What's Love Got to Do with It?

Vicky Cristina Barcelona, like all things related to Spain and love, is intoxicating. The inebriation might be a sort of osmosis phenomenon since the characters have a wine glass in hand for about 85% of the movie. The movie washes over the viewer like the buzz of a fine Rioja, leaving a warm sedated feeling. When I say sedated, I do not mean that the movie is uncomplicated. Ah yes, man never tires of the exploration of love: rational, irrational, passionate, calculated, new, old, loyal, desirous, etc. This movie covers a lot of ground on the map of love, though it’s not entirely clear how much headway it—and its characters—makes.

The actors come together wonderfully, all exactly right for their characters and clearly at ease in their roles. Penelope Cruz, as Maria Elena, swiftly steals the show with her brooding eyes and stunningly delicate features. Her fiery personality is what is truly gripping, particularly when she delivers the movies funniest, and perhaps best, lines. Javier Bardem also scorches the screen as Juan Antonio, the ultimate Don Juan. His asymmetrical features make him both strikingly handsome and almost primitively rugged, depending on the angle. He had me before, “hola.” Cruz’s and Bardem’s sadistic tango is both beautiful and painful to watch, although leaving the theater I’m sure everyone hopes to see them onscreen together again soon.

Where Cruz and Bardem provide the movie will its most vibrant color, Rebecca Hall, as Vicky, brings the movie soul and gravity. Vicky’s evolution over the movie is the meatiest thread of the movie. Hall’s anguish over her old expectations for love and marriage being toppled by one weekend in “stupid Oviedo,” is naïve but not completely crazy. One scene with her fiancé Doug, and the audience hopes she runs for the Catalan hills. We are constantly reminded that “only unfulfilled love can be romantic.” Sure, that sounds poetic at first. Then I realized that it was coming from Woody Allen, and I don’t know whether I’m prepared to take advice from Allen, given his sketchy romantic history. Vicky and Cristina, polar opposites in love and life, offer two alternatives, we can’t help but hope that there’s some happy medium.

The movie does pose one tricky riddle: why is Scarlett Johansson famous? It’s not that she’s unattractive, but I don’t agree that her looks alone can carry her fame—especially since her acting skills are utterly underwhelming. If Penelope Cruz had Johansson’s acting chops, we’d look the other way, but Scarlett is just not good enough to justify her pay grade. She, however, manages to get away with this role, because Cristina is unsophisticated and not an entirely likeable character: “I don’t know what I want. I just know what I don’t want.” That’s a great BS line to get out of any responsibility. The worst part is just how generic Johansson looked compared to Cruz. I cringed; thinking to myself that there must be a better representation of American beauty and youth that Allen could have juxtaposed with Cruz. The great thing about Vicky Cristina Barcelona, however, is that the warm buzz quickly washed away my irritation over Johansson.

The film is a truly vintage romantic comedy. It is made timeless not only by its European setting, but also because the age old question regarding love, and whether you should act with passion or reason, will never stale. Vicky Cristina Barcelona does not want to offer an obvious compromise between the two, but I’m not sure that people want an easy way out, as it would make life far too boring.

Have you heard the News? Huey's still got it.

I'm at the age when I'll drink just about any glass of wine. And, if I'm buying, it's often the cheapest glass I can get. Every once and a while--usually in the company of my parents--I'm served up a truly fine wine, aged longer than the Yellow Tails and Little Penguins of wine shops. These glasses of aged grape may be few and far in between, but they always go down extremely well. Last night, seeing Huey Lewis and the News was like sipping a fine glass of Bacchal music--finely aged and pleasant on the palate.

They opened with "Heart of Rock N' Roll" and had about a quarter of the audience in Englewood NJ dancing in the aisles. The crowd clearly were 80s music devotees, and they were thrilled to see Huey and the News. Looking around, not only was it so awesome to see that these guys could still kick it, it was also great to see the older fan base still rockin' out on a Wednesday night. Huey continually asked, "Are you still with me?!" It seemed fitting, since they're definitely still with them after all these years.

