Twenty-something Juan
has split up with Teresa, following her decision to go abroad to London
to do a degree. After hearing a man at a greyhound track say that he bets
on the number six dog every time, Juan feels that the only proper way to
find a new girl is to place himself at the mercy of pure chance, by sitting
on the same park bench for a precise period every afternoon, and at the
same table in a particular bar every evening. He tries to justify this
in long conversations with his new flatmate and with two very different
girls, the cynical Alicia and the bookish Ana, who turn up at each of his
predetermined locations. He ends up with neither of them.
Sounds
familiar? Yes, we’re in Eric Rohmer territory, except that A Bench in
the Park is set in Barcelona and written by first-time director Agusti
Vila. So much is it an hommage to Rohmer, in fact, that a dinner-table
conversation includes discussion of one of the French veteran’s masterworks,
The
Green Ray, one of the diners being a vegetarian just like the heroine
of that film. Apart from Bunuel, Erice, and the occasional Almodovar, I
am unfamiliar with Spanish cinema, and A Bench in the Park certainly
comes across as more French than Spanish.
Playing with ideas of
chance is not, of course, original in cinema. Rohmer himself explored "Pascal’s
wager" in My Night With Maud. Much of Kieslowski’s output concerns
the chance interconnectedness of otherwise separate lives, and one of his
films, Blind Chance, is based on a 3-way "what if?" scenario (shamelessly
copied in the more recent Sliding Doors). One of the best new releases
of 2001, Haneke’s Code Unknown, develops from an initial chance
meeting. Bresson’s masterpiece Au Hasard ("by chance") Balthazar
tells of a donkey who, by his very nature, is totally acted upon by the
chance events and people of his life. Vila’s film has a further approach,
namely that the central character, by putting himself at the mercy of chance,
has made a positive decision to become totally passive. One could read
this as a study of a certain psychological type, so lacking in self-confidence
that he doesn’t want his own actions to affect events, yet Juan doesn’t
seem to be this type.
A Bench in the Park
is enjoyable enough as a light romantic comedy, although the central premise
seems little more than a peg on which to hang the story. The performances,
led by Alex Brendemuhl, Victoria Freire, and Monica Lopez, are excellent,
especially as Vila almost totally avoids cross-cutting during the lengthy
conversations, thus placing more demands on the actors. The camera is hand-held
throughout, most strikingly when it continually circles around the table
during one of the two dinner-parties where Juan’s friends are trying to
fix him up with someone, whom he rejects each time because it is all prearranged.
A film to see once, but
probably once only.
Alan
Pavelin