Annie Hall

1977, Woody Allen, 93m

This film turned out to be exactly what I expected, and far below the riveting point. As my third film from him, I have a fair template of the branded product in my mind. There was little outside the numerous and often brilliant one liners, the references to high brow cultural subjects handled unaffectedly (that being what he is) and nuggets of homely or philosophical wisdom characterized by ease of delivery. This is too American a movie to be really effective in another hemisphere and it was with a sense of relief that I watched the end credits rolling up. The subject is the complexity, brief flowering and decay of relationships. It's the dolce vita all over again, tragic only in it's sheer boredom and absence of meaning. To paraphrase one of the witticisms from the film, life is like a restaurant where not only is the food bad, but also the portions are small. Life, he says is divided between the horrible (like being maimed or leprous), everything else being miserable, so one may be thankful to be merely miserable. The film is about those lucky enough to be miserable. But, from another viewpoint, even the horrible may be preferable to the enuii of a living death, implicit in the comforts of misery.

I still look forward to some of the "dark and serious" films of Woody Allen. I'm curious to know what time has done to this jittery philosopher.

Chimes at Midnight

Orson Welles, 113m, 1965

The character of Falstaff appears in three of Shakespeare's plays. Orson Welles takes on the daunting task of portraying tis complex comic villain in this compilation from the different plays (Henry IV and V and MWW), bound up in a seamless plot. This is one of the best screen adaptations of Shakespeare. Elizabethan England is brought alive in this boisterous mosaic which takes us through taverns, brothels and the court. Even more than the central characters of Falstaff (played by Orson) or the young and dissolute Prince Hal (later to blossom into the charismatic Henry V) or his antagonist Hotspur, or the aging Henry IV (played by the seasoned Gielgud) is the galaxy of  secondary characters, who have a dickensian vitality even though they are cardboard creatures. Perhaps the most brilliant is Justice Shallow, played by Alan Webb.

The brilliant b/w photography has shades of Citizen Kane with shafts of light streaming in diagonally through skylights or ventilators in darkened interiors. The battle scenes are unusually realistic in their brutality. Falstaff is played with aplomb, but it seems Welles all the way--the identification is uncanny. 

Manhattan

Woody Allen, 1979, 93m

Woody Allen made this film at the age of 42. It seems to be very autobiographical and personal in a straightforward way, even though the events may not have occurred. It is a sentimental, nostalgic portrait of the city in which it is set and the dusky black and white photography to the score of George Gershwin, makes the ancient and weathered phenomenon that is NY spring to life, as it could only through the eyes of someone who grew up there. The skyline of tall buildings, the river with it's bridge, the crowds, people drifting along the walkways lost in reverie--everything is lovingly lensed. One of the best sequences is when the lead couple gets caught in a thunderstorm. The film has something of the turgid neon-lit metropolis of Taxi Driver, and something of the beauty of decadence one associates with the word parisienne. After all, NY must be the old world of the New World.

The story is an effervescent romance set among a group of people with minds occupied by culture, books and ideas, and their own fragile affairs--it seems like an accurate portrait of the kind of set of people Woody must have grown up with, somewhat weird in thought and expression, but ordinarily human enough just a bit below the surface. This gives Woody, braniac that he is, ample oppurtunity to exercise his wit and gentle sparkling brand of humor, as the script roves intelligently but shallowly over the fashionable topics of the young academic crowd.The dialog is laced with unselfconscious references to artists, philosophers and books, and the characters are smart enough to recognise their shallowness. It is a good enough movie for similarly inclined folk, who may be kept pleasurably entertained by the unending dazzle of the repartee. Diane Keaton's former husband, whom she extolls in a mixture of awe and hate, as an overpwering prodigy of virility and intellect, "who taught me everything",turns out to be a dimunitive, balding "homunculus". This is obvoiously humorously self referential and shows Woody Allens broad humanity which embraces gays, intellectual morons and homunculi like himself (all manner of peripherals and battered souls). Woody Allen is his good hearted, brainy,creative self. Diane Keaton is brilliant in her emotionally confused, culturally pretentious and high spirited role.

