Tag: Mia Farrow

Film by Alex Sheremet
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Stills of Woody Allen and Juliette Lewis (Rain) flirting in his 1992 film "Husbands and Wives", with Woody appearing much older and more haggard, as analyzed and reviewed by the world's top Woody Allen expert, Alex Sheremet, for the automachination literary magazine.

In The Dark: Analyzing Woody Allen’s “Husbands And Wives” (1992)

Although Woody’s last couple of films were underrated, they were not great works, by any means. It would take two years for Woody to return with another true drama, and thus triumphantly close his decade-and-a-half Golden Age. In some ways, Husbands and Wives is the most pure look at ‘Woody’ relationships, and one of the more intimate and best films of his career. In short, if ANNIE HALL was a kind of grown-up ‘first’ for Woody as well as Alvy Singer, and MANHATTAN too odd — it dealt with a grown man and a seventeen year-old girl, after all — or HANNAH AND HER SISTERS too marred by the ‘big problems’ of infidelity, familial conflict, and the like, to really get at the core of romance itself, this film merely examines the inner workings of two marriages, and what the interactions in one say of the events in the other, and vice-versa. It is, then, the most vanilla of the aforementioned films, but while there are no truly arresting visuals, no haunting metaphors, nor moments of ‘perfect poetry’ or scoring, this in no way detracts from what the film actually does. It is hyper-realistic, down to the documentary style, complete with questions and answers that shed light (and not) on those involved, and the quick edits and ‘jagged’ handheld camera that gets into the actors’ faces, showing not only why their marriages disintegrate, but also how the characters themselves are part of a self-imposed pattern they do not understand. […]

Film by Alex Sheremet
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A still from Woody Allen's "Crimes and Misdemeanors," showing a black-and-white Woody Allen appearing nervous, set against Anjelica Huston's lifeless eyes and colorful body, as reviewed and analyzed by the world's leading Woody Allen critic, Alex Sheremet, for automachination literary magazine.

Art of Crime: Analyzing Woody Allen’s “Crimes and Misdemeanors” (1989)

If “Another Woman” is a great film that hasn’t yet received its due, then “Crimes and Misdemeanors” is a widely-praised film whose greatness, while generally acknowledged, is often misunderstood. At its core, the film is not only about a hyper-realistic killer (as opposed to merely a ‘torn,’ freakish, or symbolic one), but also about the winners and losers that surround him, who not only shed light on his import, but on the lives and personalities of millions just like him. In fact, it is one of the film’s seemingly most throwaway lines — “might makes right” — that brings this idea to the fore, even as it obscures some more nuanced moments. To see it in action, one simply needs to look at how the film’s relationships bud and die. Halley rejects Cliff because he’s a loser, and falls for the vapid and loathsome Lester because he’s a success. A stranger humiliates Cliff’s naive, lonely sister merely because he can, and she’s only too willing. Dolores is not only killed, but her utter shallowness is remembered by Judah, even after her death, wherein she confuses musical composers, or waxes poetic on the eyes being “windows to the soul,” despite us knowing that her own eyes were empty, with neither definition nor identity when she was killed. Yet, for all this, it is Judah at the center of it all, and it’s Judah who, far more than being a mere symbol or plaything, is something far more real. He is ‘just another guy’ living at home, raising his kids, going to work, and giving to charity, separated only by the style and the frequency of his rationalizations, while the fact that he is ultimately a “winner,” to use Dan Schneider’s word,[1] affirms the Bible’s oft-ignored dictum: for whoever has, more shall be given, but whoever does not have, even that shall be taken away. This is ‘might’ as it begets might, and riches for the Judah Rosenthals, but even as Judah argues at film’s end, no fairy tales, nor happy endings.

