‘Creatures of the Heart’: A Walk in the Clouds (1995), a Film for Romantics
May 30, 2024 — A Walk in the Clouds (1995)
3.5/5 Stars
Women are “creatures of the heart,” Don Pedro (Anthony Quin) tells Paul Sutton (Keanu Reeves), trying to console him about his problems with his granddaughter, Victoria (Aitana Sánchez-Gijó). A Walk in the Clouds (1995) is like that. It’s a film for romantics, entertaining, emotional, and vivid. There are plenty of flaws to pick at, but all are beside the point.
A period drama, A Walk in the Clouds (1995) is the story of how Paul and Victoria fall in love, different people from different backgrounds, who find themselves together on the train. Victoria is scattered after sleeping with (and becoming pregnant by) a man who will not marry her, and Paul is unhappy, having just met his wife he hasn’t seen in four years, who very clearly to the audience does not love him, and has not even tried to know him.
There are cliche scenarios aplenty (a young couple that is only pretending to be a couple, and, imagine it, there’s only one bed); the soundtrack is far too over the top. The dialogue leaves something to be desired, to say the least (“I want you more than anything Victoria, you can’t imagine how I want you...”).
But there are individual charming touches, too. Don Pedro (Anthony Quinn) tossing excess salt into his soup, claiming his grandfather lived to 102, and his great grandfather to 106, got me. Who doesn’t have a relative like that? Being sensible and logical has nothing on love.
This film is about heart, and it’s about letting yourself enjoy it. I don’t want to ruin it by tearing it apart at the threads to prove a point.
That being said, there are definite flaws in this film. Keanu Reeves doesn’t portray a tortured war hero with much nuance but he is a soldier. He has a right to be a little closed off in his portrayal of his character. The real stars of the film are Anthony Quinn and Giancarlo Giannini (as Victoria’s overprotective father, Alberto)— it’s them, not the romance, who kept me coming back to the film.
Yet, that’s just it. This film is about family just as much as it is a romance. Paul is an orphan. Seeing Victoria, even if she’s not happy with her family, as she embraces and squabbles with them is all he could ever want, and this is portrayed well in the film.
Even if Paul hadn’t told the family he is an orphan, it was clear by his nightmares, half imagination, half war horror. This is, admittedly, an easy way to get around explaining Paul’s lack of family. But the film runs with it. Character details like this influence the story in strong and interesting ways.
Take, for example, when Victoria’s brother, Pedro Jr. (Freddy Rodriguez) arrives home in his car, Paul just stares at him. And what is he to do? Freddy is shorter than him, but studious, and infinitely more popular, at ease with his family as he hugs him. Their names are even similar, even though Pedro introduces himself as ‘Pete,’ presumably a name he’s taken up at Stanford where his father pays for him to go to school.
In another life (a ‘what if…’ toast, as Victoria puts it) Paul could be that happy. The comparison is easy and though it’s not subtle cinematically, it’s not overdone either. This wouldn’t have the same impact if it weren’t made clear earlier to the audience that Paul is an orphan, and I appreciate the attention to detail.
Not only is the film enjoyable and entertaining, it’s thoughtful and well-made. Things as small as the transition, when Paul meets the family add to the experience. We’ve been warned about how Victoria’s father will take the marriage, so we come in expecting the worst. When they finally meet, and Alberto finds out they’re ‘married’, he raises his shotgun, then the camera quickly cuts to the sound of him opening the doors as if mimicking a shot. The impact is funny and frightening at once.
Though I could nitpick it to death, I think I’m going to leave it here. This film is one for romantics: it’s about falling in love, and when you fall in love, perhaps you let the flaws go to wayside, knowing that they’re there, and knowing they don’t matter.
