Woody in Barcelona

Vicky Cristina Barcelona (Woody Allen 2008) is one of those charming ‘slice of life films’ where the consequences of their actions may not have lasting repercussions but the characters are changed by their unique experiences. Normality is rocked but equilibrium is restored at the end. (Significantly these films often occur as part of an overseas holiday or being taken out of everyday life, Sophia Coppola’s Lost In Translation (2003) being just one example).

Some may be thankful that Woody has moved away from the narcissitic desire to star in all his films while playing out all his psychoanalytic anxiety and neuroses. In this film he turns to the lives of two American girls, taking some time out in Barcelona, with very difficult ideas of love. Like all Woody Allen films, Vicky Cristina Barcelona has plenty of psychoanalytic fodder. For Woody fans, never fear, the neuroses are still there (particularly in the character of Vicky and her overanalytical diatribes, arguably a sign of repression).

The performances are charming, the dialogue is witty, and the Latin ‘love amour’ of Juan Antonio and Maria Elena is full of fire (irrational, emotional and flaming – just as a hot-blooded passion should be!). Barcelona, as the title suggests, is a character in itself and this please all those virtual tourists in the audience. Javier Bardem manages to avoid stereotypes playing the seductive Latin lover and despite the initial urge to dislike him, you can’t help being drawn into his world just like Cristina and Vicky are. Afterall, it looks so scrumptious, why wouldn’t you be?

When the narrator speaks you expect to hear Woody’s voice because you know it is him behind the scenes driving this narrative. Nevertheless that awareness of watching a contrived piece of art creates an important layer to the film. The narrator’s voice is well used, not only to keep the story moving but it creates an alienation to remind you this is just a story at the moments when you are tempted to become too engaged.

I like to think of the two female leads in terms of Kristeva’s melancholic. The melancholic is one who gets pleasure out of his secret heart of woe, out of being deprived of the fulfillment of his desires. To put it crudely, the melancholic gets off on loss. In particular this resonates in the character of Cristina who, as the narrator informs us “knows what she doesn’t want but is not sure what she is looking for”.

The melancholic links back to Kristeva’s foreigner. Cristina is literally the tourist in a foreign place but she also gives off the free-spirit sense of belonging nowhere, bathing in the absence that comes with failed love affairs, never learning Spanish so she can’t understand the conversations between Juan and his ex wife, having some unknown desire that can never be fulfilled, and perhaps delighting in her own melancholy. Interestingly she is opposite to Maria Elena in looks (blonde vs brown, American vs Spanish) and countenance (quiet vs fiery).

On the other hand, Vicky who knows exactly what she wants but throughout the film is forced to question her ideals. Through this and more explicitly the threesome that develops in Cristina’s life, the film questions the concept of heterosexual monogamy. Vicky’s fiancee is a tiresome bore, obsessed with material possessions - you can’t understand why she would want to spend the rest of her life with him. His potentially romantic gesture of marrying in Spain (to of course be reinforced by a properly elaborate wedding with all their family and friend in New York) instead seems contrived. It’s great to see Vicky, the pragmatic one, being tempted to throw her sensibilities aside.

But this film is also about people repeating the same destructive patterns (how Freudian!). All the characters are guilty of this. Cristina leaves what she has seemingly always wanted for no apparent reason (though arguably this cannot be sustainable in the real world so has to end) but in the context of her character it is plausible. Vicky resist the seductions of true passion in favour of her rational approach to “love”, doomed to middle class ennui. Juan Antonio can not helped being sucked back into the destructive patterns of his relationship with Maria Elena (perhaps hoping this time it will bring them happiness). And of course there’s peripheral character of Judy who tries to live vicariously through Vicky, only see her own pattern replayed.

And at end you cannot help wondering if people are afraid to let themselves be happy. Or perhaps this film just appeals to the melancholic in all of us!