Pedro Almodóvar is the best known Spanish born director since Luis Buñuel, and likewise populates his films with surreal characters that poke fun of social norms. The synopsis of Dark Habits certainly appears typically Almodovarian. This 1983 film includes whores and drug pushing lesbian nuns, but is far drearier and lifeless than Almodóvar’s best films. Essentially soulless and heartless, Dark Habits outlines a film plot that should be a helluva lot more fun, considering how the legendary Spanish director has used similar characters to great delight in Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down!, Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown, and All About My Mother. The stripped down script comes across more like an overly theatrical depiction of counter cultural stereotypes, of interest only to Almodóvar aficionados that want to trace his development.

The first Almodóvar film readily available in DVD in the U.S., Dark Habits revolves around Madrid nightclub singer Yolanda Bel (Christina Sánchez Pascual), who seeks asylum from the police after delivering strychnine-laced heroin to her boyfriend. Although not religious, Yolanda is fortuitously led to the Order of Humble Redeemers convent, led by Mother Superior Julia (Julieta Serrano). Julia is overjoyed on two accounts: she loves Yolanda’s singing and her order needs “customers.” The convent hasn’t redeemed anyone lately, and Julia now hopes for a return to their former prominence in assisting the destitute: "This will be full of murderesses, drug addicts, prostitutes—just like before. Praise be to God!"

Without clientele the little order is threatened with extinction. Their prime financial supporter, the haughty and greedy Marquise (Mary Carrillo) plans to cut off their annuity since she feels less affinity with the sisters than her now deceased husband, who set up the fund in gratitude. The convent had taken in their wayward daughter, who subsequently became a nun and ran off to Africa, only to be eaten by cannibals. Not about to be closed down for lack of funding, the Mother Superior plans a lame blackmail scheme and also agrees to traffic heroin.

Each of the nuns has a backstory alluded to through their idiosyncrasies. To reinforce their vows of humility, the Mother Superior has given them repulsive new names. Sister Sewer Rat (Chus Lampreave) secretly writes smutty romance novels about her comrades and former wards under a pen name. Sister Manure (Marisa Paredes) shoots smack into her veins and fantasizes about penitence while Sister Damned (Carmen Maura) compulsively cleans the convent and cares for their full grown pet tiger. Sister Snake (Lina Canalejas) fashions seasonable gowns for the Virgin Mary which may be influenced by her frequent LSD hallucinations, shared a couple of times with Almoldovar's psychedelic camera palate.

Symbolic of their desire to find moral purpose in the midst of their current destitution, the sisters assign the “forbidden cell” to Yolanda--the most hedonistic appearing room in their crumbling convent that once hosted the Marquise’s daughter. Adding a measure of tension is the knowledge of the unrequited lesbian love that draws the Mother Superior towards Yolanda’s songs.

Essentially, the synopsis provides the best portions of the project, illustrating a universe gone astray with hypocrisy. The idea of truly sympathetic nuns who forgive sinners because they equal or surpass their unholy indulgences sets up a humorous situation, but it falls short. None of the characters engages like so many of Almodóvar's future projects will do, so we can chalk this up to lack of experience. When fleshed out, these quirky personas can truly delight. Consider how human and sympathetic Almodóvar makes Talk to Her's nurse despite the fact that he commits a horrific act. Any of the sisters could perform the same function in Dark Habits, but they remain as restrained as the uncharacteristic muted color palate of the set design.

Hints of Almodóvar's artistry can be found, from his characteristic themes to his inventive camera angles. No thorough study of the Spanish director can afford to leave this film off his repertoire, but Dark Habits should never serve as introduction to Almodóvar's work. Far too uneven, droll, and flat to be considered representative, later films use far more vibrant primary colors to match the lively personalities. Mark this melodrama strictly for film scholars and Almodóvar fans who must explore his entire canon. Virtually any Buñuel film can substitute if you demand quirky, surreal anti-religious cinema fare, so that's the major difference between the two Spanish directors. An inferior Buñuel film is better than the best that most directors offer, so it's to Almodóvar's credit that one of his weakest films is compared to Buñuel's most banal.