Postcards and Emotions: Modernist Architecture in the Films of Pedro Almodóvar and Woody Allen

Abstract

Modernism has emerged as the preeminent iconic representation of Barcelona. However, the process through which this peculiar style has attained its iconic status is an arduous and multifaceted endeavor. This paper examines the challenges inherent in the categorization and periodization of Modernisme, followed by a succinct review of its initial filmic representations, culminating in a comprehensive analysis of two films in which Modernisme assumes a pivotal role: All About My Mother (Pedro Almodóvar 1999) and Vicky Cristina Barcelona (Woody Allen 2008). We conclude that Modernisme’s transformation into a cultural brand is largely attributable to the erosion of its ideological component in favor of a touristic and globalizing gaze.

1. Introduction

The symbiotic relationship between architecture and artistic media, such as cinema, has further augmented buildings’ popularity and solidified their association with urban centers. However, the process through which an edifice attains iconic status is an arduous and multifaceted endeavor. Therefore, it necessitates a transversal approach to comprehend the nuances of its resignification, as elucidated by studies within the realms of heritage and memory (van Boven and Winkler 2021; Tomaselli and Scott 2018). A paradigmatic and globally recognized exemplar is the Eiffel Tower, initially conceived as an ephemeral architectural marvel, yet transformed into an unmistakable symbol of Paris after a myriad of vicissitudes, chronicled by numerous authors (Stephens 2006; Glaser 2018).

Since its inception, cinema has emerged as a pivotal catalyst in the legitimization process, its significance in the resignification of urban spaces and architectural marvels substantiated by the burgeoning field of film-induced tourism studies (Busby and Klug 2001; Hyounggon and Richardson 2003; Roesch 2009; Hudson and Ritchie 2006). The present case study investigates the Barcelona Modernist Movement (henceforth referred to as Modernisme), an architectural phenomenon whose status as a tourist attraction for the city is today indisputable, prominently featured in guidebooks, and extensively analyzed in historical, urban, heritage, and cultural discourse. Empirical evidence corroborates its privileged standing, with tourists, in 2022, rating architecture and culture as its primary attractions (Observatori del Turisme a Barcelona 2023). Consequently, numerous scholarly inquiries have scrutinized the impact of Modernisme on visitors’ perceptions of the city (San Miguel and Torres Hortelano 2013; Del Rey-Reguillo 2013; Martínez-Expósito 2015; Osàcar 2018).

However, a preponderance of these studies is contemporaneously situated, thereby focusing on the interplay between tourism policy and cinematic representations. In contrast, this research endeavors to employ the methodological framework of heritage and memory studies to map the trajectory through which Modernisme has emerged as the preeminent iconic representation of Barcelona. In doing so, we will delineate the role of cinema in the process of universally recognizing its principal architectural structures as emblematic symbols of the city. First, we examine the challenges inherent in the categorization and periodization of Modernisme, followed by a succinct review of its initial filmic representations, culminating in a comprehensive analysis of two films in which Modernisme assumes a pivotal role: All About My Mother (Pedro Almodóvar 1999) and Vicky Cristina Barcelona (Woody Allen 2008). Curiously, these two films are the most commercially successful productions ever filmed in Barcelona, wherein the style itself becomes a character within the narrative. Through this lens, we observe how a style that was vilified for a significant portion of the twentieth century has undergone a transformation into a cultural icon, largely attributable to the erosion of its ideological component in favor of a touristic and globalizing gaze.

An analysis of the official data on the most visited monuments in the city of Barcelona allows us to conclude that no other cultural icon in Barcelona surpasses the popularity of modernist architecture and, especially, of Antoni Gaudí’s masterpieces. Park Güell, the Sagrada Família, Casa Batlló, Pedrera, and Palau Güell are among the ten most visited architectural landmarks in the city. It should be noted that the Sagrada Família is by far the most visited, though not all tourists pay the entrance fee to admire its interior. They are accompanied in this list by another modernist landmark, the Hospital de la Santa Creu i Sant Pau, a work by Domènech i Muntaner (Observatori del Turisme a Barcelona 2023). Therefore, it has been a privileged setting for the cinematic representation of the city, producing beneficial synergies for both artistic disciplines. However, to reach its current status of global prestige, modernist architecture has undergone a challenging path of legitimization.

To begin with, Modernisme is an artistic movement that is intrinsically difficult to study. Firstly, its periodization poses a challenge. For some scholars, it spans from 1881, the year of the founding of the magazine L’Avens (or Avenç), to 1906, with the closure of the magazine Joventut (Termes 1987). For others, Modernisme began with the Segona Festa Modernista held in 1893 in Sitges (Epps 2007). Finally, some state that it ended in 1906, coinciding with the formation of the Solidaritat Catalana party (Corretger et al. 2016).

