A Review of the Movie Where Scarlett and Penelope Bang (Why Have You Not Heard About it?)
By Matt Nathanson | August 27, 2008
Category: The Wasteland
This movie has threesomes!
In Vicky Cristina Barcelona the titular city itself shines with that golden, post-coital glow of lovers side-by-side (by side). Although Penelope Cruz comes close, the city itself serves– as the Big Apple serves to almost every other Woody Allen film – as the real character here. Vibrant, pulsing with life and smart-cars through its veins, bathed in light and nacreous municipal artwork, Barcelona is (or is made to be?) a place where bicycle rides to pick fresh blackberries and long, never-sweaty sessions of “sensitive” bisexual love is just sort of all in a days work. It is a fantasy lover, the city is – attractive from every angle, full of possibilities that you can’t get at home. If you are a Europhile, or even someone who like me has a mild, occasionally stirred interest but not much experience, the movie is worth a glimpse.
Hearing it, however, is another story. It was hard for me to overlook the pedantic, over-serious narration that summarizes action that, had the script been more expertly written, would either have been apparent anyway or have not mattered at all. A good example is when the doofy narrator chimes in with something to the effect of “Then they had a conversation in a fruit store, while the clerk was in the back taking a phone call” and then proceeds to show two characters having a conversation in a fruit store, the clerk no where in sight. I don’t see how the narration help us here, and unfortunately there are too many of these moments. Sure, it whisks us through exposition at lightning-pace so we can arrive at the ménage a trois faster (and there’s nothing wrong with that), but there are other narrative techniques in the screenwriter’s arsenal to take us through time. I sort of am generally suspicious of narration in a movie like this, character-driven sexual intrigue drama or whatever the hell this is, but especially so when the narration adds nothing that the acting – had it been better – wouldn’t have told us.
But while I blame Scarlett and what’s-her-name-brunette for a sort of staleness, and I firmly believe Woody is no where near his screenwriting best, the movie is salvaged by excellent performances by Javier Bardem and especially Penelope Cruz. Their characters are not what you’d expect in a Woody Allen film in that, while instead of being neurotic, they approach an almost hilarious psychosis – something my grandmother would have called “bat shit insane.” Given to intense flights of violent emotion, masters of a Jackson Pollacky painting style that involves literally beating up your canvas, lost in the worst parts of avant-garde hedonism, these people are truly hopeless. Although she does a shit-poor job of conveying this through her tepid performance, perhaps this is the ultimate realization that drives Scarlett’s character away from her latin lovers: they aren’t enlightened at all, they are just really, really crazy.
What I find is interesting is this new kind of sexiness Woody has been exploring in his new “European” films, and by that I with no small amount of reductionism mean this and Match Point (Scoop and the ignored follow-up that I saw but don’t remember at all…Cassandra’s something or other…are almost aggressively too unimportant to consider). The Woody Allen male lead of the past is nebbish, intellectual rather than passionate, neurotic. He is a sheep, using brains not brawn to charm the ladysheep to the sack (or wherever sheep bang…perhaps on a tuffet?). Now men are wolves, stalking their prey and literally shooting to death those that get in the way. While maybe Juan Antonio here doesn’t have the cold-blooded murderousness of Match Point’s lead, the same almost sinister sexuality is in play. Women are prey, not Hellenic symbols of affection or grace. Maybe when you are approaching eighty your world view changes. Or maybe this is the sexual ambition always behind the nervous vacillation, and it takes the bluntness of old age to craft a character like Juan Antonio, who can shamelessly request from two supple twenty -somethings that they have a threesome.
So what if its “wealth pornography,” as so much of Allen’s work has been called. What’s wrong with pornography? Ultimately, it’s a middle-of-the-road Allen pic, which is a lot better than most critics would probably grant. My buddy I saw it with ranks it up with Deconstructing Harry and Small Time Crooks, and I think that’s about right. While it is impressively visual and rich in intelligence, ultimately there isn’t much to say. In the end, the characters return to their “real lives” away from Spain and back to the grey morality of privileged living. Maybe Scarlett knows a little more about “what she doesn’t want,” as the narration informs us in a rare moment of actual succinct beauty, but ultimately little knowledge is imparted. Nobody changes. Everything is as it was.
All the beautiful Spanish guitar in the world, and still no clue about life.
August 27th, 2008 at 2:16 pm
I have to say, I disagree about the uselessness of the narration.
I think with these quite intrusions Allen is trying to invite us to a baccanal-like banquet via a quickly phrased invitation: This character is this, this character is that, here they are- let’s have some fun.
The narration set ups the pretty snap shots, like the ones ScarJo’s character is so intent on using to find some truth in the neo-Rococo city.
By getting us through the meat of these characters so quickly we’re able to see their most charming, steaming, interesting interactions with as little extraneous exposition as possible. Woody clearly loves this city, and his interest is mainly in getting to its romance ASAP. I have to say I concur and think that choice was a good one.
Here, though, I must add that not only the narration, but the entire scene which involves the Spanish language classmate is useless and should have been cut.
Another note, Cruz is fantastic in this movie and really makes it a must-see in my mind.
Finally, one rant: the sex scenes suck! Why does ScarJo wear a bra while having sex, but is naked while sleeping? Has anyone known a girl that refuses to have sex without a bra on? Ever? Outside of a sheet-fucking family? Will she just show her breasts so that these scenes don’t continue to be awkward and obnoxious or can Woody just agree she’s not that great an actress and move on with Cruz as his new muse- I’ve already seen her breasts!