Woody Abroad: Vicky Cristina Barcelona
David Begelman
Maybe
it’s no accident that Woody Allen films like Match Point and his latest, Vicky
Cristina Barcelona, are such successful ventures, whereas Scoop, a film that came between the two,
was more or less a dud. Ironically, the director appeared in a major role in Scoop, but not in the other two films. The quality of Woody’s work nowadays
seems immeasurably better when he puts himself behind the camera, rather than
in front of it. It’s as though the Annie
Hall era has been over for some time. Self-casting in roles with one-liners
smacking of stand-up comedy routines may have worn thin as a continuing chapter
of modern cinema.
At
first blush, Vicky Cristina Barcelona
seems to be just a comedy about American tourists abroad in Spain. Looks can be
deceiving. It is actually a more complicated film than Match Point. The latter is about the sticky predicament of a murderer
who evades justice by chance. (One of the graphic images in the film symbolizes
the indeterminacy of outcome: a tennis ball teetering on the edge of a net,
unsure about which way to fall).
Vicky Cristina Barcelona, a comedy of
manners, dwells on the way love is loosened
up in exotic circumstances. Yet there is another theme implicit in its narrative.
Are novel love entanglements signs of liberation or personal imbalance? Are
they manifestations of a new sexual freedom or symptoms of going haywire? And
how do we tell these apart?
In Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream, there
was no quandary over dramatic purpose; the unsettling aspects of love gone flukey
had to be relieved and equilibrium restored. In Woody Allen’s movie, you’re
never sure whether love’s confusions steer its principals in the right or wrong
directions. And its characters all ask themselves the same question: “Am I
where I should be, or just plain wacky?” Vicky
Cristina Barcelona isn’t a comedy of errors; it’s a comedy about whether
what happens in love is an error to begin with.
The
plot revolves around two friends, Vicky (Rebecca Hall) and Cristina (Scarlett
Johansson) who, at the invitation of Vicky’s relative Judy Nash (Patricia
Clarkson) and her husband, Mark (Kevin Dunn) are on summer vacation in
Barcelona, a gorgeous, ochre-hued Spanish city. The film is graced by the lush
cinematography of Javier Aguirresarobe, and there is a voice-over by a narrator
(voice of Christopher Evan Welch), who describes the ongoing action throughout
the course of the film. Performances of principal actors are beautifully
nuanced, and at a high level of achievement—thanks to the director.
The
two women are distinguishable types. Vicky is a staid, somewhat conventional
woman with academic interests. (Her attraction to Barcelona is inspired by her fascination
with Catalonia, especially the works of the architect Gaudi.) Her commitments
are all in place, as well as the one to her fiancé, Doug (Chris Messina).
Cristina is quite different. She has just had a disappointing love
relationship, is unsure of what she wants in life, and has little sense of
achievement, except having recently completed a short film about—wouldn’t you
guess?—love.
At
a restaurant, the two eyeball an artist, Juan Antonio (Javier Bardem), an
attractive man they remember seeing at an art exhibition earlier that day. The
three exchange glances, after which Juan Antonio approaches their table.
Without the drawn-out preliminaries that would distinguish an American approach
to hitting on two women, he summarily invites them to fly with him to Oviedo
for a night of fun and love making. Cristina is up for what seems to her to be
a novel and enticing adventure, whereas Vicky initially protests the outrageous
idea. Yet they both find themselves acceding to the plan, whereupon everyone’s
world starts to change, and at breakneck speed.
Vicky’s
erstwhile composure is shattered after a night of lovemaking with Juan Antonio
(a secret she keeps even from Cristina), while Cristina later moves in with him.
Into Cristina’s world of new enthusiasms steps Maria Elena, Juan Antonio’s
former wife (Penelope Cruz). Maria Elena has recently attempted suicide, and
out of concern for her (or emotional enmeshment, depending on the spin you put
on it) Juan Antonio brings her home to a love-nest already in place. Maria
Elena’s stability seems to strengthen as she gets to realize that the
attraction among the threesome is just what the doctor ordered. They all draw
closer together, even sexually, as Christina’s talent as a photographer
blossoms. (Woody’s ode to the relationship among love, liberation, and creativity?).
The
plot continues to thicken as lovers reprise their trysts and separate again. The
soufflé has risen in a stunning moment of culinary delight before flattening down
to an ordinary existence.
Woody
Allen admitted that Vicky Cristina
Barcelona fulfilled his fantasy of becoming a European filmmaker. For some
time now, he has enjoyed more popularity in Europe than at home. For one who
has already gone through his Godard, Truffaut, Fellini, and Bergman phases—not
to mention in this film a hint of Pedro Almodóvar—the home away from home must
continue to be appealing. But in a rare moment of soul-searching, Allen also
admitted that the only place he ever really wanted to be is in his bed. Considering
this filmmaker’s prodigious output, not likely.
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