Annie Hall

Woody Allen's masterpiece with favorite co-star Diane Keaton has Allen casting himself as New York born comedian Alvy Singer and his relationship with Keaton in the title role. Annie Hall is one of those films you can watch four or five times and pick up a bit of humor and/or philosophy that you missed the first time.

Allen is playing himself in Annie Hall, a successful comedian who spends most of his time psychoanalyzing himself and all around him. He can't make any relationship permanent.

Along comes Keaton and it looks like this is the one, but there's always pitfalls when you deal with a walking neurosis like Allen.

Both Woody and Diane fit so naturally in their parts you think you are peeking in on a home movie. Annie Hall won for Best Picture, Best Actress for Diane Keaton, and Best Director and Best Original Screenplay for Woody Allen. Best in the supporting cast is Tony Roberts as Allen's sidekick actor buddy.

This really is a timeless classic. It's humor has no temporal limits. Annie Hall can be made today with the same script and you wouldn't lose a scintilla of humor.

The film that bested Star Wars for the 1977 Best Picture Oscar, Annie Hall is a remarkable achievement in filmmaking that transcends its simple, romantic premise to create a stunning portrait of not only 70's pop culture, but of human nature cumulative. Directed and co-written by Woody Allen, who has since directed other gems such as Hannah and Her Sisters and The Purple Rose of Cairo, Annie Hall also stars Allen as Alvy Singer, a neurotic, death-obsessed comedian who seems unlucky in love and life. That is until he meets Annie, brilliantly played by Diane Keaton, who is beautiful, fashion-savvy, carefree (she likes using expressions like `la di da'), and a terrible driver.

Annie and Alvy's relationship is an unlikely one. She's a Midwestern girl, straight out of white-bread Wisconsin; he's a life-long New York Jew who grew up (literally) under the Coney Island roller coaster. He's been seeing a therapist for the past 16 years; she only `needs' one once she meets him. She's an extroverted aspiring singer; he's an introverted, world-despising imp. Yet Allen and Keaton are so perfect in their roles, they improbably make this couple one of the most memorable ever.

The plot revolves around Alvy's chronicles of loves lost and a retrospective on his relationship with Annie, with whom he has since parted ways. At the end of the film, we see Alvy try his hand at stage-writing-he writes a play about his relationship with Annie, but gives it a happy ending. Yes, Annie and Alvy don't have a fairy tale ending to their relationship, but Alvy certainly wishes they had, even though he learns to live with the acknowledgment it has failed.

The best part of Annie Hall is its incredible screenplay-the best ever to be written. Not a word is wasted nor a line unquotable. Except here, while Allen's early films had thrived on streams of one-liners, Allen doesn't go for cheap laughs-each line is simultaneously hilarious and poignant. Everything is part of a greater whole. We laugh because it's funny, but there's a greater dynamic at work in Annie Hall. This is a story not exclusively about a relationship between two people, but also a musing on 70's politics, drugs, East Coast/West Coast rivalry, narcissism, religion, celebrity, and several other topics with which Allen deals with extraordinary ease.

Yet Annie Hall would not be among my favorite films of all-time if it were just Woody Allen ranting and raving about what he likes and dislikes. There are other Allen films that serve that purpose, i.e. Deconstructing Harry, and they're not nearly as good. What separates Annie Hall is its grace, the believable chemistry between Keaton and Allen, the unique direction (ranging from split-screens to cartoon imagery to on-screen subtitles of what the actors are thinking), but mostly because it's the rare film to find a perfect balance between sheer entertainment, humor, and poignancy.

When the dust had settled, Diane Keaton deservedly won an Academy Award for her performance, Allen took home Oscars for direction and writing, and the film beat out Star Wars for Best Picture, which most people consider a complete sham. Evidently, those people didn't see Annie Hall, for if they had, they'd recognize that the acting, writing, and even the direction in Star Wars can't hold a candle to Annie Hall, one of the best films ever made.

