Two different opinions of Woody Allen’s Vicky Christina Barcelona have come down the pike – both from bloggers, not actual critics, but maybe it is all one greasy soup now and only opinions matter. Here’s my thinking on that – a blog develops a trusted readership, much the way critics used to, and thus, the readers want to know what this bloggers thinks of a film. And they match this opinion along with the blogger’s previous opinions of films, much the way they used to with critics. And thus, blogger-critics are born. I am still not sure where it all sits with Oscar but I guess we’ll find out. Anyway, Kim Voynar at Cinematical says this:
That’s the basic story, but there’s so much more in between the lines that I won’t reveal, so as not to spoil the joys of discovering them in the film for yourself. Suffice it to say that Allen has created one of his best works in years, a film that is funny, philosophical, and imaginatively explorative of the meaning of love and desire. Cruz turns in a performance that’s better, even, than her Oscar-nominated turn in Volver; her Maria Elena is on-the-edge crazy, but is also very funny and engaging.
So maybe we’re looking at another nod for Cruz. We have yet to see if 2008 will be a wasteland for actresses, as it was last year. Maybe this is a good sign. Over at Hollywood-Elsewhere, Jeff Wells thought the film was so bad it was like a parody of a Woody Allen film and he even suggests that maybe Allen was doing that on purpose (and if so, high five) to parody himself (really, Woody should do that – though he did do that in Stardust Memories. Sort of.) But Wells does single out both Penelope Cruz and Javier Bardem as lighting up the screen ad libbing their Spanish:
The only parts of Woody Allen‘s Vicky Cristina Barcelona (Weinstein Co., 8.29) that feel truly alive and crackling are the Spanish-language scenes between Javier Bardem and Penelope Cruz. These two, portraying a pair of tempestuous, self-obsessed painters whose marriage has fallen apart due to an overload of heat and impulse and Spanish vinegar, are dynamite together. They create spark showers when they rage and taunt and rekindle their mutual hunger and disharmony. Cruz, especially, is electricity itself. When she loses her temper, it’s sheer bliss.
He also complains that there are no naked breast shots in the film – after all, he (HE) has a reputation to uphold. Perhaps he wrote to Allen’s publicist and asked for a few test shots of the naked Johansson and Cruz in exchange for a decent review? Just kidding. Not trying to stir the pot, just making a joke. Ahem.
