Vicky Cristina Barcelona
Review by Jeffrey Overstreet | posted 8/01/2008
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In 2007's Oscar-winning thriller No Country for Old Men, Javier Bardem stormed across Texas as one of the most fearsome villains in film history—a big, bad wolf who could huff, puff, and blow down any house in his path. Even though it's a relief to see Bardem escape that horrible haircut and slip into some stylish shirts in Woody Allen's new "erotic comedy," Vicky Cristina Barcelona, it's tough to shake the memory of that indelible, terrifying performance.
And there may be a good explanation for that. After all, despite Bardem's impressive good looks, he's still playing the wolf. This time, he's even more dangerous—as Juan Antonio, he's a well-dressed wolf who gets women huffing and puffing with desire, whether they're promiscuous or principled. He's a devil who inspires his victims to enjoy, and even volunteer for, their own destruction.
Even Woody Allen seems enamored of this Latin lothario. He paints the ruination of these women in such romantic colors that, if we aren't smart enough, we'll end up falling for the seduction ourselves. Vigilant viewers will notice the pleasure that Allen seems to find in illustrating gullible, self-destructive women. And as he exploits the warm glow of Barcelona's art galleries and streetscapes, the natural beauty of the film's four gorgeous actresses, and Juan Antonio's Don-Juan charm, he makes Vicky Cristina Barcelona a dangerously seductive picture.
Newcomer Rebecca Hall plays the beautiful and somewhat-sensible Vicky, who is engaged to an off-puttingly practical young man named Doug (Cris Mesina, who bears an uncanny resemblance to the young Steve Gutenberg). Vicky's a graduate student developing an M.A. thesis on Catalan culture, so she's happy to accept an invitation to Barcelona from her wealthy friend Judy (Patricia Clarkson) and her husband Doug (Kevin Dunn).
Rebecca Hall as Vicky, Scarlett Johansson as Cristina
Vicky brings along her friend Cristina (Scarlett Johansson), a reckless beauty prone to plunging into promiscuous adventures. Johansson, who seems likely to catch up with Diane Keaton and Mia Farrow for frequent appearances in Allen's work, throws herself into this kamikaze role with shameless abandon.
Vicky and Cristina first encounter Juan Antonio in an art gallery, and Cristina is immediately smitten. Later, when Juan boldly proposes that both women accompany him on his private plane for a luxuriant weekend in Oviedo, indulging in art, food, and three-way sex, Vicky turns him down with the kind of rebuke he deserves. But Cristina taunts Vicky for her convictions and accepts the invitation.
And so the film's central (and simplistic) questions are announced: Which is better—to be like Vicky and strive for love in the context of marriage? Or to be like Cristina, throwing caution to the wind and following our lusts in search of adventure and excitement?
In this filmmaker's world, both characters are doomed. Allen seems to see women as pushovers, fickle, doomed to make mistakes and suffer severe dissatisfaction. But it's obvious, from the way he slows down and savors scenes of sexual abandon, which route he prefers to imagine.
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