Vicky Cristina Barcelona

 

Director Woody Allen

director on the set

Scarlett Johansson with Woody

Rebecca Hall with Woody

Bardem and Cruz with Woody

Woody on the set

VICKY CRISTINA BARCELONA                         B+                                                        Spain  (96 mi)  2008  d: Woody Allen

Preserving the template of previous Woody Allen movies, it is no secret that Woody can steal from the best of them, including himself (!), as this attempts to resurrect the romantic comedy magic of Annie Hall (1977).  Using a breezy energy that respects the pulse of its players, it’s actually the first French film Woody Allen has always wanted to make filling the screen with sensuous but superficial characters that have intimate revelations and near inexhaustible bank accounts.  Re-interpreting Alfonso Cuarón’s Y Tu Mamá También (2001) and updating Éric Rohmer, we have an idyllic portrait of summer bliss in Barcelona as experienced by two American tourists, Scarlett Johansson as Cristina and Rebecca Hall as Vicky.  Having the good fortune to know someone with a palatial estate there (who turns out to be Patricia Clarkson) who is in the middle of her own midlife doldrums, the girls are surrounded by luxury and the bloom of youth.  Vicky is engaged to Doug (Chris Messina) back in the states, a well-meaning but emptyheaded corporate attorney with an eye on living a comfortable life of stability, wealth and status, where their future together has been mapped out well ahead of time before they ever get married.  Vicky’s life is one of order and structure, where the thought of acting on impulse is simply unthinkable, while Cristina is just the opposite, an utterly unpredictable, dreamy-eyed girl who hasn’t a clue what she wants, who’ll jump into troubling relationships just for the thrill of danger and suspense, but then bale once she feels the least bit pressured.  All this is explained to us through a narrator (Christopher Evan Welch) in a snide and sarcastic tone of understatement who seems to relish the idea of telling it to us straight, leaving the humor and hysterics to the drama queens onscreen.  Almost immediately, the characters play to stereotype, as if the game is poking fun of themselves by floundering in scenes that are as broadly familiarized as possible, with odd little plot tweaks where they must remain in character.  Javier Bardem is spot on as the earnest Latin heart throb Juan Antonio, a bohemian painter who attempts to pick up the two American girls by whisking them to a remote weekend location in Oviedo where they can see a more intimate side of the country and each other.  Vicky, of course, is furious at the mere suggestion while Cristina is enamored with his charms instantly. 

Woody Allen has been writing his own films for so long that as we hear each new line of dialogue, we can literally place them in other character’s mouths from earlier films, for instance, Vicky very much resembles Diane Keaton in Annie Hall, with her pretensions to art and intellect while remaining aloof to romantic inclinations.  Cristina on the other hand sounds at times like the hesitating voice of Woody himself, neurotic and likeable enough to others, but never satisfied, a girl who appreciates the artistic aspirations of others but has no real talent for it herself.  In this film, Juan Antonio plies the girls with music and alcohol and lures them into the beauty of art before attempting to seduce them both, preferably at the same time.  Shot by Javier Aguirresarobe, the cinematographer for Pedro Almodóvar’s TALK TO HER (2002), continually saturating the screen with works of art by Gaudi and Miro and an incessant classical Spanish guitar soundtrack that strangely repeats itself to the rhythm of the film with refrains from a dramatically hushed version of a song called “Barcelona” by Giulia y Los Tellarini, Giulia y los Tellarini - Barcellona "Vicky Cristina Barcelona" - YouTube (2:23), the film is also bathed in golden pastoral hues as the two girls and a guy venture through a series of idyllic rural locations, permeated by a warm summer glow enhanced by the everflowing glasses of Spanish wine.  This kind of upper class milieu has been fertile Woody Allen territory for years, but never punctuated by the rambling pastoral landscapes more typically found in Éric Rohmer romances.  However in Rohmer films, the earthy characters are reflective of the region and emblematic of the pastoral French soil, but here the common theme is American superficiality on display with an overblown appraisal of themselves, usually expressed through a misguided notion that money and class status buys happiness along with the accompanying snooty superiority, always taking themselves much too seriously with little or no understanding of others, such as Cristina’s reluctance to converse with Juan Antonio’s father, who only speaks Spanish. 

