It would be difficult to overestimate how important the movies of Woody Allen have been in my life. That makes it all sound a bit serious. . . the importance and pleasure of watching these films have been in equal measure. Thank heaven he’s made so many of them. They’ve had a similar effect on others who are close to me: which makes me want to understand what it is about Allen and his bumbling, beautiful characters that is able to speak to us across the cinematic divide.
Some of my favourite Allen moments are his establishing scenes: shortly after the opening of Manhattan (1979), Allen’s character sits with friends in a smoky café, engaging in witty, philosophical banter. In Whatever Works (2009), Larry David’s character soliloquises at length outside a New York café as an introduction to Allen’s Existential worldview. The title reveals the dictum of the film, that Allen isn’t shy about (he repeats it several times, in various forms):
My story is, whatever works. You know, as long as you don’t hurt anybody.
Any way you can filch a little joy in this cruel, dog-eat-dog, pointless, black chaos. That’s my story.
The theme of Whatever Works may seem distant from the so-called ‘real world’, where, according to many, humankind is severely limited in what kinds of joy are deemed acceptable within the dominance of the ideal. Crimes and Misdemeanors (1989) was, according to Allen, a revisiting of these themes, explored most directly in Love and Death (1975): an approach to the central questions of literature. Two narratives make their approaches towards an ultimate connection and meeting at the close of the film, and as the binary of the title suggests, one provides a serious ethical and philosophical question, as the other gives a comedic relief from these questions. In the former, the successful ophthalmologist Judah Rosenthal (Martin Landau) faces public disgrace due to the revelations of his former lover. When she threatens to tell his wife not only of their infidelity, but his questionable business practises, he considers going to the most extreme length to silence her. Meanwhile, Cliff Stern (Woody Allen) is hired through his family connection to make a film documenting the successful but monumentally irritating TV producer Lester (Alan Alda). On set, Cliff tries to connect with his assistant, Halley (Mia Farrow — who else?), and back at his apartment, he shows her footage of the project that is his passion: a film about the philosophy professor Louis Levy. These scenes of connection are some of warmest in the film, placing the perfectly matched onscreen presences of Allen and Farrow against the backdrop of old filmreels shelved and hung on the wall. Levy’s voice, from beyond the grave, tells of the importance of love, and the fragility of our emotional existence.
Crimes and Misdemeanors is a brilliantly balanced film: a masterwork by the director who practically invented and rubber-stamped forever the recently maligned category of the romantic comedy. Shot during the years when Allen was still comfortable to cast himself as a lead, it demonstrates the substance of his filmmaking success — the merging of the astonishing darkness of the Existential universe with the infinite possibility that springs from this darkness – for love, wonder and laughter. Allen onscreen, in fact, epitomises this tension: he always played the same role, equally neurotic and irresistible. It’s a caricature, for sure (he has always maintained that he’s just a regular guy at home), but it communicates successfully. His immeasurable success and influence show that Woody’s world answered something in Western cinema-going psychology. We go to the movies to learn about the world — and many of us, it seems, would be happy to live in this kind of New York City. It’s the translation of the spirit of our age into spatial and narrative terms. At the close of Whatever Works, Manhattan or Deconstructing Harry (what an ending!), we feel at home in these places. Among friends.
IN TWO WEEK’S TIME: Get ready for 2011 with the montage of connected lives conversant in Robert Altman’s Short Cuts (1993). For a more extended schedule, check in here.
C&M jockey’s for position with four other Woody films (Hannah, H&W, Annie, and Manhattan) as my favorite in the Allen canon. And it may be the quintessential Woody film in that it perfectly melds all of the archetypal Woody styles — the comedy (i.e. Sleeper, Love & Death, etc), the serious drama (i.e. September, Another Woman, etc), and the bittersweet romantic comedy (i.e. Annie Hall, Manhattan, etc) — into one film. It’s laugh-out-loud funny one moment, and tragic the next. And throughout you encounter deep philosophical and moral questions to wrestle with.
