Chapter 3. Vicky Helena Christina Barcelona

Taking it all for granted at 30,000 feet over Iceland, Helena eschews the airline’s movie offering for Vicky Christina Barcelona on her portable DVD player. She’d gotten the DVD – a cheap dubbed-only version – in Esperia for like $3. The player was a silly, showy gift from Brad. The anxieties are all her own.

•••••

So Christina (Scarlett Johansson) and Vicky (Rebecca Hall) fly to Barcelona for the summer, generally act like goofy American layabout tourist for a few minutes of screen time, and finally meet a swaggering Juan Antonio (Javier Bardem) still high off of No Country For Old Men but outfitted with a much better haircut.

Director Woody Allen, deep in what will someday be called the Dirty Old Man Period of his career, then has Juan Javier propose A Menage. Ooooh.

“Iu malsimilu desirim,” explains Christina to Vicky, “iu plus, unu ontraxitivu amu.”

Hmmm, Helena thinks, ontraxitiva amu ... “Counterintuitive love,” maybe...?

Helena decides that she’s a little crushy for Scarlett Johansson – even though both her Christina and Christina’s pal Vicky are looking more than a bit vacant most of the time – and a lot in lust with Javier Bardem.

How could Christina try to pass a whirlwind flight to isolated Spain with this man? Clearly a Brad type, figures Helena: kind, giving, but conservative beyond appearances.

•••••

Psychoticartistic ex-wife Maria Elena (Penelope Cruz) enters this paella of hormones, poetry, classical Spanish guitar score, and New York City-imported neurosis all descaro y ajenjo, crackling energy putting her excellently in immediate, burningly direct opposition to Javier Antonio’s unflappable cool.

A tiny but audible “oh” from Helena, who stirs in her seat. That’s sexy, she thinks, as Penelope triumphs instantly for the attention of her fancy over Scarlett and Javier.

Alas, Maria Elena can’t stay on-screen forever and when she departs the scene, Helena finds her attention dissipating somewhat – as do we all at this point in Vicky Christina Barcelona, as writer Woody Allen broadly paints by numbers for a while.

She wanderingly wonders about Brad’s talent. Maybe he does have the high-level talent the National High School Theatre Competition (Northeast Region) judges assessed, but, you know, real Star Quality like Javier Bardem or Penelope Cruz or even a Jefferson Jones?

I mean, Maria Elena is an *artist* given to crazy whims and tsunami-sized passion; Brad’s actions are all about some future he hasn’t planned. It’s like he wants to be conservative and do things the right way, but has no clue what things he has.

Wait a minute, Helena think. Is that what i want? Somebody with a future all planned out? Am i a Vicky and not a Christina?

•••••

Later, in a completely blatant burning of screentime to push Vicky Christina Barcelona over 90 minutes, director Allen introduces a sub-subplot wherein Vicky kinda sorta goes out on this kinda sorta date (to the movies, of course) with some dude from her Spanish class or whatever.

Flip, perhaps, but you know how you know of how little importance these scenes are? The actor that plays whoever the guy is gets no pre-movie screen credit at all, forever to exist only to clever trollers of imdb.com. Plus, during this scene, the only information imparted by Vicky here – Beware, spoilers – is repeated, like, twenty times throughout the course of this movie yet.

In any case, in the low point of Vicky Christina’s narration (sigh) comes when Vicky and said stiff go on the kinda sorta rendezvous. “The movie was a great success,” intones the narrator, drawing direct contrast with this one, quite frankly.

“The movie was a great success.” Helena turns to pass along some sarcastic crack. Plus, she craves a glance at her pretty boy. And Brad is a pretty boy, all jokes and kidding aside.

“That’s a pretty bad li – ”

She stops herself from further addressing the blissfully empty seat neighboring; Brad isn’t with her, of course. Helena’d departed America for Esperia six weeks ago, leaving him behind to wait. Nevertheless, she constantly feels him near, he always seems there – not in the modern, VoIP, Skype, email sense of continual virtual presence of another, but the age-old immediate feeling that we are together.

Helena oftimes finds herself viewing life as picture in frame and lovely, flighty, caring, self-centric, sensitive, oversensitive Brad always there. Though not the focal point of every move she makes, whether portrait or dot in pointillistic pier, Brad draws the attention. He’s a steadfast point in colors.

Sameness is ahead, thinks Helena. Is that bad?

•••••

Then there’s the much-discussed threesome stuff between Scarlett ‘n’ Javier ‘n’ Penelope, but come on. Director Woody don’t do sex scenes. He’s a New York guy: Much loud talk, not necessarily action.

On the other hand, the third-person retelling (complete with sweat-inducing kissy scene with the matinee starlets) of Christina’s affair is actually artistically honest and true to life – unfortunately, Woody has killed the device through overuse by this point in the film.

•••••

It all ends rather swiftly and anti-climactically. Vicky and Christina, in a classic Gilliamesque way, get the bookended conclusion, i.e. back in the airport returning to good ol’ NYC, looking empty-minded rather than stunned with much to mentally digest.

Helena is well unimpressed and recalling Brad’s take: “It was good. I liked it.” Of course, that might have been his review on any number of movies, as Helena can’t recall any derivation from his three standard reviews, the others being “It was pretty good. I liked it” and “It was good for what it was. I liked it.”

Just once Helena would like him to be blown away. Or utterly repulsed. She doesn’t know why. Maybe to prove ... something.

•••••

Helena won’t touch down in America for another four hours. She told Brad she was taking an overnight flight and wouldn’t arrive until late, that she’d see him tomorrow. Was it wrong for her not to want to see him immediately after a month and a half apart, she briefly considered before falling asleep with images of Penelope Cruz in her head.