Of the dozen-or-so Almodovar films I've seen, Matador is the least satisfying and most disturbing. "Disturbing," not as in provocative, but in revealing the director's infantile obsession with Eros and Thanatos--eroticism and death. It's treated merely as something to drag the viewer through, like Mike Leigh or Peter Greenaway would do...or Leos Carax at his most insouciant. Gratuitousness masquerading as something substantive. Stay away, unless you want to ponder the alchemical potentiality of mixing blood and semen. Ugh! Now, that is not to say that there aren't some good performances. But, I'll take Bunuel or Emil Jannings honestly examining how the 'release' and 'rupture in consciousness' in sexual arousal/fulfillment and violent passion are similar and how the confuse us--and the camera. Try Antonioni's "Desert Rose" or Val Lewton.
