Weekly Review -- The two Barcelonas

It just so happens that both films I have seen over this weekend take place in Barcelona; however, these two portrayals of the same city could not be more different. The journey takes us from the plentiful beauty of corporeal and natural aesthetics to the darkly urban, claustrophobic depths of human dread.


Vicky Cristina Barcelona (2008) -- Woody Allen's latest offering is a romantic drama that examines matters of the heart and the concept of soulmates, topics it peppers with elements of farcical comedy. Best friends Vicky (Scarlett Johansson) and Cristina (Rebecca Hall) arrive in Barcelona for a summer holiday and soon become romantically entangled with painter Juan Antonio Gonzalo (Javier Bardem), but the situation changes when Gonzalo's ex-wife, eccentric bohemian Maria Elena (Penélope Cruz), re-enters his life. The actors bite into Allen's juicy screenplay, relishing every word and every intellectually intriguing twist. Bardem and Johansson are excellent as the seductive painter and his new ingenuous muse, respectively, but it is Cruz and Hall that pull the emotional strings of this show. Cruz is a firecracker that keeps erupting; a fragile, messy beauty trying to survive in a world of too many rationalized contradictions. She is a force of nature, whose passion is as unstoppable as her art is expressive. Hall is subtle and vulnerable as a woman unable to reconcile her repressed longing with the truth about her real conservative self, one that she does not want to recognize. One could say that, in a sense, it is Gonzalo's charmer ways that act as the main catalyst for the two women's yearnings, and this is exactly where Bardem's paradoxically subtle masculinity serves its purpose. Hall's interactions with Bardem serve to reveal her character's much-too-traditionalist personality layer by layer, just like Cruz's interactions with Bardem serve to unlock the stunning allure beneath Maria Elena's illusory madness. These incredibly drawn out, detailed relations almost make us forget the initial relationship presented -- the one between the two friends, one that is slowly being shaken and stirred within the context of the narrative. Both Vicky and Cristina are using the vacation to attempt to find themselves in love and life; the problem is, neither of them has researched and come to know their personal, innermost identity first. It is ironic, yet appropriate, that Cristina should be doing a thesis on a topic so obscure as the Catalan identity, since it makes us wonder just how far removed she is from any reality outside of her own sheltered existence. Vicky, as the guileless temptress wannabe, gets another type of jolt from her affair; however, she is much too inexperienced to grasp any kind of love that does not focus on her own needs and that goes beyond her understanding. In the end, learn Vicky and Cristina do, and learn a whole lot; in the end, it is Maria Elena who is fully self-aware, recognizing her desires without being afraid to explore them deeper, all the while not compromising herself and her beliefs. One cannot take a closer look at this film without taking a closer look at its Spanish locales. The lush, archaic beauty of Spain -- Barcelona and Oviedo in particular -- leaves the impression of an ever-present, omniscient character, one that keeps a watchful eye over the romantic escapades of the protagonists. Vicky Cristina Barcelona is a cultured, evolved look at 21st century relationships, making us wish that more on-screen romances were just as clever as they were sexy.

10/10


[Rec] (2007) -- Dark, frightening and repellent are only three adjectives that one could use to describe this Jaume Balagueró and Paco Plaza collaboration. Young, take-no-prisoners reporter Angela Vidal (Manuela Velasco) is filming a report about a typical firefighters' night for her TV program. When a call concerning a holed-up elderly lady comes in, Angela and her cameraman Pablo (Pablo Rosso) hop along for the ride, not expecting a whole load of excitement, but hoping for a sensibly engaging story. What they get surpasses anything that they may have anticipated, as a routine emergency call turns into a night of otherworldly fear. The strength of [Rec] lies as much in its real-time approach and filming techniques, as it does in intense moments and the relatively plausible aspects of the story. The jump scares come at the viewer unpredictably and insatiably; the gore is sporadic, yet disturbing, in the most clinical, squirm-inducing sense. I can imagine how frightening this experience must have been for cinema audiences -- the claustrophobia alone will get you -- and I do not even want to imagine seeing the second half in a cavernous, inescapable space. The movie struggles when it attempts to be a stylistic and thematic combination of The Blair Witch Project and, for me, the far superior 28 Days Later, managing only to mutate into a neurotic offspring of the two. Some scenes are rather similar to certain parts of the latter film, although [Rec] leaves an impression of a visceral attack that is more raw and unpolished in regard to its aesthetics. The movie is better off when exploring the humanity of the individuals caught up in the inhumane, than while trying to imitate cinematic flair. The actors get embroiled in the panic, particularly Velasco, on whose hassled shoulders lies the responsibility of transferring the human experience to the audience, all within the chaos of the unknown. As a novelty, [Rec] is not exactly novel, considering its predecessors; as a film, however, it frequently taps into our deepest fears, using its minimalist elements to produce maximum dread.

7/10