The best one can hope for with an anthology film is that the good segments will outweigh the bad. But the “Cities of Love” series was dubious to begin with, and the third installment of this franchise, Rio, I Love You is the worst.
Like Paris je t’aime and New York, I Love You, Rio is an omnibus of region-specific romantic shorts by an array of international filmmakers. The format gives directors a low-risk opportunity to let loose and play and try a different approach. That kind of energy can elevate an unsuccessful short, and sometimes yields great work. Paris, for example, boasted one of Alexander Payne’s most moving films, and the Coen Brothers, in their amusing ditty, treated us to a spectacular close-up of Steve Buscemi’s distinguished visage. Even Vincenzo Natali’s absurd vampire piece had memorable, distinctive visuals.
The segments of Rio helmed by name directors are only mildly compelling (John Turturro is a particularly confounding director), while the rest are instantly forgettable, and sometimes, even for just 10 minutes, nearly unwatchable. “The Muse,” directed by Fernando Meirelles, may be the prize-winner here. A sculptor (Vincent Cassel) watches passersby at the beach, seeking inspiration. We only see the other characters from the waist down, and each has a leitmotif in the form of a different style of music. Meirelles shoots with his usual intensity, and the segment ends on just the right note. It’s nothing exceptional, but it stands out in stark contrast to its mostly tedious companions.
Part of the issue is the film’s surprising lack of local flavor. For the most part, there’s no good reason to set any of these shots in Rio de Janeiro. Paolo Sorrentino’s vacationing couple (Emily Mortimer and the much-older Basil Hoffman) could be visiting any beachfront destination, and the same goes for Meirelles’ sand sculptor. The segment directed by Im Sang-Soo probably comes closest to capturing something about Rio, but its vampire shtick feels lazy and uninspired. Unlike the Paris film, whose locations were highly specific, this film doesn’t have a strong sense of place.
Rio doesn’t identify the directors of its interwoven segments until the very end of the film, which keeps preconceptions at bay (though it’s hard not to recognize Sorrentino’s gliding camerawork). But the attempt to unify these standalone segments is frustrating. New York did this with a flimsy gimmick, a recurring character that links each segment together. Rio takes a less successful approach to structure, often presenting the first scene of one segment before diving into another, only to then return to the first segment much later in the film. Instead of unifying the film, it throws off the rhythm, drawing the viewer in and then immediately changing gears.
Rio, I Love You uses the variety inherent to the anthology format to keeps things moving along. Unfortunately, it merely moves from one mediocrity to the next.
