Vicky Cristina Barcelona

Woody Allen’s new film takes a sharp turn. It’s a depar­ture from most of his other films in that neu­roses is for­eign, lit­er­ally for­eign, and per­haps more under­stand­able in that con­text. The most overtly neu­rotic char­ac­ter, Maria Elena, played by Penelope Cruz, is the vio­lently pas­sion­ate ex-​​wife of the artist Juan Antonio, played by Javier Bardem. The two main char­ac­ters, Vicky and Cristina, played by Rebecca Hall and Scarlett Johansson, are mildly con­flicted in com­par­i­son. The two American tourists, spend­ing their sum­mer in Spain, seem quite “nor­mal” in com­par­i­son to the hot-​​blooded Spanish duo who can’t live with or with­out each other. And that con­trast between the American ver­sion of nor­mal­ity and the Spanish ver­sion of liv­ing for the moment, a sort of tremendismo for artists, a ménage à trois for the Picasso in all of us, is the heart of the movie.

 

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Trailer for Vicky Cristina Barcelona

When Allen declines to star in the films he writes and directs, there is usu­ally one char­ac­ter who takes on his man­ner­isms, his erratic speech, ner­vous ticks and neu­rotic out­bursts. In this film, Allen puts that largely aside, though Rebecca Hall’s Vicky is prob­a­bly the clos­est thing to a stand-​​in. But she also evolves the most of any­one in the movie, chang­ing from con­tent­edly Middle Class and a bit uptight, to some­one ready to chuck it all to the tune of Spanish gui­tars and Bardem’s trans­par­ent charm. Woody is mostly Woody through­out his movies. Scarlett Johannson’s Cristina, on the other hand, starts the film as the more free spir­ited of the two friends, lives out her ide­ol­ogy of love in real time, and may or may not be thrown off that path when all is said and done.

In Allen’s movies about New York, we’re often left with a feel­ing that his world is not a place we would nec­es­sar­ily choose if we had that choice. Too stress­ful, in a halt­ingly funny sort of way. In Vicky Cristina Barcelona, the sights and sounds of Avilés, Oviedo and Barcelona draw us in, make us want to stay in that warm night air, hear the fla­menco gui­tar, eat the local cui­sine, and tour the mas­ter­pieces of the past and present. It’s as if Allen has taken a vaca­tion from the States him­self, shows us the life of ex-​​pats, and does not encour­age depar­ture any time soon. I think he’s say­ing that Spain does not make peo­ple neu­rotic (unlike New York), pas­sion­ate, all-​​consuming love does, and when you’re sur­rounded by the wealth of his­tory, art, music and the clash of civ­i­liza­tions that was Medieval Spain, what’s a lit­tle neu­roses between friends.

 

 

 

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