Adding to the complexities is the polysemic confusion surrounding Modernisme. The term can be understood as both an attitude—that of those seeking to modernize Catalonia—and an artistic movement—that of those who recognize themselves as modernists during a very brief period—and, finally, as a period when viewed from the present to explain the past (Marfany 1982). If we adhere to this last category, Marfany argues that Modernisme spans from 1890 to 1910. And, according to him, “Modernisme could be defined, then, as the process of transformation of Catalan culture, in the course of the last decade of the last century and the first of the present, from a regional, peculiar and traditionalist culture to a national, normal and modern culture” (Marfany 1982).

It is noteworthy that Marfany never explicitly mentions architecture, undoubtedly the discipline most associated with Modernisme. The seminal symbolic date that first comes to mind when discussing Modernisme is 1888, due to the celebration of the Universal Exposition and the inauguration of what has been termed a “culture of the event” with which Barcelona has been transforming ever since. The success of the 1888 Exposition, and the contact with international visitors, augmented the desire to exhibit Barcelona to the world. In this regard, the newly constructed Passeig de Gràcia, part of the Pla Cerdà urban development plan, would become the “golden mile” of the city’s affluent elite, where it was necessary to reside and be seen, and whose most prominent expression is known as the Illa de la Discòrdia (Block of Discord). Within this confined space, up to five residences were erected according to the designs of as many modernist architects, all fiercely competing to raise the most original and sumptuous edifice: Domènech i Muntaner, Puig i Cadafalch, Gaudí, Sagnier, and Coquillat.

However, it is also necessary to make certain remarks about modernist architecture. It is often stated that Modernisme is the Catalan adaptation of international architectural trends that would be known as Art Nouveau in France, Jugendstil in Germany, Floreale in Italy, Secession in Austria, or Modern Style in England. If we accept this definition, since the official emergence of Art Nouveau is dated to 1902, after the Universal Exposition of Turin, it is possible to qualify what was created prior as proto-modernism, being, therefore, a “successful modernization of Catalan Gothic” (Trenc 2014), which would incorporate one of the hallmarks of the imminent Art Nouveau, such as the presence of applied arts like ceramics, mosaics, stained glass, etc. (Trenc 2014), that is, the recovery of the craftsman’s work as a representative of a glorious past. Even so, the study of Catalan Modernisme is even more complicated since its forms are not uniform, and two main tendencies can be discerned: one more politically oriented and cognizant of their international contemporaries—in which architects such as Domènech i Montaner, Puig i Cadafalch, or Vilaseca participated, adorning buildings with identity elements such as the Senyera (the national flag of Catalonia)—and another trend, formed by Catholic architects, to which the preeminent figure belongs, that of Antoni Gaudí and his disciples, such as Josep M. Jujol.

Despite its artistic merits, Catalan Modernisme stands intricately linked to the expression of a nascent Catalan nationalism. This period coincided with the throes of Barcelona’s industrial revolution, earning the city monikers like “the factory of Spain” or “the Catalan Manchester”. This industrial transformation fostered the emergence of both a wealthy bourgeoisie and a working class. These socio-economic shifts created a fertile ground for the rise of nationalism. Historian Jordi Canal identifies the necessary conditions for such a movement: “A favorable juncture, a manifest discontent with the projects of construction of the Spanish nation-state, a group of people available and willing to give strength and direct the process, and lastly, the existence of traditions, consciousnesses, realities, experiences and identity signs, more or less ancient”. The incorporation of identity symbols in Catalan modernist architecture, such as the motif of Saint George, the patron saint of Catalonia, exemplifies the intertwining of politics and art (Canal 2015).

The fervor for Modernisme would run parallel to the passion for the novelty of cinema, so their destinies were bound to intersect. In 1912, this union occurred twice through Gaudí’s work: Barcelona, Pearl of the Mediterranean (Cabot Films 1912), in which Park Güell and the Cascade from Ciutadella Park were recorded, and Barcelona: Main City of Catalonia (Segundo de Chomón 1912), again featuring the Ciutadella’s Cascade.

Modernisme would disappear with the same rapidity with which it emerged and would fall, not only into oblivion but into contempt. A decline that would affect all its great architects, including Antoni Gaudí himself. It would be through him, however, that Modernisme would not only regain esteem but would go on to become the iconic and global artistic movement of the city of Barcelona, thanks to international support.