10/10

Another world according to Woody, with some especially acute observations and witticisms about almost everything, but always with an exceptionally pessimistic pass. Flows fluently from beginning to end, seldom comes up for air and leaves us with an overflowing half full glass of confusion, misery and despair but always with perspective and a few chuckles.

Woody is an intelligent man who worries about the issues of film-making. The primary concern, the very first problem, is always to decide what the relationships are among the audience, the camera, the narrator if any, and the characters.

Woody was on his way to making a murder mystery, which is the purest form of messing about with these relationships. In a much studied decision, they decided to cut out all the mystery and just focus on the context. In this case, that context is a richly layered evocation of a relationship. I really wish I could see the original film to discover the mysteries Woody intended to hide in the folds.

And the folds are as numerous and complex as they can get. We have a framing device where Woody speaks to us partly as a conversation which blends into a standup, which is mirrored as a part of the story. We have timeshifting where we move back and forth in time in a simple 'Tarantino' way; but we go way past: characters from the 'present' enter the past as Dickensian ghosts, then they talk to characters in the past. we have characters in different pasts talking to each other via split screen. We have a layering of Woody and Diane's relationship in real life, then the film, then TWO films within: a play which is part of the action and a cartoon which is the action itself.

More: we have Woody talking to the audience as if we were shifted into the play -- early in that play we are introduced to Bergman and Fellini: in both cases while they are waiting outside. These are the two inventors of folded narrative. Even more: while some bozo perfessor spouts off about Fellini and McLuhan, Woody enlists the audience to challenge him and drags out McLuhan himself! The joke of course is that McLuhan himself was a vapid weaver of lowbrow theories.

And more and more with the constant weaving of 'analysis' and other film-like activities: singers, photographers, TeeVee stars, models...

This period was when he was first exposed to Wallace Shawn who was hanging out with Terrence Malick, two other innovators in narrative folding. All the 'New Yorker' stuff means more when you know Shawn's father was the long-time editor of that publication and defined the self-absorbed reflection that characterizes the city and this film.

Keaton's manner was essential to pulling this off, someone who could pull off the story about her uncle dying while waiting for a Turkey. Watch her.. she is clued in to simultaneously being in herself (Keaton), herself (Hall), inside the story she is telling and inside the story Woody is telling. She shifts and guffaws just as if she were stoned and moving among realities, just as her character.

Just amazing and intelligent. Will we ever see this the way it was written and shot? Or is that mystery too intelligent for us, who prefer to think of this as a funny, endearing love story.

Woody Allen's seminal 1977 romantic comedy "Annie Hall" is not only laugh-out-loud funny (with some of the most quotable dialogue ever written for the screen...this is the "Casablanca" of comedies, folks) but also sweet and charming (due in large part because of Diane Keaton's smashing performance as the title character, the flighty singer from Wisconsin with a quirky fashion sense and "neat" outlook on life) without ever turning trite or sappy like so many romantic comedies tend to do. Allen wisely deconstructed the genre with his non-linear story-line (something that was later done to even greater effect with a more recent and profound look at relationships, "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind") and charming little theatrical tricks like talking to the audience or pulling extras into the scene for their opinions on what's been going on. It keeps the viewer off guard and allows for a free flow of comedic and philosophical ideas that might otherwise not have found their way into a more traditional film.

In his latter years, Allen's best work has been when he is not part of the cast (my personal favorites being "Bulletts over Broadway," "Sweet and Lowdown," and the recent "Match Point"). "Annie Hall" was made in his heyday when he could still pull off playing a neurotic New York Jewish comedienne with charm and panache. There's something innocent and benign about his obsessions here, as this was long before the Woody/Soon-Yi fiasco and the days of grossly miscasting himself against younger female co-stars. Yes, Mr. Allen has been artsier (witness "Manhattan") and more satirical (witness "Zelig") but here, with Diane Keaton as his muse, he was never more charming or funnier.