Tuesday Short-Take #1 : Woody Allen and Me

Last week, PBS' "American Masters" broadcast a new 2-part documentary about the life and work of Woody Allen. 

In my post just before the program aired (PBS Reviews the Career of Woody Allen, Nov. 20), I promised to offer my thoughts on the show, plus a few words about why Allen has been a comic and cinematic hero to me.


Allen's career spans over 50 years, and has so many facets that it would be impossible to compress it all in a 3-hour program.  Still, the show did an amazing job taking the viewer from Allen's early days as a standup,to his first attempts at filmmaking, through his tabloid years (and various love-interests), to his maturation as a writer-director. Running through it all is Allen's remarkable feat; since 1970, he has written and directed on the average of one film every year. 


Allen tells much of the story in his own voice, appearing on-camera much of the time in exclusive interviews for the program. They are active interviews: he shows us the old manual typewriter on which he still writes his screenplays; shares with us a drawer-full of slips of paper with ideas that he is constantly generating; and responds with unusual warmth and candor to his acolytes and critics alike.  He does not come off as a pseudo-intellectual, nor a sleaze.  Best of all are the many film clips that are used to illustrate and enhance his personal story, clips from scores of his well-loved classic movies.


For me, personally, Allen was a creative inspiration.  I loved to write satire as a young student, and yearned to make readers laugh as hard as Allen had made me laugh.  His book, "Without Feathers", made my sides literally ache.  Too bad they didn't mention his book in the documentary; nor did they introduce one of Allen's earlier film projects, "What's Up, Tiger Lily", an actual Japanese spy film that Allen re-edited and dubbed with devastatingly naughty dialogue, that spoke to the perennial adolescent in me. 

But I reveled in utter joy as I re-lived the pleasures of his movies, and recalled the theaters filled with laughter, and the nearly empty matinees where my romantic pain as a young man was alleviated, in the company of the likes of Diane Keaton, Louise Lasser, Diane Wiest, Mia Farrow, Mariel Hemingway, Tony Bill, John Cusack, Jeff Daniels, Michael Caine, and Allen himself.  Allen spoke directly to me, like he was a wise college senior to my awkward freshman.  His intelligence was something I could aspire to, and his awkwardness something I could identify with, and not feel ashamed. Allen said it was okay to laugh, and so, I was able to laugh at myself.


"Sleeper", "Bananas", "Love and Death", "Interiors", "Manhattan", "Hannah and Her Sisters", "The Purple Rose of Cairo", "Radio Days", "Bullets Over Broadway", and my iconic favorite, the game-changer "Annie Hall", shaped my formative movie-going years, and my attitudes as to what a film could accomplish. They let me escape, not into fantasy, but into a vaguely familiar world that I could learn to manage. The laughter was healing.  A few of them may have saved my life on one or two occasions. 


My relationship with Allen's work has mellowed over the years.  I missed some of the later titles, but found the old enchantment in edgier works like "Match Point" and "Vicki Christina Barcelona".


With "Midnight in Paris", I feel like my painful adolescent and my wiser older self have come together to enjoy Allen's most magical piece of work since Alvy and Annie took that nostalgic trip to Coney Island.

Tonight! PBS Reviews the Career of Woody Allen-- Sunday Journal #1

PBS' wonderful series American Masters is about to broadcast a gift to movie-lovers everywhere, with the premiere of Woody Allen: A Documentary,  tonight at 8:00pm (Chicago time).


Filmmaker Robert B. Wiede was granted access to Allen on and off the sets of his latest films.  His two-part biography (part 2 airs tomorrow, Monday November 21 at 9pm, CST) promises to be a feast of comedy, clips, and insight into this singular intellect, artist and entertainer.

I am looking forward to a look back at Allen's early days as a standup comic and perennial late-night talk-show guest; his breakout as a gag-writer as well as a writer of some of the funniest books ever written ("Without Feathers"); his foray into filmmaking with his crude, awkward but devastating comedies ("What's Up, Tiger Lily?", "Take the Money and Run"); his famous and infamous romances with leading ladies (Diane Keaton, Mia Farrow), and his maturity into a filmmaker of depth and richness, a director of some all-time classics ("Annie Hall", of course, and "Manhattan", and now "Midnight in Paris").