2. Results

2.1. Coming to Terms with the Past through Cinema: The School of Barcelona

The same year of Gaudí’s demise, in 1926, the short film Barcelona, by Josep Gerard, was produced, in which a streetcar journey pauses at the Casa Milà, one of the architect’s and Modernisme’s most renowned edifices. At that juncture, both Gaudí and his oeuvre were subject to virulent criticism, notwithstanding the defense and vindication mounted by the Surrealist movement, and especially Salvador Dalí. His stylistic idiom clashed with the rationalist tendencies espoused by Mies van der Rohe and Le Corbusier. The triumphant return of Gaudí and Modernisme took place in the 1950s, more specifically in 1952, a time when a confluence of events transpired. First, the centenary of Antoni Gaudí’s birth was commemorated. It was an occasion that passed, reviled as Gaudí was, without major celebrations, but gave rise to the founding of the Friends of Gaudí Association. A date that, precisely, coincided with the celebration of the Eucharistic Congress in Barcelona and the resumption of construction on the Sagrada Família, both events being exploited to publicize the National Catholic dictatorship. The dictatorship’s appropriation of Gaudí’s figure was predicated on the myth of his pious and profoundly devout personality, even bordering on fanaticism, which led him to be regarded as “the architect of God” (Hughes 2008). Moreover, unlike his colleagues, such as Puig i Cadafalch or Domènech i Muntaner who were affiliated with the Regionalist League, Gaudí was not politically militant, thus rendering him readily vindicable by Francoism. Also, unlike other contemporaries, he had executed works in other regions of Spain, such as El Capricho in Comillas (Santander) and the Episcopal Palace in Astorga (León), sites far removed from harboring nationalist sentiments. In a sense, Francoism executed the same appropriation tactic with Gaudí as with other intellectuals, whether non-Catalan (the Generation of ‘98—or Catalan—the case of the poet Joan Maragall—claiming them as referents of a past that, in a certain way, justified and lent a (false) patina of legitimacy to the dictatorship. Unsurprisingly, the developmentalist cinema did not miss the opportunity to capture the regime’s vindication of his architecture on screen, and his work would serve as the setting and tourist attraction for films such as Love below Zero (Ricardo Blasco 1960) or Operación Plus Ultra (Pedro Lazaga 1966).

The domestic resurgence of Gaudí’s architectural reputation coincided with his burgeoning international renown. A pivotal contributor to his global prominence was his reception in the United States, where he became an immensely popular figure among architects and architectural scholars. The seminal figure in Gaudí’s American expansion was George R. Collins, a professor at Columbia University. In 1956, Collins was introduced to the Association of Friends of Gaudí after attending an exhibition on the architect held by the association at the Saló del Tinell in Barcelona, commemorating the 30th anniversary of Gaudí’s demise (Freixa 2015). In 1957, Collins persuaded the esteemed architectural historian Henry-Russell Hitchcock to organize an exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art in New York City titled The Architecture of Gaudí. This exhibition garnered resounding critical acclaim and impelled Collins to establish the Friends of Gaudí USA Association and publish the first English-language biography of the architect in 1960. Contemporaneously, Gaudí’s oeuvre elicited profound admiration in Japan, largely due to the efforts of the architect Kenji Imai. In 1961, the renowned filmmaker Ken Russell directed a documentary titled Antoni Gaudí, further disseminating Gaudí’s architectural legacy on an international scale.

Gaudí’s ascension to international and global renown sparked an ongoing debate regarding his status as a modernist architect. Certain scholars, such as George R. Collins and Juan Bassegoda Nonell, contend that Gaudí’s exceptional talent transcended his historical milieu, rendering him a “genius” who cannot be solely ascribed to the modernist movement (Freixa 2015). Conversely, others, including Juan José Lahuerta and Oriol Bohigas, assert that Gaudí’s oeuvre cannot be dissociated from the prevailing Catalanist sentiments in the intellectual circles of his era, despite his reticence to overtly endorse such ideologies (Lahuerta 2002).

Consequently, the post-war period in Barcelona witnessed a renewed appreciation for the artistic and architectural movement known as Modernisme. This resurgence of interest extended beyond the realm of visual arts and historical studies, finding expression within the burgeoning cinematic landscape of the city. A new generation of Barcelona-born filmmakers, shaped by the socio-political realities of the post-Spanish Civil War era, began to incorporate notable modernist landmarks and architectural styles into their works. This deliberate engagement with Modernisme served not merely as a backdrop but rather as a conscious artistic choice, fostering a dialogue between the past and present.

Several noteworthy films from the so called “Barcelona School” exemplify this trend. José María Nunes’ experimental short film, Biotaxia (1968), utilizes innovative cinematic techniques to explore the urban fabric of Barcelona, with a particular emphasis on modernist structures. The film’s fragmented narrative and focus on the play of light and shadow evoke a sense of mystery and intrigue, while simultaneously highlighting the enduring aesthetic qualities of the movement.

