Vicky Cristina Barcelona
Woody
Allen never watches his films after their general release, he has stated, and
one can only guess the extent to which the public’s enjoyment of his work
matters to him. Whether it matters to him or not is not important, of course,
on the contrary, long may he be resolute enough to make films for himself. For
that reason, Allen has a relatively exclusive profile in the commercial cinema
of the english speaking world, of an auteur whose large body of work is
distinctively his own. That said, the vision of
All things considered, and without wishing to be unduly dismissive, I suspect that Allen doesn’t have anything deeper to communicate here than what is superficially apparent and, that being the case, the film’s visual impact should take up this slack. There are some beautiful visual compositions here, suggesting that Allen, or his cinematographer, was inspired by the city, it’s surroundings, and it’s artistic heritage. I am thinking particularly of the picknicking cyclists on a verdant road, and the composition of ochre hues that makes up one character’s bedroom. Although tempting, it is perhaps too facile to accuse Allen of lazily perpetuating the supposed contrast between repressed East-coast Americans, on the one hand, and elemental and wayward Spaniards/Catalans, on the other. That would be to assume that Allen’s characters are representative of something greater than themselves, which is probably not the case given what we suppose is Allen’s concern with the superficial.
However, assuming that Allen has some deeper idea to communicate, what could that be? There is the film’s preoccupation with "Love". This is introduced almost immediately, when their various attitudes to the subject is presented as the defining difference between the two main characters. Shortly after this, we learn that Scarlett Johansson’s character has just made a short film whose subject is, a little incongruously, “the difficulty of obtaining true love”. The arrival of Javier Bardem’s character sets in train further contemplations on the nature of relationships and love.
There
are some funny moments, and Penelope Cruz’s performance stands out. She plays a
fiery and gifted artist, all bed-head and smudged eyeliner, initially mourning lost love
and, later, happier in unrequited love. Bardem’s character is not as
one-dimensional as we first think, and is also well-presented, but perhaps not
fully convincing. With what she has to work with, Johansson performs well, and her
friend, played by Rebecca Hall, portrays the Allen persona in female form. A slapdash flavour is highlighted
by the unlikely idea that Johansson’s filmmaker takes up photography only after
making a short film, and that her friend, pursuing a masters degree in Catalan
identity, doesn’t speak Spanish well. Allen’s choice of music is unchallenging
but enjoyable nonetheless. The title song, about