If you are familiar with Allen only from his films of the last decade, or his notorious recent personal life; and you love movies; you owe it to yourself to check this program out. 


I hope it lives up to the buildup I have done here, and in my mind's eye!

 Later this week I will review the program, and describe my own "relationship" with Allen since I was a budding high-school film critic.


(Also up this week: reviews of "Like Crazy" and "Ides of March"... good movies both!)


Enjoy this clip from "American Masters: Woody Allen" offered by the PBS web site:

Woody Allen's "Midnight In Paris" A Fun and Literate Fantasy

"Midnight in Paris", an effervescent comic fantasy, is Woody Allen in top form.  Had anyone else but Allen written this finely layered, clever screenplay, I would have hailed the arrival of a formidable, original new cinematic talent.   For those who have stayed in Allen's corner through his career triumphs, as well as through some of the more recent misfires, "Midnight in Paris" is a return to the "conversation" that fans like myself have enjoyed with him through the years, as he grappled with his characteristic issues of modern love, art in all its forms, creativity, and the wonderful absurdity of life. 

"Midnight in Paris" returns Allen to the wistfulness and fragility of love ( "Annie Hall"), the comedic possibilities of past eras ("Midsummer Night's Sex Comedy", "Love and Death"), our relationships to fictional and literary heroes ("Purple Rose of Cairo"), and the complex alchemy of writing itself ("Manhattan").  This is the hopeful Allen of "Hannah and Her Sisters" and "Radio Days", blended with a new-found skill at complex plots, and the wisdom of perspective.  Allen even reconfirms his touch for the sight-gag belly-laugh.

"Midnight in Paris" examines the common fantasy that such a thing as "the good old days" ever existed. Who hasn't imagined that living at another time would have been more fun, innocent, whatever?  (I wished I could have been old enough to have attended Woodstock, to have been in the Haight-Ashbury or Central Park during the '60's youth movement, to have protested against Vietnam, to have met and spent time with Joni Mitchell, Crosby Stills and Nash, Arthur Penn, John Schlesinger, Dennis Hopper, and Pauline Kael, even though I know now how difficult the world was then.)

The vaguely dissatisfied protagonist of "Midnight in Paris" has a chance to inhabit an era that has captured his imagination and interact with the famous people who inspired him (like Cole Porter, Ernest Hemingway, F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald).  He is surprised to learn that people who live in his ideal time-period  are bored with their "present" and yearn for an idealized past of their own.  And so on.  This is treated with magic and humor, with gorgeous visuals and set-pieces, moving easily and convincingly between past and present, in which both periods of time comment on each other in surprising and hilarious ways. 

Allen has created a valentine to Paris in the same way he declared his love for New York City in his classic movies of the 1970's and '80's.

In a movie summer filled with generic super-heroes, computer effects and explosions, it was heartening to be among a packed house, in a multi-plex which is notorious for programming films for adolescent boys, and to hear loud applause at the end of "Midnight in Paris".  It confirms for me that there is a hunger among a large group of neglected moviegoers for summer films that offer laughs, food for thought, and  the drama of recognizable people in more or less real situations, even if the situations are the stuff of fairy tales.

Because, at heart, "Midnight in Paris" is a fairy tale.  It's a knowing, affectionate story of a hack screenwriter and would-be novelist Gil (Owen Wilson) in Paris with his increasingly distant fiancee Inez (Rachel McAdams).  As Inez spends more time with friends, including the insufferable pseudo-intellectual Paul (Michael Sheen), Gil walks the city at night and accepts an invitation to join a group of sophisticated party-goers in a vintage car.  Soon, to his disbelieving and excited eyes, he is in Paris of the 1920's and his dream of meeting his heroes comes true. 

His midnight visits continue, and there seems to be no rhyme or reason to how he is re-deposited into the present.  He gets advice from Hemingway and Gertrude Stein, learns Picasso's real intent behind a "new" painting, dances to Cole Porter live, and falls in love with a socialite Adriana (Marion Cotillard).  Just as Adriana becomes the embodiment of Gil's fantasy of the 1920's, she shakes his illusions by telling him that her world is boring, and she yearns to travel back even earlier, to the Belle Epoque.

