Love and desire

When Leonard (Joaquin Phoenix) and Sandra (Vinessa Shaw) meet for the first time, it’s at a get together arranged by their parents. They make small talk, but when they get a moment alone, Sandra shyly admits that when she first saw Leonard at the dry cleaning store owned by his father, she wanted to meet him. After this revelation, the camera pulls back to show Sandra in a medium shot, sitting in the center of a couch, as Leonard seems to see her for the first time. It’s these kinds of touches that make elevate James Gray’s Two Lovers from a standard melodrama into something enigmatic and sensual.

Leonard, still reeling from the dissolution of his engagement with his fiancé, is back living at home, working at his father’s store and trying to figure out what to do with his life. In addition to Sandra, the daughter of another dry cleaning storeowner in negotiations to buy Leonard’s family business, there is Michelle (Gwyneth Paltrow), the mysterious neighbor upstairs. Leonard, attracted to both, begins a journey to try and replace the wound left by his fiancé. With Sandra, there are no surprises. She puts her heart on her sleeve, and though she doesn’t know the depth of Leonard’s emotional damage, she is committed to being there for him. She finds trust in Leonard’s tact, and unlike the other men who have tried to woo her, she admires that he doesn’t try to pretend to be something he’s not. However, Michelle is a wildcard, outgoing and seemingly successful. However, her ongoing affair with married lawyer Ronald (Elias Koteas) has left her needy and vulnerable, unable to contemplate a future without him.

If this all sounds rather dramatic and salacious on paper, in execution, it’s far more subtle and powerful. The linchpin to the film’s success is in the phenomenal performance by Joaquin Phoenix. Uncomfortable in his own skin and by turns charming and withdrawn, his take on Leonard finds the complexity and loss of a man drifting in his loneliness. There is a magnificent setpiece in a Manhattan restaurant, where Leonard is meeting Michelle and Ronald for dinner. He’s there to help Michelle assess whether or not Ronald really is sincere when he says he will leave his family to be with her. Leonard arrives early in a slightly rumpled suit and is seated at the table, set in a half circle booth. As he waits, he shifts uncomfortably, trying desperately to look at home in surroundings well outside his tax bracket. When Ronald and Michelle arrive and slide in, Leonard moves from the middle of the frame, in the center of the booth to the edge and almost outside the camera’s range, cowed by Ronald’s stature. It's a small touch that speaks volumes about Phoenix's character. The supporting cast also works wonders with the script, particularly Isabella Rossellini as Leonard’s mother Ruth. Her lines are few, however much of her performance is on her face, as she looks at Leonard with a mother’s knowledge of his pain combined with her maternal concern. Her presence in these scenes with Leonard is astonishing.

Two Lovers is a devastatingly beautiful look at the difference between love and desire, and the vulnerability that comes with giving your heart to another. Mature in a way that few films are, and surrounded by an aura of breathless longing, Two Lovers finds hope in the deepest of despair.

Woody's Barcelona

For the better part of three decades, Woody Allen has been New York City’s unofficial biographer, capturing with a lover’s eye, that magical city's elusive allure as he wound his characters through the streets that never sleep. Who can forget the brilliant series of black and white still shots that open Manhattan; the architecture tour in Hannah & Her Sisters or the numerous apartments, theaters and parks that tracked a relationship in Annie Hall. It seemed impossible to think of Woody Allen even considering shooting in another city. But while European audiences continued to support Allen, the quintessentially American filmmaker couldn’t seem to find an audience at home, and in 2005 Allen crossed the Atlantic where funding and support were more readily available.

Match Point, Allen’s triumphant return to critical acclaim, marked the first of three films shot in England. While both Match Point and Cassandra’s Dream were exercises in morality, and Scoop a nostalgic take on classic comedy tropes, Vicky Cristina Barcelona vaults itself over any genre specifications and into the canon of Allen’s finest accomplishments. Moreover, it finds Allen training his camera with the same lingering sense of longing and beauty that he would in New York City, on the landmarks of Barcelona and provincial Spain.

Needless to say, I’ve been looking forward to this film all year, but even I could not have anticipated what an accomplishment Vicky Cristina Barcelona is. On the surface, the traditional Allen themes of romanticism versus pragmatism, art versus commerce and the sources of artistic inspiration are all to be found here. But what unfolds is something richer that taps deep into the well of the sacrifices that are made for passion and comfort, wrapped in a remarkable package that is by turns hilarious and sober.

Best friends Vicky (Rebecca Hall) and Cristina (Scarlett Johannson) are on vacation in Barcelona. Vicky is due to marry her thoroughly bland fiancee Doug upon her return to New York City, while Cristina is simply drifting, caught in a state of post-graduation uncertainty. One night at dinner, they are very openly propositioned by Juan Antonio (Javier Bardem), an artist who suggests they all spend the weekend together in the country, take in the sights, have some good food and of course, sleep together. The buttoned down Vicky is appalled, while Cristina is intrigued. They end up deciding to go with Juan Antonio, but with no guarantee of sex. Of course, both girls end up falling for Juan Antonio and from there, without spoiling the film for anyone, the wheels are put in motion for a very interesting summer.

Allen seems to have relished his time in Bareclona and Spain, as he scatters the film with shots of Gaudi’s famous buildings, the colorful alleyways of metropolitan Barcelona, and with a honey glazed lens, finds the soul of rural Spain, with simple shots of storefronts and quiet landmarks that left my fellow audience members literally gasping. But beneath these shots, and just visible under the dual love triangles that make up the film, is a very sophisticated script that offers up a progressive view of artistic relationships (both romantic and professional), that considers what each person brings into a situation, and makes quiet argument that sometimes multiple partners are needed to maintain the balance of sexual, artistic and emotional needs. It’s an intriguing logic, and certainly very “European”, but it’s all the more remarkable in that it’s coming from a man who is at an age when most directors and writers have long retired. It’s inspiring to find a director who is still working out new angles on familiar themes, with the intelligence many in the industry half his age simply lack.

Vicky Cristina Barcelona was more than worth the wait, and it ranks with Allen’s finest films. Funny and heartwarming, it’s a wonderful journey that doesn’t offer simple solutions for the lives of artists, but humbly suggests, without judgment, that the paths chosen are the ones best for the individual (or individuals) involved.