Enter Penélope Cruz as Bardem’s ex-wife, whose exaggerated hysterics are priceless, causing Bardem to repeat to her at least twenty times in the film to please “Speak English,” as she continually rants in Spanish and has for years had a resolute refusal to speak English.  Her notion of being a drama queen is put to the test in this movie as under Allen’s direction her hilarity is her utter caricature of herself, yet she steals the film.  Scarlett Johansson’s acting career has suffered under Allen’s direction, as she appears gorgeously appealing but so out of place and emptyheaded all the time, a confused American who brings with her the baggage of immaturity and bad acting.  The screenplay attempts to grapple with this obvious oversight by attributing artistic skills and abilities to her character that are too preposterous to believe, as the audience continues to see her as that glamor girl on the cover of People magazine.  She is simply out acted in every scene, but since the theme of caricature runs throughout, she seems to be playing a bad version of herself, but somehow the brooding, self-centered pretentiousness of it all actually works here as it typifies the theme of American superficiality.  Rebecca Hall on the other hand is impressive and a constant delight, especially her earlier scenes where she sternly and appropriately fends off Juan Antonio with an indignant aplomb.  When she falls under his spell, however, her dizzying mood swings questioning what she really wants out of life are equally appealing, even as they are subjugated by the less than believable storyline. Her husband Doug?  He’s like a dull, grown up yet stupefyingly successful version of a now subservient and completely ass-wiping Ferris Bueller.  What’s there to think about?  The emphasis isn’t really on explicit bedroom scenes or in providing laughs, but instead finds a beautiful rhythm that delves into an intricate examination of the complex nature of relationships.  But of course, everything begins and ends with the virtues and values found only in America.  This Mediterranean fling only makes sense under the intoxicating summer swoon of reverie and make believe. 

The Phoenician Scheme

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

Director Wes Anderson

Anderson on the set

Anderson with Mathieu Amalric,Mia Threapleton, and Benicio Del Toro

Kate Winslet with her daughter Mia Threapleton

Benicio Del Toro with Mia Threapleton and Scarlett Johansson

THE PHOENICIAN SCHEME             B                                                                               USA  Germany  (101 mi)  2025  d: Wes Anderson

Wes Anderson is a descendant of the Marx brothers and Jacques Tati, humorists enthralled with the idea of creating their own cinematic universe, and while Anderson’s quirky dollhouse world may not be for everyone, with production designer Adam Stockhausen on full display, this esoteric espionage caper is among the harder to follow storylines of all his films, but that hardly matters as this just barrels along at a scintillating pace, with an evocative score by Alexandre Desplat, where one thing that is unmistakable is just how bat-shit crazy it is, told with a deadpan, screwball comedy relish, taking us places no one else in the world is willing to go, where this unique mindset and miniature visual aesthetic are certainly his own, as the attention to detail is stunning.  With all the throwaway gags, witty asides, and the historical and cinematic references, it’s nearly impossible to follow it all onscreen (an entire exhibition is dedicated to Anderson’s career at the Cinémathèque Française in Paris, Enter the world of Wes Anderson at the Cinémathèque ..., while an exhibit at London’s Design Museum is planned in the fall, Wes Anderson: The Archives), as it’s gone in the blink of an eye, like the product placement of L.S./M.F.T. during a blood transfusion, a notorious advertisement for cigarettes, Lucky Strike Means Fine Tobacco, Lucky Strike Commercial #1 (1948) YouTube (1:01), a seemingly insignificant detail that only speaks to those old enough and crazy enough to remember that advertisement jingle.  While a darkness has crept into his later films, often reflecting contemporary authoritarian trends, the director is way ahead of his times in that regard, as evidenced by The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014), which allegorized a creeping fascism, or 2018 Top Ten List #7 Isle of Dogs, where a corrupt authoritarian mayor has banned all dogs to an abandoned island, mirroring the current practice of Trump sending so-called dangerous immigrants to languish in overseas prisons.  Anderson’s framing and composition are, as always, exquisite, producing stills that are literally designed to look good enough to hang in an art gallery, where the end credits are among the more uniquely designed in recent memory, showing images of famous paintings that inspired the look of the film, all set to the music of Stravinsky’s Firebird, Stravinsky: Finale - Suite from The Firebird / Los Angeles ... YouTube (3:00), suggesting they have a profoundly liberating influence, while also including an amusing statement that this may not be used for the purposes of training AI.  Perhaps the biggest surprise is the casting of Kate Winslet’s daughter, Mia Threapleton, as a novitiate nun, who surprisingly holds her own against a cast of stars, most only appearing briefly, yet the A-list of names in the ensemble cast is impressive, suggesting there’s no shortage of people who want to work with Anderson, who is one of the defining visionaries of our generation, whose influence is felt far and wide.  Threapleton watched the animated feature FANTASTIC MR. FOX (2009) when she was about eight or nine-years old, then was blown away by 2012 Top Ten Films of the Year: #3 Moonrise Kingdom, deciding then and there that she wanted to work with Anderson one day, sending him a self-made audition tape for this film, recreating a scene from ISLE OF DOGS (2018), which the director loved, choosing her immediately after reading with leading protagonist Benicio Del Toro, who felt a connection working with her.  While people have different reactions to the idiosyncratic Wes Anderson experience, as all the characters are essentially cartoons, yet this film would just not be the same without her, providing the heart and soul that the other characters lack, inspired by Anderson’s relationship with his own daughter, making this a very personal film for him.  The film is dedicated to Anderson’s late father-in-law, Fuad Malouf, a Lebanese engineer and businessman who had a vast array of ongoing international projects in the works.  

