The Oncoming Hope

"To Room With Love" is not one movie, but four. Three are perfect, and the last remains perfectly entertaining, if less moving. What surprised me most is the youth of the cast (which stood in stark contrast to the devoted Woody Allen fans in the audience, who waved goodbye to geriatric at least a decade before).

I don't normally do this, but for the sake of coherence, I'll review each storyline separately.

THE BEST ONE:

Woody Allen deserves a prize for creating a movie about the lives of 20-somethings that's not only hysterical, but relatable. I'm not sure exactly why, but the immediate post-college years seem to inspire only the worst type of film: navel-gazing affairs that treat ambition like sickness, or movies about people losing track of everything only to "find themselves" at the end.

Those films (usually terrible romantic comedies) ignore a simple fact: 20 somethings are actually adults, not oversized children let loose on an unsuspecting world. You offer to cook dinner for your friends, because it feels like the adult thing to do, even when the only things you know how to make are brownies, and sometimes not even that. But you know what? We have a hell of a lot of fun trying.

Pretending to be adult also involves being a little pretentious (part of youth is failing to understand that constantly showing off your knowledge doesn't actually prove your intelligence). Allen finds a brilliant conceit to allow us to both fall in love with these unctious people and mock them from afar.

Ellen Page probably has the most difficult role, playing the flutterby with the most superficial personality (Allen clearly chose her for her incredible Diane Keaton impression). But we also have to fall in love with her. And we do.

I won't say anything to spoil the central conceit of this segment, but let's just say that cell phones are important. And like me, you may wonder why all the women are wearing button down shirts (it's a hint!) Also, Jesse Eisenberg, if you're reading this, marry me.

EQUALLY GOOD BUT MINUS EISENBERG:

The second story sets up a perfect counterpoint to the first. Two newlyweds from a small village have just moved to Rome and they're as young as the previous group, and even less experienced. They're not playing at adulthood, they have to grow up.

The casting director's found a real star in Alessandra Mastronardi, who finds herself lost within her first 5 minutes in Rome. Blah blah, magic city cakes, she breaks down by a film shooting featuring her most beloved Italian movie star. Her hijinks take twists and turns that are both hilarious and awesome (and make my shriveled feminist heart scream out in glee).

Meanwhile, poor Antonio finds himself accidentally embroiled with a prostitute (played by Penelope Cruz, who steals every scene she's in. Seriously Hollywood, stop casting her in shitty movies. Or maybe do, so she can keep being awesome in foreign films).

The ending of their story works for me, but I'm sure that it won't for some. I look forward to debating it with you in the comments.

THE FUNNIEST SEGMENT

It should come as no surprise that the funniest (and in many ways the objectively strongest) segment is the one starring the Woodster himself. I can't even think of a way to write about it without spoiling its increasingly hilarious turns, but lets just say that we wade knee deep into absurdist comedy (and half of the audience fell out of their seats at the climax of this segment).

Also notable: Alison Pill follows up her impressive turn in Midnight in Paris with even more charm.

THE UGLY ONE

The final segment, featuring Roberto Benigni, deserves neither an image nor a lengthy review. I won't say it was boring the first time around, but in future viewings, I shall dub these scenes "BATHROOM BREAK".

OVERALL

It's nice to know that after all these years Woody Allen still has the desire to experiment with forms in filmmaking. Through To Rome In Love, he plays with time and space in ways that are totally unique. It's often said that his film locations are characters in and of themselves, but I'm pretty glad that's not true here.

In fact, there's an astonishing lack of what I'd describe as Woody Allen "tropes", like scenes in museums. The tone is bittersweet, which he's never quite done before. These are human stories, and Rome merely provides a platform to launch these stories, which are as much about Italians as they are about the Americans who get lost in their country.

Where Midnight in Paris succeeded as a total wish fulfilment fantasy (you may recall that I dubbed it Paris Porn), To Rome With Love works better as a cohesive film.

If you don't want to be spoiled as to the concept of the film, read this later. But if you've seen the trailer, you know what I'm talking about.

