narration overload

to loll in a picturesque horizons and being totally enraptured in art appreciation is a foremost craving set aside by the imposition of hard times. but enough about my egregious yearning. vicky cristina barcelona has been sprayed with four stars and eviscerated into every shredded emotion by almost every reviewer worth its salt that i couldn't help but ask, WTF? the movie is a chronicle about two friends who met a guy and his crazy ex-wife. the setting is beautiful, it's spain for crying out loud. specifically, barcelona with all the gaudi structures and a little sidetrack to the city of oviedo. rebecca hall is vicky, traditional, calm and practical, in other words, a total bore. scarlett johansson, in another of her temptress incarnation is cristina, a blonde radical in the art and science of love and relationships. the guy in the middle of the foursome is juan antonio, played by with gusto by javier bardem, who kept on reminding his ex-wife, maria elena (penelope cruz), to please speak english in front of cristina when she diverts into spanish. although penelope cruz expresses fervor and sentiments with much more depth and earnestness when she delivers her lines in her native tongue.

the narration conveys the action on the screen. but my dart thrower harped on the necessity of narration in films when viewers aren't basically devoid of intelligence. perhaps we could have done without the grating voiceover, the story would still be easily perceived, for its restraint and clarity. vicky cristina barcelona metamorphosed more as a travelogue rather than an escapade of desire and illicit liaisons. the real star becomes spain and its city of barcelona, a lavish and lovely milieu for the artists that are juan antonio and maria elena, and the budding photographer that is cristina. vicky, who inititiated the trip to the spanish city, is finishing her masters in catalan identity despite not speaking a word of catalan or spanish for that matter. this reminds me of gwyneth paltrow, she's maybe ten years older but she has a fluent grasp of spanish. it's a stereotype of the ages that a banker, not that i know one personally, is unromantic but reliable while an artist is passionate. the way i see it, a nine to five ordeal is much more comforting in these era of downturns and combustions.