Anderson has a multi-billionaire benefactor/business partner in Steven Rales, whose Indian Paintbrush (company) has almost exclusively produced every Anderson movie since 2007, with just a handful of other movies thrown in.  As for the film itself, it’s a wild and wacky affair, shot on 35mm in the Babelsberg Studio in Germany (the same studio where Fritz Lang shot METROPOLIS in 1927) by Bruno Delbonnel, responsible for the cutesy style of Jean-Pierre Jeunet’s AMÉLIE (2001), Julie Taymor’s psychedelic Beatles fantasia ACROSS THE UNIVERSE (2007), and the magnificent look of Joel Coen’s 2022 Top Ten List #5 The Tragedy of Macbeth (2021), where this is the first live-action film not shot by Anderson’s regular cinematographer Robert Yeoman.  Premiering at the Cannes Film Festival, with a script co-written by Anderson and Roman Coppola, this film delves into the nefarious world of trade and commerce, which includes sabotage, a hidden espionage ring, and multiple assassination attempts, as personified by industrialist and arms dealer Anatole “Zsa-Zsa” Korda (Benicio Del Toro), a ruthless opportunist and the richest man in Europe who also dabbles in the defense and aviation industry, loosely based on Armenian oil magnate Calouste Gulbenkian, who helped Western companies exploit the oil-producing regions of the Middle East while amassing a huge fortune and art collection of more than 6000 works of art, which he kept in a private museum at his Paris house (now housed in a museum in Lisbon), described by an art expert in a 1950 article from Life magazine, Mystery billionaire, "Never in modern history has one man owned so much."  This unscrupulous element of wielding power in order to make as much money as possible is a stark contrast to the art-inspired visual feast that commands the screen, showing a darker side of the American artist, perhaps reflected by that same turn of events in American politics, as it’s difficult to say whether Anderson really wanted to offer thoughts on global capitalism, but the connection to a contemporary reality, and some well-known billionaires, is all too evident.  Set in 1950, we first meet Zsa-Zsa flying in his private plane somewhere over the Balkans when he hears a strange sound, like a loud thump, quickly turning around, only to see a bomb blast completely eviscerate a fuselage side panel, taking his personal secretary with it, but he miraculously survives a crash landing.  This near death experience, apparently his sixth or seventh assassination attempt, plunges him headlong into a vision of the afterlife, shifting to black and white imagery, where he literally sits in judgment of his life from beyond the grave, confronted with his own mortality, where God is played by Bill Murray, a large bearded figure in white robes, surrounded by otherworldly beings.  Because of the shadowy forces repeatedly targeting him with assassination attempts, while also trying to undermine his business ventures, he summons his long-abandoned and pious daughter Liesl (Mia Threapleton), who he hasn’t seen in years, to discuss making her the sole heir to his fortune, having mysteriously disinherited all his many sons, The Phoenician Scheme Movie Clip - Sole Heir (2025) YouTube (42 seconds).  This brief, yet highly effective scene taking place in his palazzo-inspired residence full of fine art establishes the particulars, “Never buy good pictures.  Buy masterpieces,” setting the framework for the rest of the film, becoming a battle of wills, like a morality play, where despite all the absurd encounters and theatrical shenanigans turning into an action-packed, globe-trotting romp, it’s all essentially a cover for a story about a father trying, in his own bizarre way, to connect with the daughter he barely knows, embracing themes like tragedy, redemption, honor, and yes, happiness.

