Colin Swan, CC BY-SA 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons
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By Geoff Carter
In The New Wave 2.0 series, The Pen in Hand Blog will be examining the work of today’s most provocative and influential filmmakers, artists whose singular filmic stylings and compelling storytelling have stretched the boundaries of cinema. Drawing upon Francois Truffaut’s definition of an auteur, these pieces will be looking at writer/directors whose singular works have transcended the art of filmmaking and taken it into the realm of genius. This week, The Pen in Blog will be looking at the idiosyncratic comedic—and thoughtful—stylings of Woody Allen.
Manhattan Melodies: The Films of Woody Allen
Nearly everyone who’s been in a movie theater is familiar with the elfin figure, that ubiquitous anxiety, whiny voice, oversized glasses, and comic genius of Woody Allen. He’s cultivated the persona—or shtick—of the neurotically unhappy (but funny) New York Jew to an art form. From his early days as a television writer and his stand-up career to his early films, Allen made that comic persona the centerpiece of his films. Take the Money and Run, Play it Again, Sam, Sleeper, Love and Death, Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex*, and Bananas were either penned or co-written by Allen, who starred in all of them as the luckless schlep who can never seem to get the girl—or get anything right.
However, in his later films, Allen started to place that persona into more sophisticated narratives featuring much more deeply complex characters. Annie Hall was the watershed point into this progression. The main character Alvy Singer (Allen—who else?) falls in love with Annie Hall (Diane Keaton) a ditzy but adorable Midwesterner whom Singer (as the sophisticated New Yorker) takes under his wing. Not only was the semi-serious romantic tone of the film a departure for Allen, but his use of edgy cinematic techniques—including the use of subtitles to describe what characters are actually thinking beneath a veneer of small talk, double exposures of characters to illustrate thought and action (Annie and Annie), and cutaways to visual representations of what characters think (Grammy seeing her first Jew in Chippewa Falls) show the beginnings of a departure from film as a sheer comic vehicle.
After Annie Hall, Allen experimented with Interiors, a Bergman-like family drama and then filmed Manhattan, a beautifully wrought ode to New York City in which Allen plays Isaac Davis, a divorced television writer who is (very eerily—considering Allen’s personal life) dating a seventeen-year-old high school student, Tracy (Mariel Hemingway). Despite himself, Isaac falls for Mary Wilkie (Diane Keaton) a difficult and complicated woman, who ultimately—and capriciously—throws him over. When he attempts to return to Tracy, she tells him to wait for her and “have some faith in people,” but the priceless expression on Alvy’s face speaks to how hard that is for him.
With the films Hannah and Her Sisters and Broadway Danny Rose, Allen continued to explore the themes of relationships, trust, family, and redemption. In Hannah, Allen continues playing the lovable loser trying to find meaning in a meaningless world while his ex-in-laws start (eerily—considering Allen’s personal life) dallying in incestuous relationships. In Broadway Danny Rose, he plays the titular role of a benevolent Broadway agent who represents probably the worst acts in New York, but who refuses to give up on them. When any of his acts gains a modicum of success, they ultimately move on to more reputable representation, so Danny—through his own benevolence—is fated to never enjoy success.
Allen has continually experimented with different cinematic genres, including the psychological thriller Match Point, fantasy excursions like Midnight in Paris and The Purple Rose of Cairo, black comedies like Manhattan Murder Mystery and Bullets over Broadway, and even a stint at documentary filmmaking with the brilliant Zelig and the mockumentary Sweet and Lowdown. He has loosely adapted works from Shakespeare with his A Midsummer Night’s Sex Comedy, Chekov with September, and Fellini with his Alice.
Even though his work has spanned decades, incorporated dozens of technical innovations, creating films that are landmarks of the American cinema, it is always possible to recognize a Woody Allen movie—even when he’s not in it. The snappy dialogue, astute characterizations, and sophisticated writing are trademarks of an Allen work, but the common thread lying beneath nearly all his work is a constant and unrequited yearning. His characters move from relationship to relationship, seemingly never satisfied with their situations. In Hannah and Her Sisters, Elliot (Michal Caine) jeopardizes his marriage to the perfect woman, Hannah (Mia Farrow) by sleeping with her sister (Barbara Hershey). In the searing comedy Celebrity, Lee Simon (Kenneth Branagh) leaves his wife to immerse himself into a decadent celebrity culture only to discover he has made a dreadful and immutable mistake.
The list goes on and on. Under the veneer of comic situations, wisecracking protagonists, and even slapstick, Allen’s work taps into an undercurrent of sadness and longing. For many Allen characters, happiness is an illusion, a phantasm floating just beyond their reach. This is probably most evident in Allen’s masterpiece Blue Jasmine, a reimagining of A Streetcar Named Desire, in which the protagonist Jasmine (Cate Blanchett) is forced to piece together her life after the suicide of her husband. Desperate to reattain her status in society, Jasmine lies and manipulates everyone her and in the end is left to face her complicity and guilt in her situation. She has created her own emptiness.
Woody Allen is the definition of an auteur. He has brought a unique and singular vision to the cinema. His humor, pathos, ingenuity, and genius in rendering his vision onto the screen is remarkable. Whether it’s the melancholy tone of a Sweet and Lowdown or the painful self-discovery of a Celebrity or a Blue Jasmine, or the whimsical flights of a Midnight in Paris or Everybody Says I Love You, Woody Allen never fails to bring us the heart and soul of a big city talent.