Two girlfriends on a summer holiday in Spain become enamored with the same painter, unaware that his ex-wife, with whom he has a tempestuous relationship, is about to re-enter the picture.
Director: Woody Allen
Writer: Woody Allen
Stars: Rebecca Hall, Scarlett Johansson, Javier Bardem
About one in three movies made by Woody Allen is a masterpiece. The remaining two are terrible. Yet, that one which is a masterpiece, is loved by some, loathed by others.
What I am trying to say is that, Allen’s work is polarizing. You either adore it or hate it.
Vicki Cristina Barcelona is one of his best works. Allen weaves a bizarre story, which is kind of his trademark, but this time, he reveals an awful lot about people, which is why we enjoy stories in the first place.
People and the choices they make. People and their feelings. People and the way they become defined by those choices and feelings.
This movie is one of the sexiest pieces of art you will ever have the good luck of admiring. It is sensual in a way that it is impossible to define, but well worth experiencing. Also, underneath it many layers of frailty, it is a story of love and conquest. Or is it just conquest?
To paraphrase Oscar Wilde, everything in life is about sex. Except sex. Sex is about power.
We sometimes have to give up our power to get what we want, or maybe we do so in the hopes of getting what we want. Or because we can’t help it.
Do we really decide who we want and why?
Are we free in that regard? When it comes to matters of the heart? Or are we simply puppets on strings?