According to IMDB, the film All About My Mother is 101 minutes long. This newly staged version of the Almodovar classic was at least 30 minutes longer. The extra stuff added is just extra stuff. Much like many of the screen-t0-stage adaptations of recent years, this story suffered from the square-peg-in-the-round-hole syndrome. Even though there are theatrical elements inherent to the story (we're often backstage at A Streetcar Named Desire), All About My Mother is cinematic any way you look at it. Almodovar's eye is as potent as his voice and to have well intentioned theater artists attempt to recreate his magic live onstage is a virtually unattainable feat. New monologues delivered directly to the audience left me confused and the constant location hopping made the play seem too busy and ungrounded. Another rabble of amazingly talented Brtitish actors give it their best, including the dry as gin Diana Rigg and the passionate Lesley Manville (pictured), but unfortunately without Almodovar's obsessive close-ups they were doomed to be ersatz to their cinematic counterparts . I paid 25 pounds to be reminded that I need to revisit the film.