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‘Hopefully the three of us’
Allen’s ‘Vicky Cristina Barcelona’ offers two sides of love
By Jason Corning
Infidelities are treated as necessary, lust is treated as love and fleeting ruminations on it all are treated as grand philosophical meditations.
In Woody Allen’s honey-hued vision of Barcelona artists are never starving, monogamists are always boring and the impossibly beautiful characters inhabiting the city are followed on their oh-so deviant exploits by an overbearing narrator employing Hemingway’s prose and a fairytale voice.
The audience is introduced to this world through the eager eyes of the title characters, Vicky and Cristina, played respectively by Rebecca Hall and Scarlett Johansson. The two are immediately introduced as obvious foils in their ideas on love. We see them riding in a cab after landing in Barcelona, on their way to the home of family friends who will host them for the summer. The audience discovers how Vicky is thoughtful and prudent in her relationships, while Cristina jumps headfirst into any and all potential affairs with wreckless abandon.
Unfortunately, this introduction comes in the form of a lengthy omniscient narrative as opposed to any serious dialogue. Allen continues to abuse this device throughout the entirety of the film in uncomfortable, inappropriate and in some cases, unintentionally humorous situations.
Through this narration we learn almost everything we need to know about the story. The character’s thoughts, intentions, and feelings about every situation are told to us as though we are reading a book with pretty pictures as opposed to viewing a film with actors and dialogue and room for interpretation.
The only extensive dialogue comes from the mouth of Juan Antonio (played with remarkable sensuality by Javier Bardem of “No Country for Old Men”). Juan Antonio is a famous painter in Spain, known both for his impressive talent and his intense relationship with his ex–wife, Maria Elena.
While dining at a restaurant one evening, the women are approached by Juan Antonio, who explains that he is captivated by their beauty and would like to escort them for the weekend to Oviedo, in the north. Predictably, Vicky is immediately put off and resists his charms, while Cristina gives him a look almost hot enough to excuse Johansson’s acting for the rest of the film. Juan Antonio counters Vicky’s reasonable objections with quick doses of philosophical balderdash concerning the brevity of our time on earth and the holiness of wine, bread, and anonymous intercourse.
Of course, because it is a movie, the women end up accepting Juan Antonio’s absurd offer, and so begins a tale of love, lust, and longing as only Woody Allen can tell it. Infidelities are treated as necessary, lust as love, and fleeting ruminations on it as grand philosophical meditations.
Though Penelope Cruz shines as Juan Antonio’s passionate ex-lover, the story never seems to muster quite enough interest to make up for Hall or Johansson’s acting, or the questionable ethics of Vicky’s eventual impulses.
In the end, the audience is left just as the characters are—stirred up and wondering, but ultimately unaffected. If one were to trust Allen’s ability to make films as he intends, then perhaps this desire for more is an intended one. After all, in the words of Maria Elena, “only unfulfilled love can be romantic.”
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