Despite my jokes about taking the DeLorean "Back in Time" for the concert, a quick google search will prove just how current Huey Lewis & the News are. They wrote the title track for Pineapple Express (Keeping up with Seth Rogan? They know it's hip to be associated with Hollywood stoners). There's also recent footage of Huey on stage with the Foo Fighters, rocking out on the harmonica. Their sound, like the DeLorean, is timeless simply because everyone loves the 80s, even if it was a ridiculous decade of weird fashion and the keytar (though Huey and the News thankfully don't use that instrument). Huey's voice, while surely not life changing, is distinct and pleasant. The brass section takes the volume up a notch. The guitarist had a solo that seemed to come out of left field in "It's All Right." Huey's harmonica work is truly noteworthy. The acapella song in the middle reminds us of the olden barber shop days, but they pull you right back to their true sound with "Workin' for a Living" and "I Want a New Drug."

As the show drew to a close, I hoped that some of the bands I love now can keep the stamina of Huey & the News in the decades to come. I wonder which of Huey's fans knew that their shows would still go down so well, particularly after a bit of aging in the cellar.

A Night at Camp Coldplay

This weekend in Hartford, all the Coldplay concert needed was a campfire. Everyone was already singing along; why not cast a warm orange glow? Sing alongs are appealing, but there's something weird about a band that makes their performance easy enough for the audience to accompany. Don't get me wrong, I was singing my heart out with Chris Martin and the entirety of Hartford's XL Center, but partway through the show, I longed for them to think outside the box for a song or two, maybe even a solo or, hell, even a mere chord.

The campy feel made for a comfortable environment: everyone knew what to expect and there were no surprises. But a live show is far more interesting with a musical curve ball thrown in every once and a while. Come on Chris, make us marvel at a surprising pitch. If anything, the Hartford show made Coldplay look like they were on cruise control. Unlike in Coldplay's two previous concerts that I've seen, Chris Martin offered very limited amusing self-deprecating comments. They went seamlessly from song to song, never wandering from their set list. The show was good, but it wasn’t great—something that is very hard for me to say about a band that I will blindly love and admire for the rest of my life.

Ultimately, Coldplay is endearing and charming enough so that I forgive the band for their lack of creativity. The live version of "Yellow" always thrills the crowd. Near the end of the show, the four band members pranced up to the back of the arena, up in the second tier, and did an “impromptu” acoustic set. I throw quotation marks around impromptu because I found out that they did this at the Boston show, if not every other show. Somehow the relocation lost its charm when I discovered it was all a part of their cruise control performance. That being said, “The Scientist” always brings me to tears, and hearing it in the acoustic set still got the waterworks going.

The best parts of the show were when Coldplay didn’t rely on the amped up top 40 hits, flashing lights and enchanting globe projectors. For “The Hardest Part” the lights were up and it was just Martin playing on the piano. Though, near the end of the song he stopped and said "This song isn't big enough," and quickly started up another. You'd think that a band with 4 platinum albums would actually WANT to sing a "small"song. It was different enough from the version on X&Y that the audience didn’t sing quite as loud because they were actually watching and listening. The other great part was during the “impromptu” set, in which the drummer Will Champion sang “Death Will Never Conquer.” As the member of the band who agreed to play drums because it was the only slot left, Will’s chance to sing and be the front man was a great moment. Chris Martin handing over the microphone for one song was about as close to a curveball as Coldplay got.

A 90-minute set passes quickly, and before I knew it, my favorite band was wrapping up the concert, bowing, and exiting the stage. I stood waiting, knowing that their encore would help tip the scale from a good concert, to a great one. During the last tour, they played “Fix You,” essentially the song everyone came to see live, in the encore. They saved the best for last and it was brilliant. This time around, however, I stood in vain. House lights when on, despite the crowd’s protest, and the road crew started dismantling the stage. Coldplay was long gone, leaving the campers with nothing but embers that were growing colder by the moment, and the longing for a little something more from a night at Camp Coldplay.