An eighty year-old makes a movie.
A four year-old rides a bicycle.
Not a top-of–the-line performance, perhaps. But it’s kind of remarkable they are doing it
at all.
I don’t know what kind of movie I’d make if I were eighty.
Although what difference does that
make? I am reminded of the teenaged audience
member who, after watching the pilot filming of Best of the West and was
asked, “What did you think?” thoughtfully replied, “It’s better than I could do.”
What kind of cockamamie standard is that?
Woody Allen has written and directed forty-something
features films, some I really enjoyed, some I didn’t, and some I didn’t bother
to go to, though not necessarily in that order.
(Making movies seems to be Woody Allen’s reason for getting up in the
morning. My reason for getting up in the morning is to avoid lying
lifelessly in bed going, “You mean yesterday was it?”)
It’s been a while since Woody Allen’s cinematic
counterpart’s cryogenically preserved body was rolled out on a gurney encased
head-to-toe in aluminum foil (Sleeper). Or a South American dictator proclaimed that
all citizens must henceforth wear their underwear on the outside of their
clothing (Bananas). Or there was a chain-gang escapee sent to
jail for “dancing with a mailman” and another for “marrying a horse” (Take the Money and Run).
Youthful mishigus. (“Mishigus” means foolishness. “Youthful” you already know.) That stuff is not coming back. Where did it go? Wherever my hair disappeared to, it is keeping
company with youthful mishigus. And
my taste for powdered sugar sucked through a licorice straw. I cannot believe I once saw that as a
delectable “taste treat”.
Café Society looks
spectacular. Especially the gold-infused
Hollywood segments. (The New York
segments remind me of walking the streets and getting soot in my eyes. But I wasn’t born there. Maybe as kids, they learn to sidestep the
debris.) The story and dialogue are
professional in the extreme, “the extreme” meaning they are more deliberately
constructed than actual life. Or Annie Hall or Manhattan.
Again, I am not a film critic, so no talk about set
decoration and lighting. (I did mention the golden hue of the
Hollywood segments but that could
have been the actual sunset.)
What’s left to talk about?
How Café Society
makes you feel.
Dr. M referred to its overall
impression as “cold.”
I’ll meet her three-quarters of the way on that four-letter
assessment.
To me, it felt old.
An old person makes an old-feeling movie.
That’s taking me “viral”, isn’t it?
Personal “Memory Pieces” (Summer of ‘42) aside, you cannot believably “write young” when
you’re old any more than you can believably “act tall” when you’re short. What then are your options? You don’t have any. You have no alternative but to write what you
are.
What does “old” write about, besides death, which you cannot
exclusively write about or people will shun your movies in larger numbers than
they already do?
Change of pace:
“Old” writes about regret.
You are happily married.
But once upon a time, there was another… and the two of you were so… it
seemed inevitable you would… but you didn’t.
That’s the “A” story in Café
Society.
There was this moment and it passed and life happened and
that’s it.
Thank you for coming and we’ll see you next year.
You are concerned the “Regret Theme” is not enough for an
entire movie? Throw in a murderous
gangster who shoots people in the head.
What’s that
supposed to be – “comic relief”? There
are movie I avoid less violent than Café Society. Two guys sitting in a truck, a man comes up
to the passenger side and blows the guy’s brains out before my shocked and
tormented eyes.
I’m thinking,
“Bring back the ‘Regret’!”
Of course, if it’s Woody Allen, there are always great jokes
to lift our spirits. The two most quoted
zingers from Café Society:
“Life is a comedy…
written by a sadistic comedy writer.”
(Not mentioning any names.)
And…
“The unexamined life
is not worth living. But the examined
one is no bargain.”
So much for “humorous interludes”. Unlike Sleeper,
there will be no “cloning a nose” (also from Sleeper) in this movie.
Oh yeah. Woody Allen also does the voiceover on Café Society, sounding like a groggy
octogenarian roused in the middle of the night and instructed to
“Read this.”
An eighty year-old writer-director made Café Society, focusing on issues relevant to himself, like regret,
which, either you don’t have any in
which case the movie has no emotional resonance for you, or you have some but you would prefer not to
think about them.
Either way, it is a tough film to recommend.
Unless you want to see Jessie Eisenberg playing Woody Allen.
As if Woody Allen had been cloned.
Which, quite possibly he was.
I think by and large the quality of Woody Allen's work took a nosedive around the time of the scandal, accelerating after the 1990s. I've seen a few of his output since then, and really liked none of them very much. I think SWEET AND LOWDOWN was the last one I actually thought worth the time, and that was mostly for the music. I didn't care at all for BLUE JASMINE, which some friends dragged me to see, unlike apparently most people who've seen it. Still, his diligent attention to making one movie a year is extraordinary, and I guess if you keep working long enough there may be some gems to find eventually.
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Blake Lively! I'll see it when it gets to Netflix. Story line isn't appealing to me but music in his films always pleases me. Of his recent ventures, Midnight in Paris was good. If I live to 80, and I can find a reason to get up, i'll be shocked.
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