Zsa-Zsa has a habit of carrying around a satchel of hand grenades, which he hands out to business partners like souvenirs during their encounters, where he typically starts out with the familiar refrain, “Help yourself to a hand grenade,” which people are more than happy to accept.  His titular “scheme” is to develop multiple infrastructure projects across “Modern Greater Independent Phoenicia,” a fictional land populated by princes, spies, revolutionaries, and large investors, and a mammoth Korda Land and Sea Phoenician Infrastructure Scheme involving a canal, a massive tunnel, a railroad line, and a hydroelectric dam.  His wheeler-dealer style has created many enemies, known disparagingly as “Mr. Five Per Cent” for his ability to always take a cut, hated the world over as he thinks everyone can be bought, having no friends and an unloving family he has largely ignored, but the business world hates him for exploiting local workers as slave labor, for his rampant lies and deceit, accountable to no laws whatsoever, and for dubiously cutting corners to become ridiculously successful.  Liesl has lived in a convent ever since her mother died when she was young, still stinging from the belief that Zsa-Zsa may have had something to do with her demise, as all his ex-wives died under suspicious circumstances, yet he steadfastly denies any involvement.  While he’s obviously a galvanizing figure, her insistence at discovering who was behind her mother’s murder leads her to accept this vaguely conceived succession agreement, on a trial basis, of course, bringing these seeming opposites together.  Zsa-Zsa’s grand scheme is outlined in a series of labeled shoeboxes, each containing a core component to the project, but rising production costs means he needs to close a gap in the plan’s financing, requiring visits to various key players to cover the artificially inflated costs, as his enemies have skyrocketed building material prices for his construction projects.  Liesl agrees to join Zsa-Zsa on his journey, accompanied by his special assistant, the family’s Norwegian tutor and entomologist, Bjørn (Michael Cera), who utters the unthinkable, “I speak my heart, I’m a Bohemian,” returning to the skies once again, with Zsa-Zsa repeatedly offering the reassuring words, “Myself, I feel very safe.”  Liesl is stunned to discover he’s been spying on her, though Zsa-Zsa is quick to retort, “It’s not called spying when you’re the parent.  It’s called nurturing.”  Where it all leads is to pure chaos and pandemonium, with a flurry of scenes strewn together, each more strangely disconcerting than the next, THE PHOENICIAN SCHEME - "Human Rights" Official Clip YouTube (1:10), THE PHOENICIAN SCHEME - "Oh Dear" Official Clip YouTube (42 seconds), THE PHOENICIAN SCHEME - "You Used to Work for Me ... YouTube (44 seconds), meeting with fez-wearing, French nightclub owner Marseille Bob (Mathieu Amalric), a reference to Jacques Becker’s TOUCHEZ PAS AU GRISBI (1954), interrupted by a group of armed revolutionaries, weirdly getting stuck in quicksand, while also visiting his second Cousin Hilda (Scarlett Johansson), who runs a “Utopian Outpost.”  But the ultimate showdown is with his big-bearded brother, Uncle Nubar (Benedict Cumberbatch, looking like a Russian czar), “He’s not human, he’s biblical,” which is literally a blood feud made to resemble a battle between a Marvel superhero and a villain, set to the bombastic music of Russian composer Modest Mussorgsky, Mussorgsky: Pictures at an Exhibition (Orch. Ravel) : Promenade 1 YouTube (1:44), turning into a day of reckoning.  What follows is not what anyone would expect, with a beautifully charming Buñuelian twist at the end that does not disappoint, feeling strangely humanizing all of a sudden, saturated with dry wit and humor, yet the incessant business jargon used throughout seems intentionally designed to leave viewers emotionally disconnected through an obsessive ironic detachment, as none of it really makes any sense, nonetheless this is a welcome addition to the Wes Anderson universe, filled with pastel appeal and memorable charm, where what really stands out is that the actors truly shine, displaying impeccable comic timing in this elaborately constructed geometrical puzzle box.