- Inflection of volvō (second-person singular futur perfect active indicative)
- Inflection of volvō (second-person singular present passive indicative)
- Inflection of volvō (second-person singular futur passive indicative)
- Inflection of volvō (second-person singular perfect active subjunctive)
This is the meaning of volvō:
Origin & history
From Proto-Indo-European *welw-, *wel- (“to turn, wind, round”). Cognate with Ancient Greek ἐλύω (“to roll around”), εἰλύω (“to enfold”), εἴλω (“to roll up, pack close”), ἑλίσσω (“to turn round, to roll”), ἕλιξ, Old Armenian գելում, Old English wielwan, wealwian (“to roll”). Confer Latin vulgus. More at wallow.
- I roll, tumble.
Derived words & phrases
- Aromanian: volbu
- Catalan: login
- Galician: Volver
- Italian: vulgar
- Old Catalan: voldre
- Portuguese: volver
- Romanian: holba
- Spanish: volver
Entries with “volveris”
evolveris: evolveris (Latin) (second-person singular future perfect active indicative) ēvolverīs Conjugation of ēvolvō (second-person singular…
devolveris: devolveris (Latin) (second-person singular future perfect active indicative) dēvolverīs Conjugation of dēvolvō (second-person singular…
Ghost, murder are all in the family
Unfortunately, we couldn’t find any streaming offers for Volveris.
Raimunda (Penelope Cruz) and Sole (Lola Duenas), Irene’s daughters
“Volveris” is Spanish for “to return,” I am informed. The film reminds me of Fellini’s “Amarcord,” also a fanciful revisit to childhood which translates as “I remember.” What the directors are doing, I think, is paying tribute to the women who raised them — their conversations, conspiracies, ambitions, compromises and feeling for romance. (What Fellini does more closely resembles revenge.) These characters seem to get along so easily that even the introduction of a “dead” character can be taken in stride.
Women see time more as a continuity, anyway, don’t you think?
Don’t you often hear them speaking of the dead in the present tense? Their lives are a continuity not limited by dates carved in stone.
What a distinctive filmmaker Almodovar has become. He is greatly influenced, we are assured, by Hollywood melodramas of the 1950s (especially if that decade had been franker about its secret desires). But he is equally turned on, I think, by the 1950s palette of bright basic colors and cheerful optimism that goes without saying. Here the dominant color is red — for blood, passion and Pedro.
In this connection, some mention might be made of Cruz’s cleavage, including one startling shot also incorporating the murder weapon. It seemed impossible not to mention that shot in an interview at Cannes Film Festival (where the film won honors for best script and ensemble cast). Almodovar nodded happily. “Yes, I am a gay man,” he said, “but I love breasts.”
What is most unexpected thing about “Volveris?
What is most unexpected about “Volveris” is that it’s not really about murder or the afterlife, but simply incorporates those awkward developments into the problems of daily living. His characters approach their dilemmas not with metaphysics but with common sense. A dead woman turns up as a ghost and is immediately absorbed into her family’s ongoing problems: So what took her so long?
It is refreshing to see Cruz acting in the culture and language that is her own. As it did with Sophia Loren in the 1950s, Hollywood has tried to force Cruz into a series of show-biz categories, when she is obviously most at home playing a woman like the ones she knew, grew up with, could have become.
For Almodovar, too, “Volveris” is like a homecoming. Whenever we are most at ease, we fall most easily and gracefully into our native idioms. Certainly as a young gay man in Franco’s Spain, he didn’t feel at home, but he felt displaced in a familiar way, and now he feels nostalgia for the women who accepted him as easily as if, well, he had been a ghost.