I may have become more prude than I thought judging by the number of times I rolled my eyes during Vicky Cristina Barcelona. (By the way, I love Penélope Cruz — but come on, Academy — anyone who steals a scene away from Meryl, with running nose and all, deserves an Oscar! And also, for that, Sophia Loren deserves an honorary Oscar for her taray, hands-on-her-hip intro on Meryl, lol.)
My problem was that I saw Woody Allen in Javier Bardem, and how he, Allen, seemingly longed to (sexually) exploit Vicky, Cristina and Maria Elena aka Rebecca Hall, Scarlett Johansson and Penélope, but could only do so through Bardem.
Sobrang stretch ba? Hehe…
Anyhoo, I thought it wasn’t so much about love as it was about selfishness, e.g., having your cake and eating it too. There was no sacrifice on the part of Bardem aka Allen — while all three women, perhaps with the least contribution from Cristina, had to go through pain in different manners.
The film was funny and it did make me question my own, boxed up concepts of social norms, which I think what the movie is really all about, fine I get that, but I couldn’t help but wonder, if maybe, the film was essentially a masturbatory fantasy of the writer/director — and I paid to see it. (Fortunately, Barcelona the city was breathtaking.)