Annie Hall

1977 romantic comedy

Rating: 18/20

Plot: A comedian has an on-again/off-again romance with a singer. Lobsters. 

The lobster redux sequence is heartbreaking, and whenever I think about this movie, it's always the first thing that I think about. 

It's not easy to love a Woody Allen movie in 2019, but I can't help it because this movie is just too good not to love. The rapport between Woody Allen and Diane Keaton keeps this so breezy, and the whole thing is like some sort of comedy jazz stylings complete with riffs and solos. Though it's difficult to enjoy Woody Allen in 2019, Keaton's Annie was probably extraordinarily easy to fall in love with. A lot of this movie is about enjoying the time you have while you're alive on planet earth, ignoring the fact that the universe is expanding because it's not really any of your business. These characters aren't always the most likable human beings, but you unquestionably enjoy spending time with them. 

What else is this movie about? Being thankful that you're miserable, a similarity with Pixar's Inside-Out maybe. The topic of hostility comes up again and again, but I'm not sure I agree with Allen and his co-writer (Marshall Brickman) that any of the characters are hostile. I'd say it's closer to something like neuroses, although I guess a person's neurosis can lead to hostility. This fragmented love story also brings up--overtly or subtly--the idea of the physical vs. the intellectual. Neither of the characters can drive (the first drive with Keaton is one heck of an action sequence), a real problem since their relationship is in clear need of a driver. They navigate clumsily, engage in a few high speed chases, break down a few times, sputter around for a few blocks, gaze at the headlights of other cars. Sex, or the absence of sex, pops up here and there. Of course. By the end, geography becomes a metaphor and Keaton is Los Angeles and its cleanliness and Christmas carols while Allen is New York and it's filthy streets and middle fingers. 

Meanwhile, Jeff Goldblum tries to remember his mantra, Christopher Walken shares his own story about cars and driving, and Paul Simon has creepster hair. 

The rapport keeps this all breezy, but there's a playfulness to the direction that helps as well. 4th wall bashing, subtitles during a conversation that reveals the characters' secret thoughts, disembodied characters, split-screen use during family dinners or analysis sessions, omniscient pedestrians, Scrooge-like flashback hopping, a cartoon interlude, very clever juxtapositions. There are lots of tricks, but it never feels like Allen is showing off. Perhaps his best trick is somehow making a flashback montage work. Those never work, but one near the end of this one does.