecta.

Yes, it's very difficult not to be attracted to her. [He laughs.]

You last worked with Antonio Banderas 20 years ago -- has he changed?

Well . . . he has a family, he's a father, he's 50, but he didn't change in his generosity. He was the same -- joking to the crew all the time. We felt as if time hadn't gone by. He plays a passionate person, but he's obsessed and crazy. So we had to empty him out of emotion. No expression. That was new for him.

I heard when you were little you were called a "fabulador"?

This is true. [He chuckles.] "Fabulador" is like a storyteller. When I was like 8, my two older sisters and I would go to the movies. The next day, they'd say, "Pedro, tell us the movie we saw last night." And I'd start, but change everything. They were fascinated. When I went to Madrid, I was 16 or 17. I wanted to go to film school, but it was closed by Franco. When I could get enough money, I bought a Super-8 millimeter camera, and I start shooting every weekend. In daylight -- because it was cheaper. And easier. And that was my school. So . . . uh, oh, please forgive . . . this unperfect Eengleesh.

I wish I could remember more of my high school Spanish.

No, it's my problem. I should speak English. I'm in New York -- it's my duty to learn.

Well, that's, uh . . . una idea Americana que todo el mundo . . . um. . . . It's an American idea that all the world . . . how do you say "should"?

Debe . . .

. . . debe hablar inglés. That all the world should speak English.

Sí, pero está cociendo, eh? [Translation: Yes, but, you're cooking, eh?]