Woody Allen's best comedy since "Manhattan Murder Mystery," maybe even since the seventies. Maybe his best comedy, period. It's precise, broad, subtle and totally endearing, with over-the-top characterizations with honest (and very personal) feelings bubbling underneath. It's a comic triumph and an emotional one, and apart from all that, it's visually perfect. That means, every colour is right, every shot is on point and even the choreography and blocking of the characters work toward a certain purpose. And it's got the right soundtrack. The title is "Whatever Works," and it seems Allen's finally figured that out for himself in creating what's got to be his most assured and artistically confident film to date.
Of course barely anyone's noticed, since by all accounts and purposes it's "just another Woody Allen movie." People toss a phrase like that around casually, not like they would say, "just another Hitchcock," or "just another Bergman." Woody Allen's been one of the most prolific and consistently adventurous American directors for more than forty years and he still doesn't get the credit he deserves. Maybe critics are so familiar with him, year after year, that a new Woody Allen movie doesn't seem like much of a discovery. I don't know. He's made a strange run this decade, starting off with light, old-school comedies and then descending into dark waters with "Match Point," "Scoop," "Cassandra's Dream," and "Vicky Cristina Barcelona." "Match Point" might be the best movie he's ever made, but apart from that, "Vicky Cristina Barcelona" gets most of the praise out of his 00 releases.
But "Vicky Cristina Barcelona" was a flat, mechanical sex comedy, tired and disinterested in its characters. Not a bad movie, and the performance of Penelop Cruz makes it especially worthwhile, but it seemed more of an intellectual exercise than a real artistic statement. Perhaps he was just warming up Because "Whatever Works" is a sex comedy that, well, works. It's less about the physical charm of its characters and far more interested in their feelings, opinions, beliefs and self-deceptions. Nobody is posing here, or interested in it. The protagonist is Boris Yelnikoff, played by Seinfeld-creator, comedian and non-actor Larry David. He's a cold, condescending, intellectual brute – talking down to everyone, his friends, enemies, even you, in the audience. An ex-physicist, ex-husband, he now inhabits a shabby apartment he makes his fortress of solitude, keeping himself safe from the outside world, which he deems as not intelligent enough to deserve him. He's your typical over-thinking, depressed cynic, grown to full potential in his own age.
In walks Melody (Evan Rachel Wood), a young Southern runaway about one-half as "smart" as Boris thinks he is and a hundred times more in touch with her emotions. If you think you see where it's going – well, of course you do. Is it a male fantasy? Yes, but not for Woody Allen – it's more of a reality. He's writing about what he knows, and Wood's performance, along with the writing, make it impossible to see her as any sort of victim. She might not be keen enough to see David's "intellectual" as the cynic that he is, but she's sharp enough, emotionally, to sense another wounded soul, a man insecure and abandoned, and when she responds to him emotionally, she recognizes and understands that response.
So they get married. The septuagenarian and the twentysomething. And it's happy, for a time, before Melody's zealous fundamentalist parents (Patricia Clarkson and Ed Begley Jr.) come knocking at Boris' door. These two, and the paths they take, are where Allen demonstrates the titular theme to its logical destination. It's not a very profound or complicated message – "whatever makes you happy" – but like many movies, it takes something we already know and shows us, in a new way, exactly what that means. It may be frightening, to some. Christians may be offended by its treatment of their beliefs, but they should ask themselves if the type of Christianity Clarkson and Begley's characters are practising in this movie is particularly healthy for them – and, by extension, people like them that exist in real life. And there's a bit of homosexuality that comes as a surprise late in the film, that might make some straight males in the audience a little uncomfortable, but I say – good! Let them face it, rather than ignore it.
Where the movie is most subversive is in its treatment of Boris Yelnikoff, the narrator. You know people like him. The movie starts with a four-minute monologue delivered by him into the camera. He's mean, and smart enough to know when and how to be mean to inflict the most hurt, while always keeping himself the logical centre of any argument. Unfortunately, in his old age, that's all he knows, despite his constant assertions that he's the smartest and everyone else is an "inchworm" or a "mental midget." David's delivery is hammering, but always with traces of a smile, he's a fairly insecure fellow. Really, he just wants to be liked, and his brains are clearly the only way he thinks he can make that happen. Allen and David never allow him to show a trace of vulnerability, but that is their strategy, and one extended close-up is particularly shattering (you'll know the one I mean).
