My second film in Cannes, and it's great to see the New Woody Allen has found his feet.
After a faltering start to his European re-invention with Match Point, Vicky Cristina Barcelona is an intelligent and accomplished piece of work, and a hugely enjoyable watch.
Two American tourists, played by Scarlett Johansson and Rebecca Hall (say who now? British actress, who was in Starter for 10 and The Prestige) escape to Barcelona for a summer of love. Very different kinds of love, as the all-knowing but unidentified narrator explains: Scarlett's character Cristina is a wannabe-bohemian looking for adventure, and edgy, dangerous romance. Hall's newly engaged Vicky is there to explore her love of Catalan identity, while counting the days before returning to her materialistic but fairly sympathetic fiance.
The die is cast on their first night out in Barcelona, when they are approached by brooding, swarthy, Latino artist Juan Antonio, played with relish by Javier Bardem. His larger-than-life racial stereotype combined with the fact we know Scarlett Johansson is looking for exactly what he's offering makes for some hilarious dramatic irony and knowing comedy.
Bardem makes the girls an offer they ultimately can't refuse, and the film really gets going.
Enter Penelope Cruz, another exaggerated character playing on the personas she's created in previous films, but stopping short of parody. She is a woman possessed, enraged, full of anger and creative emotion - for good and for bad. Her dialogue and chemistry with Bardem is perhaps the most enjoyable and original element of the film - their Spanglish rows perfectly capturing the clash of cultures, and all credit to the director for allowing them the freedom he clearly has with the script and language.
Not to give too much away, the plot that follows is a messy love square that twists and turns, producing buckets of angst and neurotic analysis, mostly from the American contingent, although Cruz's outbursts more than compensate on the Spanish side.
The headline-grabbing talking point of the film is the lesbian stuff between Johansson and Cruz, which is less titillating than intriguing, and fits entirely with the direction and mood of the movie.
Like Manhattan, and, to a lesser extent, London in Match Point, the city of Barcelona plays an active role in the film, and the director goes a bit doe-eyed over the honey-sunshine-drenched Gaudi architecture and surrounding countryside. But it is the perfect setting for the culture-clash themes, and the invasion of the American tourists throws up all sorts of fascinating cultural differences and similarities debated through the characters.
Some people aren't going to like the voiceover - it's a very easy exposition device that remains unexplained. It'll frustrate and disappoint some, but frankly it is necessary and it didn't bother me a jot.
So yes, this is Woody Allen 'doing' Almodovar, but what he's created is no pastiche. It's an original and successful character comedy that's finally banished the ghost of the Allen we know and love in front of the camera, by effectively channeling his neuroses into fresh characters.