The film begins with a celebration of Judah Rosenthal’s (Martin Landau) philanthropy at an event, whose praise is interspersed with other scenes, such as Judah receiving a letter from his mistress, Dolores, earlier that day, who threatens to reveal all to his family if he doesn’t break off his marriage. Thus, against genre tropes, some of his flaws are already laid out, even as Judah gives his speech, spliced with poetic images of the boy at prayer, quoting his father’s comment, “the eyes of God are on us always.” Judah, now a religious ophthalmologist, wonders if such words could have influenced his choice of profession, a ‘noble’ question which is immediately paired with another scene of Judah confronting Dolores (Anjelica Huston) at her apartment, as he promises to “work something out.” It’s an interesting choice, for even now one gets a realistic look at how most people deal with or otherwise treat religion, as things for comment or even genuine personal growth, only to renege in 99%+ of moments where it ceases to apply. This is a clue to Judah’s later behavior, given the clear “flexibility” (to borrow Schneider’s word again) of his morals now.

Film by Alex Sheremet
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A shot of the women in Woody Allen's "Hannah and Her Sisters" (1986), which includes the director, Dianne Wiest, Mia Farrow, and Barbara Hershey, receiving instructions from Woody Allen, and reviewed and analyzed by the world's leading Woody Allen critic, Alex Sheremet, for the automachination literary magazine.

GREATNESS 101: Analyzing Woody Allen’s “Hannah and Her Sisters” (1986)

Although the popularity of “Hannah and Her Sisters” made Woody Allen doubt the quality of his own film, it remains one of those rare accomplishments that is both truly great, and well-loved — two things that are in fact quite different, for the latter is based on attachments and on whims, which cannot be argued, while the former involves reason, evidence, and objectivity in its claims, which can therefore be evaluated. I do not like (much less ‘love’) the film, for reasons immaterial to it and therefore uninteresting to anyone who wants to know something of the art-work, itself. Yet I still wish for it to be seen; know that it needs to be seen, until its meditations and its wisdom are the viewer’s, and so that future film-makers can use it as a stepping-stone for great characters, complex interactions, subtle ironies, poetic inversions, and ‘twists’ that seem to be mere plot devices, yet say, in fact, much about the characters themselves, and what they have or have not learned. I’d go recommend it, but its enduring popularity already takes care of that. Instead, I’d like to discuss why the film works, for reasons beyond mere love or mass appeal, so that similar things could be observed and championed in Woody’s other films, including those still being wrongly overlooked.

In some ways, “Hannah and Her Sisters” revisits the same tropes of Interiors, with a seemingly talented artist, Hannah (Mia Farrow), a ‘sore loser’ and drug user, Holly (Dianne Wiest), and a half-lost woman, Lee (Barbara Hershey), who, perhaps out of envy or resentment, starts an affair with Hannah’s husband, Elliot (Michael Caine). In fact, the film begins with Elliot mesmerized by Lee during a Thanksgiving party, an interesting twist that immediately puts the viewer into the mind of a romantic, subverted by the fact that he’s essentially a creep. As the dinner progresses, Holly asks for money, Lee wonders about Elliot’s feelings, and the three sisters gab while their aging parents sing Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered on the piano — one of the film’s key songs, which turns into a trope whose import only comes later. As Hannah is complimented all around, one gets the feeling that she is both meek and self-congratulatory, for such moments are well-acted enough that one doesn’t know whether she’s puffing herself up at the expense of her sisters, or merely being matter-of-fact. Lee goes back to her apartment with her boyfriend, Frederick (Max von Sydow), an overbearing, misanthropic older artist, while Hannah’s former husband, Mickey (Woody Allen), a television producer, makes his first appearance as a stressed hypochondriac. He’s subjected to endless medical tests due to his constant worrying, at one point even fantasizing about his own impending death due to a non-existent tumor. This, then, is the film’s make-up, for the main characters’ issues are all played against Mickey’s, whose silliness highlights the silliness of their own self-inflicted problems, even as they evade or obfuscate, and downright magnify them as being ‘deeper’ than they really are. Yes, it is a borrowing from earlier films like Annie Hall, but goes beyond it as it approaches similar subjects — death, love, and other human relationships — more deeply, probing, as it does, far more than ‘mere’ romance. […]