Similarly, Jacinto Esteva and Joaquim Jordà’s Dante no es únicamente severo (1967), drawing inspiration from Dante Alighieri’s Divine Comedy, integrates scenes shot within the Casa Milà, a paradigmatic example of Catalan Modernisme designed by Antoni Gaudí. This juxtaposition of a literary masterpiece with a modernist masterpiece creates a layered visual experience, prompting viewers to consider themes of memory, history, and artistic continuity.

Furthermore, Carlos Durán’s Each time that… (1968) delves into the complexities of memory and nostalgia through evocative imagery of Barcelona’s modernist architecture. The film’s exploration of temporal dislocation is intertwined with the city’s architectural landscape, suggesting a connection between personal and collective memory.

In the post-Franco era, the city of Barcelona underwent a series of reforms that profoundly transformed its urban physiognomy and conceptual underpinnings. Since the assumption of power by the PSC (Socialists’ Party of Catalonia) in 1979, Barcelona’s municipal authorities recognized the city’s diminishing viability as an industrial center within a globalized economy. Thus, Barcelona embarked upon what has been termed the “entrepreneurial turn” (Harvey 1989) and “the symbolic economy” (Zukin 1995).

These strategic shifts essentially responded to a new economic paradigm marked by outsourcing. Consequently, Barcelona reinvented itself as a “fantasy city”, associating its brand with shopping, gastronomy, and culture (de Moragas 2017). Barcelona’s historical circumstances rendered it particularly receptive to these transformations. With the financial center relocated to Madrid and an inexorable process of deindustrialization, Barcelona positioned itself as a tourist, cultural, and leisure enclave, adhering to the model of other “intermediate” cities (Borja and Castells 1997). Its comparative advantages vis-à-vis competitors included a temperate climate, coastal proximity, and a rich cultural legacy, the latter pivoting around the recuperation of modernist architecture.

The catalyzing event precipitating this metamorphosis was Barcelona’s selection in 1986 to host the 1992 Summer Olympic Games. The process of transmuting Modernisme into an iconic emblem of the city was already evident during this period. Notably, one of the most indelible images was the diving competition at the Municipal Swimming Pool in Montjuïc, where architects strategically removed the northern tier, thereby framing the divers’ performances against the unmistakable silhouette of the Sagrada Família basilica. This enduring image would later be appropriated by popular culture in music videos such as the recent Illusion by Dua Lipa filmed by Tanu Muino (Muino 2024) We can see the combination of Sagrada Família and athletes diving into the pool (0:29, Muino 2024) or the mixing of Dua Lipa as a pop icon and Sagrada Família as an architectural icon (2:46, Muino 2024) (Bloom 2024).

In the post-Olympic era, the City Council sought to enhance the three branding actions that had rendered the Games a resounding advertising success. Specifically, to augment the prestige of its cultural patrimony, in 1997, UNESCO inscribed several modernist edifices, including the Hospital de Sant Pau and the Palau de la Música Catalana, in its list of World Heritage sites.

Catalan architecture attained global prominence, evinced by its international resonance. In 1999, encomiums proliferated: architect Sir Richard Rogers lauded the city’s transformation in his treatise Towards an Urban Renaissance (Rogers 1999), while Donald McNeill did likewise in his essay Urban Change and the European Left: Tales from the New Barcelona (McNeill 1999). Mercer Consulting ranked Barcelona among the five cities worldwide with the highest quality of life, and, most significantly, the city was awarded the prestigious Gold Medal of the Royal Institute of British Architects, a distinction never previously conferred upon a municipality. This award recognized Barcelona’s urban planning interventions, many of which centered on the rehabilitation and recuperation of historic modernist structures. These architectural accolades found cinematic reflection in Pedro Almodóvar’s 1999 film All About My Mother.

Almodóvar’s narrative follows Manuela (Cecilia Roth), who undertakes a journey to Barcelona in search of her son’s father after his untimely demise in an accident. In her quest, she encounters individuals with whom her son Esteban had cohabited, including the transgender sex worker Agrado (Antonia San Juan) and the nun Rosa (Penélope Cruz), who is carrying Esteban’s child and is HIV-positive. Complications during childbirth result in Rosa’s death, but not before entrusting Manuela with the care of the newborn, also named Esteban in honor of the father. At Rosa’s funeral, Esteban (Toni Cantó), having undergone gender reassignment, appears as Lola.