So much to chew on. Frex, love the “eyes” metaphor. The Eyes of God — does God see all (and reward and punish), or is God/Universe unseeing, uncaring? Cliff’s (Woody) documentarian camera eye catches life one way; his brother-in-law Lester’s (Alan Alda) TV camera catches it another way. Cliff “see’s” Lester as a buffoon; Halley (Farrow) see’s him as charming. Judah (Landau) is an ophthalmologist (eye doctor). Ben (Waterston), his rabbi brother, is going blind. Dolores talks about the eyes being the window to our souls. Later, Dolores’s dead body is found with her eyes wide open. Professor Levy, who seems to “see” all, eventually commits suicide — did he “see” too much?
Also love the humor. Alan Alda is hilarious as the egotistical Lester, and Woody gets off tons of great one-liners:
Clifford Stern: [to his wife] Honey, you’re the one who stopped sleeping with me, ok. It’ll be a year come April 20th. I remember the date exactly, because it was Hitler’s birthday.
Clifford Stern: Show business is, is dog-eat-dog. It’s worse than dog-eat-dog. It’s dog-doesn’t-return-other-dog’s-phone-calls, which reminds me. I should check my answering service.
Clifford Stern: [on receiving his love letter back] It’s probably just as well. I plagiarized most of it from James Joyce. You probably wondered why all the references to Dublin.
And of course, the most oft quoted… At Ben’s daughter’s weeding, Cliff and his sister talk about the breakup of his marriage to Wendy. Barbara tells him, “Once the sex goes, it all goes.” Cliff replies, “It’s true. The last time I was inside a woman was when I visited the Statue of Liberty.”
In the end, I love Crimes & Misdemeanors because the whole film seems to answer those deep, meaning-of-life questions by not answering them. There is no answer, only paradox and perspective, as exemplified by countless scenes, including Judah’s dinner-table dream scene, and, of course, the final two scenes: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RRUV27b98eI&feature=related and http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wKkBEOOzIjk&feature=related .
Matt, really well said. I couldn’t agree more — and the same four films are constantly swapping places at the top of my list, usually based on which film I’ve watched most recently.
Thanks, Heidi. One of the biggest “crimes” relative to Crimes & Misdemeanors is that the Oscar winner for Best Picture that year (1989) was the “immortal” Driving Miss Daisy. Probably one of the worst decisions in Oscar Best Picture history. And Crimes & Misdemeanors wasn’t even nominated (though Woody Allen was nominated for Best Director and Best Screenplay, and Martin Landau was nominated for Best Supporting Actor).
The other four nominated films for Best Picture were Born on the 4th of July, Dead Poets Society, Field of Dreams, and My Left Foot.
Many critics today argue that Spike Lee’s Do The Right Thing should have been nominated, and should have won. It’s a fine film, and it is easily the most revolutionary film of 1989 (in terms of advancing the medium forward), and it is the politically correct choice, but I still don’t think it was the Best Picture.
Other notable films from 1989: Glory, Henry V (Branagh), Sex Lies & Videotape, The Abyss, Little Mermaid, When Harry Met Sally, Cinema Paradiso.
My five Best Picture Nominees would have been: Crimes & Misdemeanors, Do the Right Thing, Sex Lies & Videotape, Dead Poet’s Society, and Field of Dreams (my sentimental choice).
I’m interested that you mention ‘Dead Poet’s Society’: would love to have your assessment of that one.
I agree that the humour is perfectly pitched. Allen is the master of the quotable movie line… in fact, that’s official, because my ‘Cassells Book of Modern Quotations’ has his face on the front, HUGE. He’s undisputed. :)
I think the metaphor is beautifully done in this film, too. Which leads me to wonder about the common criticism that Allen’s genius is uneven. I started watching ‘Don’t Drink the Water’ the other day… not great, at all. Although that was directed by Howard Morris.
I loved ‘Vicky Cristina Barcelona’. I just miss seeing Allen’s face in the latest movies.
C&M is a masterpiece. Thanks to all of you for reminding me of it–I look forward to seeing it again. Hanna & Her Sisters is his second best, I think. After that I think I can go with Matt’s assessment.