Surreal even for him

Insomnia has been plaguing Spanish director Pedro Almodovar since he arrived in L.A. Monday night.

By Thursday, he was so frazzled he forgot to change his socks from light sheer to opaque black.

Aboard the limousine en route to the Silver Lake mansion known as the Talmadge House, where a “peace” party was scheduled, he sighed, “I suppose I just won’t sit down.”

For the Oscar-nominated Almodovar, the week has been full of mini-collisions between the seemingly absurd details of quotidian life in Hollywood and the reality of war.

On Tuesday, when it was announced there would be no red carpet at the Academy Awards, Almodovar was being fitted for his tuxedo at Armani (where “The Hours” author Michael Cunningham and “Unfaithful” co-star Olivier Martinez just happened to be ensconced too).

“Suddenly,” said Almodovar, recounting the scene in Spanish, “the woman in charge of the fitting came out, nearly sobbing, ‘I can’t believe it! I can’t believe it! Oh my God, what are we going to do?’ It was as if there had been an actual tragedy. And I thought to myself, ‘This is the first American victim of the Iraq war -- the fashion houses of Los Angeles.’ ”

To Almodovar, an outspoken critic of the war in Iraq who is up for best director and best original screenplay for “Talk to Her,” Los Angeles seems even more surreal than usual this week.

In normal times, he finds Hollywood’s obsession with celebrity annoying. In a time of war, he finds it grotesque. “The Oscars and the war will always be at odds,” he said. “Everyone feels very strange about it.”

It is particularly bizarre for Almodovar, who led a massive antiwar protest in Madrid last month and was one of many Spanish celebrities who spoke out against the war at the Goya Awards. Almodovar says the Oscars should go on -- but in a sober, tasteful manner that acknowledges the war waging abroad.

“It’s a perfect platform for people to speak their mind,” Almodovar said of the televised ceremony, which is beamed to millions worldwide. “But people here seem afraid to do that.... In Europe, you don’t have the fear of revenge from the audience. I get the chills just thinking about that.”

He was exercising on the stationary bike in the hotel when President Bush announced the launch of the war on Wednesday. Those images of Baghdad in the early-morning hours will stay with him forever, he says.

“That soft, bluish dawn light was so beautiful and the streets were empty as if everyone had just left for a long weekend,” he said. “It reminded me of one of my favorite movies, ‘The Thief of Bagdad’ [1940 version, of course]. And I thought, ‘I wonder what [the Iraqis] are doing right now? Are they eating breakfast? Are they turning on the lights? Do they know what is happening?’ ”

He marveled at how American culture is so saturated with cinematic references. Even on the television broadcasts, Almodovar says he is confused with the term “showdown with Iraq.”

“I mean that word, ‘showdown,’ doesn’t that come from all the western movies?” he asked.

On Thursday, the limo wound its way through Los Angeles rush hour traffic from West Hollywood to the 1920s mansion where Jimi Hendrix is said to have lived at one time. The Moorish-style house sat on a hill, clearly visible from TV klieg lights and flashes from still cameras along the entrance.

“Pedro! Pedro! Pedro!” the paparazzi shouted, seizing the chance to shoot along a red carpet, any red carpet.

As he worked his way along, Almodovar was asked by every organization covering the event -- CNN, BBC, “Entertainment Tonight,” Canal Plus and German television -- about the war and whether the Oscars should go on.

“I’m a convinced pacifist,” he told one television reporter.

But he froze when a reporter from “Extra” asked him to look into the camera and send a message to the troops.

“Oh,” he inhaled uncomfortably. “It is very difficult for me to say,” he said in broken English.

“It’s OK, you can say it in Spanish,” she insisted.

“Oh, I can’t really, but thank you,” he demurred.

Away from other reporters, he whispered, “I would have told the troops to come home.”

As he entered the estate -- with its cathedral-like vaulted ceilings decorated with paintings of Christ, the baby Jesus and the Madonna framed by tiny golden angels -- guests stopped him.

One woman said his movie “just made my heart sing.”

A thin man with a shaved head and double pierced ears with large silver hoops rushed up to him. “Hello, Pedro,” he exclaimed. “I’m an artist!”

“I believe it!” retorted Almodovar.

A woman from Australia representing a cultured-pearl jeweler tried to persuade guests that pearls were perfect for the Oscars -- not excessive like diamonds. Others wandered around the home, gazing in awe at its extravagance: the lighted swimming pool with a dozen spouts ringing it like a fountain, carved lions decorating ceilings and fireplace.

Cliff Rothman and Xorin Balbes, who founded the organization Global Vision for Peace, which sponsored the party, rushed over with a “peace pin.” But as Almodovar placed the silver trinket on his lapel, the pin snapped off the body of the dove.

“Peace is very fragile,” he noted as he looked at the broken pieces in his palm. The organizers rushed to find him a sturdier pin -- this time in gold.

Almost none of the promised stars showed up -- no Susan Sarandon or Jessica Lange, Almodovar lamented.

But he perked up when U.N. representative Gillian Sorensen spoke on behalf of U.N. Secretary-General Kofi Annan. “It is a moment for those of us who are committed to peace not to quiet our voices, but to speak up for peace,” she said.

Drew Barrymore then got up to recite a long letter from the Dalai Lama. And Rothman followed her, noting half-jokingly to any celebrity who might have been listening: “You too can read this message, but be prepared if your career is over tomorrow.”