In the end Boris must face - and accept - something that renders all his brains and beliefs totally useless. It's the only way he can be happy. His change is handled off-screen, casually, but you'll sense a big difference in the final scene. He's been humbled. And Allen's taken us there in a movie that's funny, occasionally mean (but to an honourable purpose) and visually intricate. There are tiny touches that evoke Bergman, particularly "Persona," "Saraband," and especially "Fanny and Alexander," of which this movie is practically a remake of. See it.
9/10
Of course barely anyone's noticed, since by all accounts and purposes it's "just another Woody Allen movie." People toss a phrase like that around casually, not like they would say, "just another Hitchcock," or "just another Bergman." Woody Allen's been one of the most prolific and consistently adventurous American directors for more than forty years and he still doesn't get the credit he deserves. Maybe critics are so familiar with him, year after year, that a new Woody Allen movie doesn't seem like much of a discovery. I don't know. He's made a strange run this decade, starting off with light, old-school comedies and then descending into dark waters with "Match Point," "Scoop," "Cassandra's Dream," and "Vicky Cristina Barcelona." "Match Point" might be the best movie he's ever made, but apart from that, "Vicky Cristina Barcelona" gets most of the praise out of his 00 releases.
But "Vicky Cristina Barcelona" was a flat, mechanical sex comedy, tired and disinterested in its characters. Not a bad movie, and the performance of Penelop Cruz makes it especially worthwhile, but it seemed more of an intellectual exercise than a real artistic statement. Perhaps he was just warming up Because "Whatever Works" is a sex comedy that, well, works. It's less about the physical charm of its characters and far more interested in their feelings, opinions, beliefs and self-deceptions. Nobody is posing here, or interested in it. The protagonist is Boris Yelnikoff, played by Seinfeld-creator, comedian and non-actor Larry David. He's a cold, condescending, intellectual brute – talking down to everyone, his friends, enemies, even you, in the audience. An ex-physicist, ex-husband, he now inhabits a shabby apartment he makes his fortress of solitude, keeping himself safe from the outside world, which he deems as not intelligent enough to deserve him. He's your typical over-thinking, depressed cynic, grown to full potential in his own age.
In walks Melody (Evan Rachel Wood), a young Southern runaway about one-half as "smart" as Boris thinks he is and a hundred times more in touch with her emotions. If you think you see where it's going – well, of course you do. Is it a male fantasy? Yes, but not for Woody Allen – it's more of a reality. He's writing about what he knows, and Wood's performance, along with the writing, make it impossible to see her as any sort of victim. She might not be keen enough to see David's "intellectual" as the cynic that he is, but she's sharp enough, emotionally, to sense another wounded soul, a man insecure and abandoned, and when she responds to him emotionally, she recognizes and understands that response.
So they get married. The septuagenarian and the twentysomething. And it's happy, for a time, before Melody's zealous fundamentalist parents (Patricia Clarkson and Ed Begley Jr.) come knocking at Boris' door. These two, and the paths they take, are where Allen demonstrates the titular theme to its logical destination. It's not a very profound or complicated message – "whatever makes you happy" – but like many movies, it takes something we already know and shows us, in a new way, exactly what that means. It may be frightening, to some. Christians may be offended by its treatment of their beliefs, but they should ask themselves if the type of Christianity Clarkson and Begley's characters are practising in this movie is particularly healthy for them – and, by extension, people like them that exist in real life. And there's a bit of homosexuality that comes as a surprise late in the film, that might make some straight males in the audience a little uncomfortable, but I say – good! Let them face it, rather than ignore it.
Where the movie is most subversive is in its treatment of Boris Yelnikoff, the narrator. You know people like him. The movie starts with a four-minute monologue delivered by him into the camera. He's mean, and smart enough to know when and how to be mean to inflict the most hurt, while always keeping himself the logical centre of any argument. Unfortunately, in his old age, that's all he knows, despite his constant assertions that he's the smartest and everyone else is an "inchworm" or a "mental midget." David's delivery is hammering, but always with traces of a smile, he's a fairly insecure fellow. Really, he just wants to be liked, and his brains are clearly the only way he thinks he can make that happen. Allen and David never allow him to show a trace of vulnerability, but that is their strategy, and one extended close-up is particularly shattering (you'll know the one I mean).
In the end Boris must face - and accept - something that renders all his brains and beliefs totally useless. It's the only way he can be happy. His change is handled off-screen, casually, but you'll sense a big difference in the final scene. He's been humbled. And Allen's taken us there in a movie that's funny, occasionally mean (but to an honourable purpose) and visually intricate. There are tiny touches that evoke Bergman, particularly "Persona," "Saraband," and especially "Fanny and Alexander," of which this movie is practically a remake of. See it.
9/10