Vicky Christina Barcelona

Titles are important. A title should be reflective and to a certain degree should also be ambiguous; leaving the viewer to decide for themselves what the film is going to be about and not spoon-feeding them what the subject of the film is going to be. Vicky Christina Barcelona is not one of those titles. In fact, I think the title is so weak that alternative titles should be ‘Woody Allen Makes Another Attempt at Trying to be Clever and Interesting but Fails Once Again’ or ‘Middle-Class Sniggering Perverted Sex Romp’.

The film itself was quite a mixed bag and I couldn’t decide whether or not I enjoyed it or not: there were parts where I thought that it was almost classic Woody Allen and found it genuinely quite interesting and mature, but then that was quickly outweighed by feelings of resentment and sheer irritation which emanated from the central characters as they squirm around the screen pretending like they’re happy and know what life means.

Although the characters are one-dimensional and irritating, I feel bad for them because they’ll never overcome their crippling neuroses and inadequacies. Of course, this is Allen’s entire intention, and to be fair, you’ve got to hand it to the man for making a film which explores thematic notions such as having wasted your entire life and never actually finding the right person for you and then to aim the film at a demographic consisting almost entirely of middle-aged and middle-class snobs.

The one-dimensionality doesn’t stop there though; right from the offset we hear voiceover. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not opposed to the idea of voiceover narration, on the contrary I find it work incredibly well (Adaptation, Johnny Got His Gun) and often downright beautiful (The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford). But when you literally explain the thoughts and feelings of your main characters through narration, you can’t help but feel like you’ve been condescended. The other thing is, if you use voiceover then pick your voice actor well and bear in mind his or her sole purpose is to speak to the audience directly, so don’t use someone who sounds like they’re trying to sell you home insurance or cleaning products. The narration had an overwhelming feeling like being in an advert created by the Barcelona tourism board.

However, it wasn’t all that bad and there were things I did like about it. Its use of colour was admiral and it sold the landscapes and surroundings well; giving a well-rounded emphasis on the artistic theme, even if it did feel at times like you’d just had a hose of brightly coloured paint sprayed all over your face for an hour and a half. I also enjoyed the way that Allen directed the camera, often subjecting us to meandering shots rather than using standard two-shots and point-and-shoot methods. In a sense, the cinematography was classic Woody Allen as it had a very European cinematic flare about it and this is what I’ve always loved about him.

In terms of plot, narrative and writing it was quite good, but the narration really let it down. It also felt like actions were happening too fast and you didn’t have time to catch your breath before the next event was happening. If it was slightly longer and more about the psychological mindsets of the characters and the repercussions of this on each other then it might have been slightly better and more interesting. I also found that the scene at the end with Juan Antonio, Vicky and Maria Elena which culminated in Vicky getting shot in the hand was a not-so-subtle combination of pointless flamboyancy and the strangest deus ex machina I’ve ever seen. It also had a strange reminiscence of the scene toward the end of Hannah and Her Sisters, in which Mickey nearly kills himself.

Vicky Christina Barcelona wasn’t as bad as I’m making it out to be, the problem lies with it though is that it only has some good things in it, it has some good camerawork, it has some good acting in it, it has some good directing in it, it has some good themes in it, but there just isn’t enough of it.