All About My Mother represents a pivotal work in Almodóvar’s oeuvre, marking his first film shot outside Madrid. To underscore this newfound creative phase distinct from his preceding oeuvre, the film’s spatial and architectural dimensions assumed paramount significance, as acknowledged by the art director Antxón Gómez: “We scoured the city in search of locations, enabling Almodóvar to immerse himself in this curvaceous Catalan modernism, so divergent from his familiar Madrid milieu”. (Sanderson 2011)

There is a well-established consensus regarding Pedro Almodóvar’s Barcelona: it is a cinematic representation that mirrors the “most well-known and recognizable tourist postcard” (Camarero Gómez 2016). However, it is equally important to recognize that spatial elements within Almodóvar’s filmography are never merely incidental or random; they constitute a fundamental pillar of his aesthetic and political vision (Gómez Gómez 2021). This is explicitly acknowledged by the director himself in his work, Patty Diphusa y otros textos. Here, Almodóvar expresses his desire for a “space of intimate dimensions” (Almodóvar 2011). This very definition can be productively applied when analyzing his portrayal of Barcelona’s modernist architecture. Therefore, a significant body of scholarship has undertaken a politically charged reinterpretation of these spaces in Barcelona within the film. These interpretations diverge in their scope and perspective. Some scholars approach the film from an international and cosmopolitan lens (Ibáñez 2013), while others prioritize a national viewpoint (Romero Santos and Mejón 2020).

At the forefront is the Sagrada Familia, Antoni Gaudí’s renowned architectural masterpiece, and its connection to the film’s narrative. Notably, the Temple Expiatori de la Sagrada Familia, its official designation, has been a contentious structure since its conception. This controversy helps explain the brief period of disrepute Gaudí’s Modernisme style endured. Gaudí assumed the project’s leadership in 1882. The project’s proponents, accused of harboring Catholic fundamentalist views, envisioned it as a replica of the Parisian Sacré-Coeur, symbolizing the Church’s triumph over revolutionary movements. A significant debate arose during Gaudí’s lifetime regarding the legality of interring donors within the structure. Urban zoning regulations strictly prohibited burials on city land, sparking a legal battle between workers’ organizations and the nationalist, conservative Lliga Regionalista political party.

However, under Pedro Almodóvar’s directorial vision, the Sagrada Familia, once associated with fundamentalist Catholicism by some of Gaudí’s contemporaries, is radically reinterpreted. By honoring her promise to Sister Rosa and adopting the newborn, Manuela becomes the head of a novel and unconventional family. The first encounter between Barcelona and Manuela is a night view of Gaudí’s Sagrada Família. Building’s reflection on Manuela’s face foreshadows her new and atypical family (from 20:51 to 21:06, Almodóvar 1999). The temple’s iconic and symbolic power is further evidenced by the city council’s authorization, recognizing the film’s significance, to modify the temple’s illumination for optimal visual capture. The second modernist setting that the director immortalizes is the Palau de la Música Catalan, by Lluís Domènech i Muntaner. Erected by popular subscription between 1905 and 1908, its purpose was to house the choir of the Orfeó Català, an association with a markedly nationalist character. Óscar Tusquets, a member like Oriol Bohigas of the gauche divine that would recover the city’s esteem for Modernisme, would remodel and expand it in the 1980s. The Palau represents a Modernisme radically different from that of Antoni Gaudí. Unlike his colleague, the architecture of Domènech i Muntaner has a clear and evidently political intention, which is to exalt Catalan culture, as opposed to that of the rest of the State. In fact, its first stone was symbolically laid on 23 April 1905, St. George’s Day, the patron saint of Catalonia, and its exuberant decoration is based on Catalan iconography. In All About My Mother, Manuela hangs clothes on the balcony of Agrado’s house. Within Pedro Almodóvar’s filmography, few scenes as effectively embody his previously alluded-to ambition of portraying a “space of intimate dimensions” as this one featuring the Palau de la Música Catalana as its backdrop (26:58 to 27:06, Almodóvar 1999). Upon opening the windows, both she and the viewer discover its monumentality. In this way, on the one hand, the work recently endorsed by UNESCO is advertised, and, on the other, its beauty is identified with the sensation of freedom and the end of mourning that Manuela feels at those moments. The third modernist edifice that assumes a pivotal role in Almodóvar’s film is Casa Ramos, a work by Jaume Torres i Grau constructed between 1906 and 1908. It serves as the residence of Sister Rosa’s family, representing an outmoded conception of the familial unit that, in the director’s estimation, has become obsolete at the turn of the millennium. The occupants are a father (Fernando Fernán Gómez) afflicted with Alzheimer’s disease and his wife (Rosa María Sardá). Among all the film’s settings, Casa Ramos perhaps most demonstrably aligns with a prominent characteristic of Pedro Almodóvar’s directorial approach. Just as Almodóvar’s films exhibit a wide range of influences, encompassing everything from American melodrama to Spanish nun films, Casa Ramos itself embodies this same eclecticism. In a meta-referential gambit quintessential of Almodóvar, the mother occupies her time forging works by the painter Marc Chagall, whose eclectic oeuvre parallels the interior of the Casa Ramos. Classical sgraffito and modernist ceramics intermingle with Mozarabic-inspired arches and ornate furnishings such as the Double Sofa, designed by Antoni Gaudí for the Batlló residence (from 31:24 to 31:37 and 32:58 to 34:18, Almodóvar 1999).