Allen takes the threads and complications of the various stories he has created and ties them all together in the most satisfying way possible, so that in addition to reveling in his premise, he gives us the pleasures of classic movie romantic comedies. Gil's discussions with his new-found friends (who accept him with no questions) help him see the wayward path of his own life, and his connection to Porter leads him to unexpected love.  The things he learns "firsthand" leads to one of the film's biggest laughs, as he refutes the know-it-all Paul in an art gallery. 

I think it's possible for those who are unfamiliar with literary and artistic figures from the 1920's to enjoy the characters and situations presented in "Midnight in Paris".  However, for me, having at least some recognition of the "celebrities" involved makes it a deeper--and much funnier--experience.  The fact that Allen's Hemingway recites dialogue in the clipped manner in which Hemingway might have written it himself renders his scenes delightful.  I chuckled when Gil pitches a movie idea to the young Luis Bunuel that would eventually become "The Exterminating Angel", and Bunuel doesn't "get" it.   And who would have thought the utterance of the word "surrealists" would provide a good laugh.

At times, the film becomes akin to literary star-gazing (Oh look! There's T.S. Elliot!  And did you hear Kathy Bates' Gertrude Stein refer to Alice....?)  This is one aspect of the film that may work only the first time through.  The period scenes are so full of energy, and so nicely decorated, that the scenes in which Gil returns to present-day Paris threaten to slow down the film's momentum; but they do work as a way of demonstrating Gil's feeling of being trapped, until his fateful visit to an antique store.  And hey, it's Paris, so this portion of the film still has visual magic.  

(For the uninitiated, or for the lifelong learners among you, here is a New York Times article that provides some brief background on each of the people Gil meets in 1920's Paris.)

As Gil, Owen Wilson is rumpled and completely likable as an artist torn between two worlds.  He perfectly delivers  Allen's dialogue, and instead of giving it Allen's east-coast anxiety, he makes the words his own, sort of California "laid-back" with a strong Allen flavor.  I liked Wilson here more than in anything else I have seen him do (and I admit I have avoided some of the more raucous work.)

In fact, most of the performers here have never looked better.  Adrien Brody is hot as Salvador Dali, with his new pencil-moustache, and his charming obsession with the word "rhinoceros".  Kathy Bates is appropriately brusque and "artsy" as Gertude Stein, who proves to be Gil's mentor and savior. 

My favorite of the literary figures is Corey Stoll's Hemingway.  Stoll commands this role, and I couldn't take my eyes from him when he was on the screen.  If Hemingway was not this sexy and compelling, he should have been.  His best moment is delivering a line that all insecure writers understand: before reading Gil's manuscript, he claims he already doesn't like it, either because it will be badly written, or so well-done that he will be angry at his own inadequacies.  Stoll is perfect, and I will look for more of his work.

And is there a lovelier screen presence than Marion Cotillard is here?  One can see why Gil is instantly drawn to Adriana, and why he panics when she seeks to leave her era to travel back in time.  Cotillard is perfectly cast, almost typecast but to great effect. The camera drinks her in in closeup, and her eyes light every scene. Cotillard lends a lot of authenticity and adds the right amount of bittersweet to her romance with Gil. The film effectively makes use of Adrianna's diary to connect Gil's present with his travels back.  His romantic dilemma forms the central conflict in the film, which Allen resolves in a pleasantly predictable way.

With its intelligent writing, attractive cast performing at their best, and Allen's eye for camera placement and his inherent romanticism, this film scores in every department, and leaves audiences entertained and appreciative. It is too early, for me, to start making lists of the best films of 2011.  All the same, it would be difficult to imagine seeing anything I will enjoy more than  "Midnight in Paris."

Coming Up: Super-8 Memories, and Paris in the 1920's

With the release of the heavily-publicized new film "Super-8", it will be fun to share with my readers my first-hand accounts of making Super-8 movies. 

I have not seen the film. But if I were to make a movie titled "Super-8", there are a few things I would have to include.  That will form the basis of my next two posts: how we made movies then with the spare and simple equipment, and the saga of our masterpiece, a satire on "The Exorcist" called, of course, "The Exorcism".

Speaking of looking back into the past, my  review of Woody Allen's "Midnight in Paris" is coming soon.  In short...Witty and Terrific Fun.......

See you all this weekend....

"Hannah..." Revisited--Woody Allen and Reinvention: A Monday Journal

I wanted to turn my life into a grand opera...  But I think I will have to be content with a tone poem.

