Movie review: Vicky Cristina Barcelona

aka: Juan Antonio and the Three Women.

by John P. Meyer

Nobody can fascinate us with the pathology of dysfunctional individuals the way Woody Allen can. It's one of the things he's best at, and probably the most obvious one, since he's given up trying to make us laugh in any sort of overt fashion. That's not to imply his latest film is lacking in humor - far from it. It's just that the humor derives from a deeper, richer pool than that plumbed in his "early, funny ones."

Woody's latest film, Vicky Cristina Barcelona, finds the expat Big Apple writer/director emerging from his Anglophile period (which served up Match Point, Scoop and Cassandra's Dream) and relocating his film crew to Barcelona, Spain - thanks to a hefty chunk of funding put on the table by Spanish film distribution company Mediapro.

Woody and the Iberian milieu appear quite compatible, with the edgy character interaction which drives his narrative taking place against an aural background of Spanish guitar and framed visually by the architecture of Gaudi and the golden-lit charm of the northern Asturian countryside.

Our protagonists, Vicky and Cristina (Rebecca Hall and Scarlett Johansson - who shared screen time once before, in The Prestige), are college chums who've decided to make the most of their summer holiday by spending it with a family acquaintance in - you guessed it - Barcelona. During the taxi ride from the airport we benefit from an extensive narrative exposition on the girls' personalities, with Vicky depicted as the dogmatic pragmatist while Cristina comes off as a self-indulgent, somewhat petulant bohemian who knows less about what she wants from life than what she doesn't.

Vicky and Cristina's hosts - Mark and Judy Nash (Kevin Dunn and Patricia Clarkson) - are pleased to have the bright young ladies as guests at their comfortable estate. Judy wastes no time giving the girls a taste of the local social scene by taking them to a gallery opening. It's here - amidst the rumor and innuendo served up along with hors d'oeuvres and champagne - that Cristina catches the eye (and etc.) of the brooding and ruggedly handsome artist Juan Antonio (Javier Bardem). According to Judy, Juan Antonio's reputation as a tempestuous lover has been enhanced by a recent split with his wife, who - purportedly - stabbed him in a fit of passionate pique.

As the two girls take in dinner following the show, Cristina is thrilled to spy Juan Antonio at a table across the restaurant. Eye contact is unequivocally established, and to Vicky's discomfort the notorious artist/lover is seen to be making his way across the room to their table.

Juan Antonio's straightforward and refreshingly unambiguous pickup approach is the stuff of bodice-ripper romance novel legend; Cristina is charmed right off her figurative feet (having been predisposed in that direction), while Vicky espouses astonishment at this lothario's presumptive effrontery. Though perhaps she may be seen to be protesting too much.

Vicky establishes herself at this point as the closest thing to Annie Hall we've seen since the real Diane Keaton enchilada. Her rapid-fire sotto voce deprecation of Juan Antonio sets the stage for numerous repeat forays in that stylistic direction. Think of Ms. Hall's Vicky persona as the Woody surrogate in the cast, repressed and mildly neurotic though amusingly self-aware.

After traveling with Juan Antonio to the romantic north of Spain (as opposed to the equally-romantic Catalonian coast), Vicky and Cristina allow their would-be paramour to wine and dine them, after which the supremely-willing Cristina accompanies him back to his hotel room. But all is not well on the digestive front...

While Cristina recuperates in a hospital room, Vicky is more or less forced to hang out with Juan Antonio as he takes her on a tour of the countryside, highlighted by a visit to his father's home. This gentleman speaks no English (and Vicky speaks only pidgin Spanish), so Juan serves as translator; this position of implied trust serves to increase the intimacy that Vicky has begun to feel for her charming suitor (for that is what Juan remains, even though he has given up making overtures as a result of Vicky's expressed disinterest). Unsurprisingly, Vicky and Juan end up falling for each other. Literally.

But this romantic connection is destined to be a short-lived one. Furthermore, it's only one of a small universe of entanglements in eccentric orbit about the dynamic gravitational force of Juan Antonio. In fact, the remainder of the narrative follows the exploits of the constitutionally-rejuvenated Cristina as she undertakes the completion of the seduction process postponed by her illness - unaware, of course, that her friend Vicky has filled the intervening time slot with her own Juan Antonio-based dalliance.

In no time, Cristina and Juan are more or less blissfully cohabiting, his own artistic endeavors having inspired her to take up a camera and begin pursuing street photography - using the Leica with which Juan has gifted her.

Complicating this domestically tranquil arrangement is the prodigal-like return of Maria Elena (Penélope Cruz), the ex-wife involved in the notorious stabbing incident. To Cristina's surprise and initial discomfort, Juan allows Maria Elena to remain in the house. She (Cristina) is at first jealous of the attention Juan devotes to Maria Elena, who (he explains) is not capable of taking care of herself at present. It's clear that a bit of stabbing between friends (and lovers) is insufficient to keep them apart, and in fact may serve as some sort of desperate bonding mechanism.

Oddly, Cristina finds herself growing accustomed to Maria Elena's stormy presence, and even grows to like her. It doesn't hurt that Maria Elena encourages her in her photographic pursuits, complimenting her on her natural ability to frame things artistically while - Cartier-Bresson-like - capturing the decisive moment.

It's in the darkroom where Cristina and Maria Elena share their own decisive moment, involving an affectionate and moderately lingering kiss. From the ongoing conviviality of the tripartite household - and the explanatory narration (interwoven throughout the film, courtesy of Christopher Evan Welch) - we are made to understand that the three-way love affair proceeds swimmingly, to the mutual enjoyment and satisfaction of all participants. Until the dynamic changes.

Meanwhile, in the odd-girl-out corner, Vicky has renewed relations with her excruciatingly white-bread fiancee (Chris Messina, as New York yuppie Doug), with mixed results in terms of her personal satisfaction. As she prepares to leave Spain and return to a prescribed life of mediocrity, she can't resist paying a final visit to her hot-blooded Spanish paramour. Who may or may not be alone in the house...

The performances are stellar across the board, with Javier Bardem's display of laid-back unpretentious cupidity and Rebecca Hall's command of the archetypal disaffected-yet-ineffectual Woody protagonist as standouts. Ms. Cruz adds to her list of charismatic offbeat performances with her role here, as she does again in the forthcoming tragic romance, Elegy. And Ms. Johansson fascinates and infuriates as the mercurial Cristina, who seems to crave variety more than anything else in life. For her, the Chinese sentiment "may you live in interesting times" is no curse.

As trite as it sounds, there's something to be said for a change of scenery: in Woody Allen's case the move to sunny Spain seems to have recharged his creative batteries and reanimated his somnambulant filmmaking muse. Without belaboring the point, this is the most entertaining - and thought-provoking - film he's made in years.