You get to stage with Woody Allen films where the dialogue seems to swirl with his other films and your trying just to keep track if the film was at least grounded enough to be relatable to relationships or just airing the directors lifetime complaints and anxiety issues. This is his better ones if you have to start then make it a Manhattan, shooting in black and white also highlights the gorgeous cinematography.
It's amazing to me how many people fall for his bullshit. It's all up there on the screen. He has a beautiful wife played by Meryl Streep, but he makes her into a lesbian shrew so he can sleep with Mariel, who's only 18. We know that he actually likes them even younger. The amazing part is how he plays reluctant and he has his friends talk him into it. People don't care. It's like "throwing pennies at a battleship".
Allen's bittersweet love letter to NYC still stands as one of his great films amongst many. The scripting and performances are quite magic as is the photography of Gordon Willis. Mariel Hemingway is heartbreaking as the young Tracy and Michael Murphy makes a great impression as Yale. At the heart of it all is a wonderful romanticism brought to life by the titular borough.
Even if one were to divorce Allen's directorial efforts from his real-life actions, his films still stink to high heaven. The man was a pusillanimous twerp who always made smarmy little therapy sessions disguised as films that rambled on and on (and on...) about his trifling neuroses. Who cares! A chic aesthetic means nothing if the content is this repugnant and dull.
La Rapsodia in Blu di Gershwin apre magnificamente il sipario su una New York resa ancora più fascinosa dalla bellissima fotografia ed un bianco e nero suggestivo, che fa da palcoscenico per una delle opere meglio riuscite del regista americano. L'umorismo di Allen è sempre pseudo-intellettuale, ma estremamente credibile, efficace e quasi mai forzato. Una sorprendentemente divertente cartolina dalla Grande Mela.
For a biography of a (supposedly) ever changing and sleepless city, "Manhattan" offers a non-story that ends by retreating to pretty much the same situation and problems it began with, even shamelessly admiring its own defeat. I prefer Woody Allen when he's creatively challenging his anxieties, not when the film's denouement is basically selfish, borderline pathological, fixation on himself.