When I sought to "reinvent" myself, I had a vague notion that I wanted to achieve some great things.  Perhaps I would develop my life experience into playwriting, or create some novels.  I would add to my collection of short stories.  Maybe I would teach, and preserve the legacy of classic film and literature.  Or I would use my words to champion for helpless animals.

I channeled my myriad activities--reading, learning what I could from radio, Internet, and immersion in the culture of Chicago, travel, and widening my circle of interesting people--into a blog, and into other writing.  I became involved in learning a new language, and taking care of homeless dogs and supporting animal advocacy in many forms; in between my duties as a partner, a son, an employee, and a colleague.

It was easy at first, the broad-based approach, because it allowed me to rotate among a variety of activities.  While it took me longer to sharpen my focus, I was at least not bored.

Soon, time and the world seemed to cast an early shadow on my dreams. Time was running out before I could create my legacy.  I had far too many obligations to take the necessary time to lose myself, to endure the painful birth of my creativity.

Like yesterday:  we still had a glimmer of Daylight Saving Time, but overnight it seemed that days were growing shorter, and darkness came more suddenly.

It felt like I was leaving the party before it got started.  It felt a little like discouragement.  It felt impatient; like there was nothing new here, and I had to rush to an unknown horizon to find who-knows-what.

I questioned everything...and did not like what I saw of the larger world, the politics and corruption and pain....I even wondered if I had seen too many movies to keep my mind open...and it started to bleed into my work, so that the pure enjoyment was diminished.  Was it merely the end of naivete?  Can one dream and not be naive?

And soon, for a couple of hours, art was imitating life:

I re-visited Woody Allen's "Hannah and Her Sisters", which has been one of my favorite films, not just a favorite Woody Allen film. It's a sentimental story, beautifully woven and written, character-driven, and very funny.

I call it an epic of the intellect.  Allen's characters are like great, sweeping landscapes of ideas, each filled with treachery and beauty and humor.  "Hannah and Her Sisters" is a story of marital love and infidelity, the meaning of art, the fulfillment of performance, the search for spirituality.  Each character is looking for something; each life is ripe for change, usually involving the potential for loss and sacrifice.

Michael Caine is married to a warm and giving Mia Farrow, but wants to create a life with one of her sisters, Barbara Hershey.  Hershey's character has been molded by the attentions of  an older artist (Max Von Sydow), but feels suffocated, and needs to spread her wings and risk alienating her sister.  Farrow senses the alienation all around her, and begs for understanding that she is a woman of enormous needs.

Diane Wiest, the neurotic other sister, can't find her identity, and haplessly turns to drugs, auditions for impossible stage roles (she can't sing), competes with her poised and intelligent best friend (Carrie Fisher) for the attentions of an intriguing and romantic architect (Sam Waterston), and tries to write a play.

All of these actors reach career highs in this film, none more than Wiest.  Last week I watched her in "Bullets Over Broadway" and I was delighted by her portrayal of Helen St. Clair, the Broadway diva with the throaty voice and booming delivery ("Don't SPEAK!").  This was Wiest's masterpiece, made even more remarkable by her contrasting, mousy complexity in "Hannah".  (Wiest remains the only actor to win two Oscars in films by the same director.)

Most complex of all is Woody Allen's character, divorced from Mia Farrow after learning that he is "sterile" and can't father children with her, a hypochondriac who is certain he is dying of a brain tumor, a Jew who seeks life's meaning in other forms of spirituality.  His "conversion" to Catholicism makes for some of the film's biggest laughs.  Slipping into despair, he decides that life has no meaning whatsoever.  He buys a rifle.  He ineptly bungles his own suicide.

Wandering the streets in a panic, he finally ducks into a movie theater.  There, with the antics of the Marx Brothers unfolding before him, Allen decides that even if the worst is true, and life has no meaning, that it is still an experience to be a part of, and that it isn't all a drag.  In the presence of zany humor, he begins to enjoy himself.

Somewhere, a person in the throes of melancholy may encounter "Hannah and Her Sisters", maybe for the first time, or maybe for the tenth.  That viewer may, like Allen did with the Marx Brothers, find comfort in its humor and in its encouragement to find enjoyment in whatever pleasures life may offer (be they movies, or books, or dogs, or writing?)  Maybe, like Allen he will be surprised to find, some time later, that his life is not "sterile" after all....