In the plains of La Mancha, it is said, the strong winds can drive you crazy. In this sleepy province of the Spanish heartland, women invariably outlive their husbands, and widows lovingly tend to their deceased spouses’ tombstones. It is a superstitious practice born from a belief that loved ones never die, which in the world of Pedro Almodóvar’s magical new film, “Volver,” may not be so crazy at all.

“Volver” means “to return,” and the recurrence of the past is the film’s major theme. In the movie’s fantastical logic, death, however inconvenient, does not bring an end to unsettled business. Restless souls can rise from the grave in search of closure, and ghosts can seem as real and as caring as sisters, daughters, and mothers.

As is often the case in Mr. Almodóvar’s inimitable universe, all the principal characters are women. The film opens with an all-female extended-family reunion. Raimunda (Penélope Cruz), her sister Sole (Lola Dueñas), and Raimunda’s daughter Paula (Yohana Cobo), all of whom live in Madrid, are in La Mancha to visit their mother’s (and grandmother’s) grave and the home of her sister, the elderly Tía Paula (Chus Lampreave), who is watched over by Agustina (Blanca Portillo), the next-door neighbor and childhood friend of Raimunda and Sole. It is not until the scene shifts to Madrid that we are introduced to a male character — Raimunda’s beer-guzzling, unshaven, soccer-watching, unemployed, and thoroughly brutish husband, Paco — and he doesn’t last very long. Within a few minutes, he is stabbed in self-defense by the teenage Paula, whom he insists is not his daughter and thus believes he has the right to rape. After this, a few men come and go, but none of them stay long enough to make a lasting impression.

Those familiar with Mr. Almodóvar’s madcap melodramatic style will recognize Paco’s bloody corpse as the opening gambit in a plot bound to feature several more unexpected twists and turns. Sure enough, as Raimunda zealously scrubs her husband’s blood off kitchen floor, Sole calls with news that Tía Paula has also just died.

Understandably distracted, Raimunda says that she cannot attend the funeral, which is scheduled for the following day. With Paula’s help, she drags Paco’s body to the abandoned restaurant next door, where she temporarily stores it in the freezer. The following day, she returns to the restaurant to move the corpse but is instead distracted by a handsome young man who asks if the restaurant is open and if the entire film crew he is working with can lunch there. And so out of death springs tantalizing opportunity: a new job and perhaps some romance.

Even bigger changes await Sole, who returns to Madrid from Tía Paula’s funeral to discover a stowaway in the trunk of her car. It is none other than the ghost of her and Raimunda’s mother, Irene (Carmen Maura), who, despite dying in a fire several years earlier, had been secretly taking care of her sister in La Mancha. With Tía Paula dead, Irene is like a newly liberated widow; finally, she can leave the provinces and be with her daughters in Madrid.

Fantasy and reality freely mix in “Volver,” as do tragedy and comedy. Horrific deaths by fire and stabbing give way to absurd crises concerning the tricky question of the disposal of the dead: How do you mop a floor of your husband’s blood, transport his unwieldy body, and give him a respectful, but secret, burial? How do you hide the ghost of your mother living in your apartment from those disinclined to believe in such things, including your own sister? And how do you reintroduce a painful past without damaging relations in the present?

“Volver” manages to treat big themes like incest, betrayal, murder, abandonment, mortality, and loneliness in a charmingly blithe, yet nonetheless serious, manner. This enchanting alchemy also translates to unforgettable details. Several still shots perfectly capture Mr. Almodóvar’s unique blend of earnestness and perverseness: a black tear — half saline, half eye shadow — staining Raimunda’s cheek; Paco’s crimson blood saturating paper towels and lovingly wrung from Raimunda’s mop; the endearing first vision of Irene the ghost as an unwittingly youthful, even hip, bag lady, wearing a light blue sweater and skirt, peppy knee-length stockings, and a head full of natty white-streaked hair.

And then there are the kisses. Whenever female characters meet, they great one another with a loud, juicy double-smack on the cheeks. It may be a ritual, but each kiss is so distinctive as to perfectly capture the relationship between the two characters.

True to its name, “Volver” marks several returns for Mr. Almodóvar. It brings him back to the theme of motherhood, which he has explored with great success in the past. It reunites him with several actresses from previous films, including Ms. Cruz and Ms. Maura, the latter last seen in his 1987 comedy “Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown,” which earned him an international reputation. It is also a return to the region of La Mancha, where the director was born and spent part of his childhood.

La Mancha, of course, is also home to another famous Spaniard, and his spirit is evoked in several scenes of a grassy plain lined with sleek, metallic three-fingered windmills. We see this setting when characters pass between the white-walled La Manchan village and Madrid; it marks an invisible portal between past and present.

In “Volver,” no one mistakes the tall, spinning forms for giants, but an equation is suggested between the romantic fiction of knight-errantry and the noble hysteria that animates Almodóvar’s women. And we are also left to ponder how the exalted whimsy of Spain’s greatest director is born from a similar willingness to suspend disbelief whenever reality is inadequate to our inner hopes and deepest sense of justice.

After Mr. Almodóvar’s three most recent films, all of them masterpieces — “All About My Mother” (1999), “Talk to Her” (2002), and “Bad Education” (2004) — “Volver” may seem like a minor work. It takes some time to get going, its magic is less thrilling, and its plot twists fewer and more disappointing than those of earlier standouts. But second-rate Almodóvar is still first-rate filmmaking. Even in a strong season, “Volver” is as good as any other movie you are likely to see this fall.