Barcelona

It's the last decade of the Cold War, and the two American yuppies in the movie Barcelona spend their time carrying on a rivalry that seems to have begun when they were kids. They're cousins and they're from Midwestern, old-money stock. They're also dim bulbs who haven't the slightest idea what's going on around them, in this cross between Reality Bites and The Ugly American.

Ted Boynton (Taylor Nichols) plays a Barcelona-based sales representative for a Chicago company. His cousin Fred (Chris Eigeman) is a U.S. Navy officer who's been sent to Spain as an advance man for an impending visit by the Sixth Fleet. Ted is very introverted and shy, especially around women, and has maintained only limited contact with the culture and people around him. Fred, on the other hand, is a jingoistic Yank who fancies himself a romantic hero and behaves as if he hasn't a clue as to what country he's in.

Which pretty much sums up Barcelona, a movie by yups, for yups and about yups. You almost have to wear a school tie just to be admitted to the movie, and having endured a stint at Yale is a must for enjoying it. Otherwise, it's a little hard to relate to these two well-bred bozos, who behave as if they cold utter the immortal line, "Tennis, anyone?" at any moment.

Of course, this character-as-caricature irony is part of the joke in Barcelona. Ted and Fred are neither the brightest nor the best. They're Reagan-era clones of Kennedy-era idealism, warts and all, a mixed bag of old-fashioned patriotism, youthful naivete and untested convictions. And, despite their presumably important jobs, they spend most of the movie arguing endlessly about Spanish women.

Ted is obsessed with Monteserrat (Tushka Bergen), a translator with the World Trade Fair in Barcelona. It seems, however, as if he can't quite reconcile their love affair with her continued relationship with her boyfriend, Ramon (Pep Munne). In turn, Ramon is a radical anti-American journalist, who's writing articles fingering Fred as a CIA agent. Fred, meanwhile, is chasing after Marta (Mira Sorvino), who appears to be always willing and waiting.

At times, Barcelona is sly and genuinely satiric. But director Whit Stillman (who also did Metropolitan) is so thoroughly a by-product of the upper-crust culture he's trying to rib that the jokes lack any deflating quality. The result is a little like being stuck at a debutante ball, where you can't escape any of the inane chatter.