2.2. Vicky Cristina Barcelona (Woody Allen 2008)

With the advent of the new millennium, Barcelona had culminated its transformation into a tourist destination, and modernist architecture played and continues to play a pivotal role in this metamorphosis. This newfound identity is captured in Woody Allen’s 2008 film Vicky Cristina Barcelona. Following two London-set films, Match Point and Cassandra’s Dream, it constituted the third installment of Allen’s European artistic phase. In this regard, Barcelona is the sole locale in this cinematic journey that is not a state capital, unlike the aforementioned London and the subsequent Rome (To Rome with Love (2012)) or Paris (Midnight in Paris (2011); Coup de chance (2023)). Undoubtedly, this is symptomatic of Barcelona’s relevance within the international milieu and its status as a global icon. Unlike Almodóvar, Allen’s architectural deployment fulfills merely functional purposes, and, in that sense, his film evinces that as Modernisme’s renown increases, and its image becomes ubiquitous, the movement ultimately loses its character as a “sign of identity”, its local idiosyncrasy, to become a “cultural export”, both phrases employed by Lahuerta (Lahuerta 2002).

The narrative follows two New York friends, Vicky (Rebecca Hall) and Cristina (Scarlett Johansson), during a summer sojourn in Barcelona. The premise originated with Vicky, the more cerebral of the duo, who is pursuing a master’s degree before her impending nuptials to Doug (Chris Messina). At an art opening, they encounter Juan Antonio (Javier Bardem), a local painter who seduces Cristina and, later, Vicky. The situation is further complicated by the irruption of Juan Antonio’s tempestuous ex-wife, María Elena (Penélope Cruz).

Akin to Almodóvar’s characters, Allen’s protagonists will traverse a modern yet quintessentially modernist Barcelona. In fact, the narrator will tell us, “They particularly enjoyed the works of Gaudí and Miró”. However, little is shown of the painter, but much of the architect, a narrative choice justified by Vicky’s character arc. She embodies the archetypal American enamored with the renowned architect’s oeuvre and George R. Collins’s promotional campaign. Gaudí is the impetus for Vicky’s master’s thesis and the impending trip: “I, uh, fell in love with Gaudi’s church when I was fourteen and…one thing led to another”. Inevitably, the film features a scene with the towers of the Sagrada Familia (the “church”) in Vicky and Cristina’s first walk in the city (5:10, Allen 2007) and provides a backdrop to Vicky and Doug’s nuptials. Allen was granted the rare privilege of filming within the Sagrada Familia’s interior (5:17, Allen 2007). He also received preferential treatment at Park Güell, where he consented to reduce the water flow of the famous dragon fountain to enhance the direct sound recording (from 38:18 to 39:17, Allen 2007). The tourists also visit the fanciful rooftop of Casa Milà, likely a homage to Michelangelo Antonioni’s The Passenger, one of the directors most admired by Allen of which we also see the façade (5:27, Allen 2007). Cristina will also talk with María Elena in front of the Ciutadella’s Cascade. Finally, Vicky awaits Juan Antonio at the gates of Finca Güell, with its spectacular wrought-iron dragon, constructed between 1883 and 1887 for Gaudí’s patron Eusebio Güell.However, Gaudí is the only modernist artist mentioned throughout the entire film, despite the ubiquitous presence of the movement throughout the footage. According to the narrator, “Vicky and Cristina drank in the artistic treasures of the city”. The film unveils a panoply of unique buildings designed by the leading architects of the Modernist school, which remain anonymous for the viewer. They visit the Hospital de la Santa Creu i Sant Pau (1902–1913) by Lluís Domènech i Muntaner, where, surprisingly, for a healthcare facility, Vicky receives Spanish lessons (1:01:00, Allen 2007); the Fundació Tàpies, former headquarters of Editorial Montaner i Simón (1881–1885), the site of an art vernissage (6:46, Allen 2007); and the Hotel Casa Fuster (1908–1910), the locus for confessions between Vicky and her compatriot Judy (Patricia Clarkson), well known to Allen as the venue for impromptu concerts where he joined his clarinet with two members of his jazz band (1:08:36, Allen 2007). Josep Puig i Cadafalch’s Els Quatre Gats (1897) was a gathering place for modernist architects frequented by the legendary painter Picasso. Stripped of its artistic value, Els Quatre Gats is cited by the narrator as “a little restaurant” (8:09, Allen 2007). The Manuel Doncel House (1917) by Enric Sagnier is the residence of Vicky and Cristina, which, like all the spaces they inhabit, except for Gaudí’s, they inhabit without knowing their architectural value. All these edifices serve as mere exotic backdrops, whose sole purpose is narrative, and with which the characters do not interact beyond visiting them as tourists and, in Vicky’s case, as a Gaudí scholar. Vicky, Cristina, and the audience become “urban flaneurs” (Temel and Polatoğlu 2023), a different and less emotional experience than Almodóvar’s.