It is a film that often touches the heartstrings. It is a refined, polished yet shallow movie, as perhaps it is meant to be, because Woody Allen is not one to feign profundity about the business of life. It is also a movie about human rootlessness, even in the best of times and places.

Love and Death

Woody Allen, 1976, 84m

This is my first film from this famous director, and it really goes beyond my expectations. This looks like an undiscovered cinematic vein of gold which may gobble much time and attention. It was equally welcome to re-encounter the beautiful Diane Keaton, so far known only as the bewildered and helpless Mrs Godfather the Second. Here she has a stellar role and an opportunity to exercise the complete range of her talent. One looks forward to Annie Hall, Allen's award winner which again features Diane.

This is a movie falling under the blanket of screwball comedy. More specifically, it is a philosophical comedy which fools around with sex, laced with wit, innuendos and abundant titter provoking wisecracks. The script scintillates as it irreverently engages in serious questions while always maintaining a dead pan face. Woody is obviously a person of erudition, aman more of words and thoughts than of feelings, except perhaps the weedy ones, which coming from a guy with his biodata and biometrics, is not too surprising. The Napoleon figure serves as a foil, and perhaps embodies Woody's own fantasies. We seem to be getting psychoanalytic, but he virtually begs for it, in so many words. But everything is fun, even the sickly ones, because they hide gentleness and refinement. As he says, "My disgustingness is the best part of me."

It is a costume drama set in nineteenth century Russia and we enjoy many hilarious situations as Boris (Allen) unwillingly joins the forces fighting the invading French under Napoleon. He gets to marry by a quirk of fate the woman he has unsuccessfully wooed for long; becomes a decorated national hero; plots to assassinate Napoleon in conspiracy with his wife Sonya (Keaton) but is held back by ethical qualms. We also see the Man wit the Scythe dancing away. The comedy is detail perfect, from the inflexions of expression, to the layers and multiplicity of meaning in the dialog.

This is in fact a movie comparable in philosophical depth to Bergman. Woody Allen however has a far lighter touch  (there are no answers anyway) as he examines questions of love, sex, death, war and morality. Here is none of the gloom, and even should you need pinches of salt for the ideas part, it's all part of the comedy, which is solid stuff.

More than anything else, Woody Allen reminds me of Voltaire's rapier sharp Candide.

A sample of the script:

"The question is have I learned anything about life. Only that human being are divided into mind and body. The mind embraces all the nobler aspirations, like poetry and philosophy, but the body has all the fun. The important thing, I think, is not to be bitter... if it turns out that there IS a God, I don't think that He's evil. I think that the worst you can say about Him is that basically He's an underachiever. After all, there are worse things in life than death. If you've ever spent an evening with an insurance salesman, you know what I'm talking about. The key is, to not think of death as an end, but as more of a very effective way to cut down on your expenses. Regarding love, heh, what can you say? It's not the quantity of your sexual relations that counts. It's the quality. On the other hand if the quantity drops below once every eight months, I would definitely look into."

Hymn

The Son of God Goes Forth to War is a hymn written in 1812 by Reginald Heber.^[1] It was used in the film version of The Man Who Would Be King, starring Sean Connery andMichael Caine, but was set to the Irish tune The Moreen/The Minstrel Boy and had reworked lyrics (which had already happened in the original short story).^[2]

The Son of God goes forth to war,
a kingly crown to gain;
his blood red banner streams afar:
who follows in his train?
Who best can drink his cup of woe,
triumphant over pain,
who patient bears his cross below,
he follows in his train.

That martyr first, whose eagle eye
could pierce beyond the grave;
who saw his Master in the sky,
and called on him to save.
Like him, with pardon on his tongue,
in midst of mortal pain,
he prayed for them that did the wrong:
who follows in his train?

A glorious band, the chosen few
on whom the Spirit came;
twelve valiant saints, their hope they knew,
and mocked the cross and flame.
They met the tyrant's brandished steel,
the lion's gory mane;
they bowed their heads the death to feel:
who follows in their train?

A noble army, men and boys,
the matron and the maid,
around the Savior's throne rejoice,
in robes of light arrayed.
They climbed the steep ascent of heaven,
through peril, toil and pain;
O God, to us may grace be given,
to follow in their train.