Movie Reviews

Movie Reviews: Vicky Cristina Barcelona

Woody Allen’s latest has been branded his sexiest movie to date, based on its lusty amalgam of an exceedingly attractive cast, ménage à trois narrative, and erotic European setting. Barcelona during summertime is a volatile environment teeming with amorous energy—in other words, the ideal locus for steamy holiday romance to unfold. I speak with authority, as I was living in the city when Allen and crew were in the throes of filming Vicky Cristina Barcelona. (Unfortunately, I caught nary a glimpse of Javier Bardem, Scarlett Johansson, or their equally fetching co-stars.) Like Allen’s other shooting environs of choice (London, most recently, and New York, of course), Barcelona bears a distinct personality, emanating energy that Americans might reductively call “spicy,” though it’s much more than that. Allen has a way of bringing out a city’s natural allure and painting it in vibrant cinematic hues. In most, if not all of his films, location is treated like a supportive cast member.

That’s certainly the case with Vicky Cristina, where the Catalonian capital serves as a libidinous pressure cooker for its female leads—Vicky (Rebecca Hall) and Cristina (Johansson), natch. As our omnipotent narrator explains, the American friends arrive in BCN for a diverting warm weather jaunt where they’re hosted by one of Vicky’s wealthy relatives (Patricia Clarkson). Vicky, who is engaged to a stable, if stale, New Yorker (Chris Messina), is there to do research for her Master’s thesis on Catalonian identity, while sexually charged Cristina seeks a passionate male diversion. While the women are out at dinner one evening, a chiseled painter by the name of Juan Antonio (Bardem) propositions them for a threesome, suggesting a weekend of wine, food, and communal lovemaking in the nearby town of Oviedo. Rigid Vicky is immediately turned off, free thinking Cristina immediately aroused, and it’s at the latter’s urging that they end up accompanying Juan Antonio on his trip. So begins an adventure of unexpected partner swaps that get more knotty when Juan Antonio’s tempestuous ex-wife—and fellow artist—Maria Elena (Penelope Cruz) shows up to wreak jealous havoc on the parties involved (after a suicide attempt, no less).

Attention shifts mid-film to the Bardem-Johansson-Cruz triumvirate of eroticism, with the actors playing up their character’s erratic traits and translating, pun intended in the case of Bardem and Cruz, Allen’s humor with fresh enthusiasm. While the trio is captivating, both aesthetically and dramatically, it’s Hall who shines, even though she’s more of a peripheral presence while Juan Antonio, Cristina, and Maria Elena try to work out the kinks in their love triangle. Some might peg Vicky as the fictional female rendering of Allen—jumpy, neurotic, and generally beset with nervous energy. But Vicky isn’t a cardboard cutout eccentric; Hall makes her humane and warms us toward Vicky’s plight, with every anxious tick conveying gradations of her dilemma. To stay with a fiancée she has half-hearted fondness for, or not? The answer doesn’t come easy, and Hall communicates that with comedy and affection.

So, what’s the verdict? Is Vicky Cristina Allen’s “steamiest” film outing yet? It’s sexy, yes, but there isn’t a lot of sex in the film, quite honestly. It excels as Allen’s best films do, as a study of relationships in all their awkward and honest glory. The movie is wont to fumble at times; it doesn’t satisfyingly flesh out the Bardem-Johansson-Cruz situation, wrapping up this story thread with some clumsiness. Luckily the film is compact, unfolding with the economic grace of a novella. It’s more thoughtful and intelligent than a frivolous beach read, but still a lighthearted summer romp. If fare like The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor left a bad taste in your mouth, then Vicky Cristina Barcelona is the refreshing cava tonic to help you wash it away.

— Heidi Atwal
08.14.08