The film was promoted as a “spot dedicated to the city”. Allen himself defined it, during the production announcement, as “a love letter to Barcelona” (El Confidencial 2007). Woody Allen seemed cognizant of the film’s intent: “When the film is seen in the United States, my compatriots will want to go en masse to this city”. In this regard, the film proved a success, delighting civic institutions. However, its reception in Barcelona was less effusive. Catalan culture is reduced to the gastronomic motif of pa amb tomàquet that Vicky and Cristina sample at Els Quatre Gats, a folkloric correfoc (pyrotechnic spectacle), and the strains of the popular song Qué li darem en el noi de la mare, curiously heard in a scene set in Oviedo. If the modernist architects, led by Domènech i Montaner, had striven to differentiate themselves from Madrid and an amorphous concept of Spain, Allen takes pleasure in having his characters indulge in these very romantic stereotypes against the modernist architectural backdrop.Others have criticized Woody Allen’s depiction as a “Tuscanized”, “postalized”, and “pasteurized” portrayal of Barcelona (García 2008). In response, Allen contended that this romanticized perspective was intentional, since “The film is made from the romantic perspective of two American tourists” (Fenés 2008). In this regard, Allen’s film aligns with this creative phase of the New York auteur: his Barcelona is not so much a physical city as a mental construct, a mythification arising from its European condition. Notably, in a film with a vaudevillian structure, Barcelona’s name appears in the title as if it were a character itself, the third element of the ménage-à-trois alongside Vicky and Cristina. This physical allure is confirmed by Doug, Vicky’s fiancé, after making love: “Here you look like someone else […] It must be the air of Barcelona”. However, there is also an intellectual dimension. The narrator informs us that upon initiating her liaison with Juan Antonio, Cristina feels “like an expatriate”, able to “connect with her European soul”, while the protagonists, perhaps nodding to Jules et Jim, are depicted riding bicycles. From this perspective, Allen’s vision confirms the modernist dream: Barcelona as a paradigm of a European, liberal, cosmopolitan, and global city.

3. Discussion

Due to their international acclaim, there exists a substantial body of scholarly work on both Pedro Almodóvar and Woody Allen. However, it is noteworthy that a significant portion of these studies concentrates primarily on aesthetic or narrative aspects. Almodóvar is frequently the subject of works that catalog his artistic influences, although it is less common for these analyses to delve deeper into the underlying significance of their incorporation. In the case of Allen, his European works beyond the United Kingdom, as evidenced by the reception of Vicky Cristina Barcelona, tend not to be held in high critical regard.

Furthermore, Pedro Almodóvar and Woody Allen epitomize an aestheticized vision of the city that has been lauded by film-induced tourism studies (Osàcar 2018) but vehemently critiqued by various local scholars. Perhaps the most scathing of these critiques is María Paz Balibrea’s denunciation of the rampant commodification in service of a capitalist system that she argues oppresses citizens (Balibrea 2005). This criticism is echoed by anthropologists who assert that the transformation of the urban landscape has marginalized its residents in favor of catering to tourists, thereby engendering a “parallel society” (Delgado 2017; Fernández 2014). A more conciliatory perspective is offered by urban studies that acknowledge the city’s achievements while simultaneously highlighting its shortcomings (Degen and García 2008).

4. Materials and Methods

The films selected for analysis were chosen due to their artistic and commercial significance. Pedro Almodóvar’s All About My Mother represented a pivotal reconfiguration of his cinematic oeuvre. If Almodóvar opted to shift the trajectory of his career following (Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown in 1988, initiating a phase of French co-productions adopting a melodramatic tonality, a comparable transition would transpire after Live Flesh in 1997. This evolution was propelled by his burgeoning prestige within France, having garnered the César Award for Best Foreign Film for High Heels in 1993. Moreover, 1994 witnessed the publication of Frédéric Strauss’s Conversations avec Pedro Almodóvar (Strauss 1994).

Almodóvar, who had hitherto abstained from participation in the Cannes Film Festival, contemplated for the inaugural instance in his career the pursuit of international accolades and approbation from global critics. In 1998, he announced his forthcoming project All About My Mother, the first of his films to be set exterior to Madrid, constituting a radical departure from his established filmography. His deployment of Barcelona’s urban landscape and modernist architectural patrimony as a conduit to a worldwide audience substantiates the rationale for this analysis.

With regards to Woody Allen, the Barcelona production of Vicky Cristina Barcelona was a long-sought aspiration of Antoni Llorens, founder of Lauren Films, the primary Spanish distributor of Allen’s cinematic works. Succeeding two London-based films, Match Point and Scoop, Vicky Cristina Barcelona would comprise the third installment of Allen’s European phase. Notably, Barcelona is the sole location amid this juncture of the director’s oeuvre that does not constitute a national capital, contrasting with London, Rome (To Rome with Love 2012), and Paris (Midnight in Paris 2011). This is undoubtedly symptomatic of Barcelona’s preeminent status within the international milieu and its iconic global recognition.

After viewing the films, a meticulous curation process was undertaken to identify and catalog scenes featuring modernist edifices. Historical tomes pertaining to the modernist movement were consulted, in conjunction with periodical sources, municipal reports, and specialized film press coverage to elucidate the production conditions. This multidisciplinary approach, grounded in the annals of the city, architectural history, and cinema studies, has facilitated an analysis of the narrative and symbolic functions of modernism within both films.

5. Conclusions

According to some scholars, All About My Mother would become “the most awarded and honored film in history, be it Spanish or of any other nationality” (D’Lugo 2006). This assertion is substantiated by the sheer number and diversity of accolades received: Best Foreign Language Film at the Academy Awards, Best Director at Cannes, César and BAFTA for Best Foreign Film, and no less than seven Goya awards. Its impact resonated with 2,580,496 Spanish spectators and 5,108,709 viewers across Europe between 1999 and 2000. All About My Mother thus functioned as an exquisite advertisement for Barcelona’s Modernisme, becoming an aesthetic trope to which any film set in the city would inevitably resort, particularly among foreign productions. Perhaps the most overt example of its influence is the French film L’auberge espagnole (2002). The director Cédric Klapisch acknowledges Almodóvar’s impact, evinced by his peculiar deployment of modernist architecture, especially Gaudí’s works. The architect’s buildings demarcate the various stages of the amorous liaison between the young Erasmus student Xavier (Romain Duris) and his unhappily married countrywoman (Cécile de France). Two scenes are noteworthy: firstly, Park Güell, Gaudí’s unique and utopian urbanization commissioned by Eusebio Güell between 1900 and 1914. Here, the spark of love ignites as the pair confess their feelings while reclining on the undulating benches of its central plaza, adorned with the ceramic and glass trencadís designed by Josep Maria Jujol, Gaudí’s disciple. Subsequently, they visit the towers of the Sagrada Familia after consummating their sexual union, thereby establishing an analogy between the apex of their relationship and that of the basilica’s construction.

The controversy surrounding Vicky Cristina Barcelona did not impede the film’s international success. Vicky Cristina Barcelona would become the epitome of “film-induced tourism”. Audiences made it Allen’s highest-grossing film to that point, later surpassed only by another of his European productions, Midnight in Paris (2011). Notably, Penélope Cruz’s critically derided portrayal of the capricious Maria Elena earned her the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress. Probably, of all the films shot in Barcelona, Vicky Cristina Barcelona attracted the largest audience, with 10,722,172 spectators and €96 million in worldwide box office receipts. This assertion is qualified, as, although no reliable data exists, given the magnitude of the Eastern market, that honor may belong to Kuai can che (Sammo Hung 1984), a film shot for the greater glory of Hong Kong cinema star Jackie Chan.

As for modernist architecture in general and Gaudí’s oeuvre in particular, it remains the city’s premier cultural attraction, as evidenced by the tourism statistics provided by the Ajuntament. The presence of Modernisme, or some of its manifestations, is ubiquitous in the city and in those temples of stereotype that are souvenir shops. The curvilinear towers of the Sagrada Familia or the figurines imitating the trencadís technique have become, thanks to tourism but also cinema, emblematic of Barcelona.

Certainly, the phenomenon observed in Barcelona is not unique. A substantial body of scholarly research explores how film-induced tourism can commodify urban spaces (Lipovšek and Kesić 2015; D’Alessandro et al. 2015). Perhaps the most widely used concept is “serial reproduction of culture” (Richards and Wilson 2006). This term describes the process by which “cultural icons, by becoming a brand, tend to lose their distinctiveness” (Richards and Wilson 2006). In the context of this analysis, the “distinctiveness” at stake is the potential loss of the historical identity associated with Barcelona’s modernist architecture. The price to pay for becoming a global film icon.