Screenwriting hack Gil Pender (Owen Wilson) visits Paris with his disgustingly close-minded fiancé Inez (Rachel McAdams) and her equally awful parents. He escapes from them by wandering through the streets of Paris, seeking inspiration for his unwritten novel. But, as these things go in the movies (which I dearly wish would happen in real life), a magical yellow car appears at midnight, transporting him back to the 1920's.

Midnight in Paris has been billed as a return to form for Woody Allen to his classic 70's style. Many of the elements are there, including the jazzy incidentals, langurous architectural long-shots, and scenes of people walking and talking (pretentiously).

I've been in the throes of my Woody Allen marathon, and am up to 1980. Basically, I'm still in the classics, and Midnight in Paris just isn't on their level, especially not in the contemporary scenes. Thankfully, most of the callbacks are to Manhattan, which I don't revere quite as much as many others do.

As with Manhattan, Paris opens with impossibly stylized shots of its featured city, accompanied by narration from the lead character (it's worth pointing out that Owen Wilson, as Gil Pender, does a great Woody Allen impersonation in this movie, but I still wish the Woodster could have time travelled back and cast his younger self).

Like many Woody Allen films (probably all of them), character is revealed through scenes of art appreciation. The Woody Allen character always believes that art is to be enjoyed, not criticized or judged. Art is a wonderful, inexpensive time-pass, and characters are defined whether a) they share that perspective with Allen's character and b) how Allen's character then responds to whatever pretension he then encounters.

So let's look at the scene at Versailles, where Rachel McAdams's Inez is held in thrall to Michael Sheen's incredibly fatuous Professor, and Gil merely hangs slightly back. We are left on our own to observe Paul and Inez being completely revolting, where normally the Allen character would throw in a sharp barb (or gag) that would defuse our disgust.

Superlative barbs in Annie Hall (there's a great take on this scene you ought to read):

Superlative gag in Play it Again, Sam:

He doesn't do either in Manhattan, to be fair, but the genius of Manhattan is that he knows that Diane Keaton's awful in practically every way, but he loves her anyway. That tension drives the movie forward.

Instead, Paris lets its non-Gil characters be utterly despicable without offering us any commentary beyond "look at these people being truly awful, so awful that they have the audacity to correct the tour guide." These scenes are practically intolerable and really drag down the movie.

End result, we can't wait to get out of there and into the 1920's.

THE PAST ISN'T EVEN PAST

Gil's magical yellow car doesn't arrive a moment too soon, sending us back to meet a whole other set of awful people, but people I love very dearly, just as dearly as Gil.

The success of these scenes depended on how well the actors were willing to get into their roles. The Fitzgeralds were fantastic, and my greatest disappointment with this film is that there weren't more scenes with them. Kathy Bates did surprisingly great work as Gertrude Stein, who gives Gil the essential counsel he so desperately needs.

An unexpected joy was the café encounter with Salvador Dali. I think Adrien Brody, in his brief showcase, practically steals the film. His joyous portrayal of Dali bounces perfectly off of incredulous Gil and Dali's two companions. The companions, of course, are Luis Buñuel and Man Ray.

Less successful was how there was wayyyy too much Hemingway, which wasn't helped by the hammy performance. The actor couldn't seem to decide between playing him straight and playing him as Ron Swanson. Particularly grating was his "is anyone up for a fight?" at the Fitzgerald party. The film hammers every Hemingway cliché into the ground, but at least Gil responds with equanimity.

***SERIOUS SPOILER ALERT***

You will notice that I haven't mentioned Marion Cotillard's Adrianna. For what is there there to say of fair Marion? No man could fail to fall in love with her, and the film does not pretend otherwise. Woody Allen, as always, takes the horrible Manic Pixie Dream Girl cliché and turns it on its head. Her desires are key to the story, and its her confidence in her desires that leads him to an epiphany. Much like Dick and Nicole Diver in Tender is the Night, she is the strong character and he is weak. Only when he sees her that way can he change his life.

This epiphany hits him from three directions: Gertrude Stein finds his characters unbelievable, Hemingway finds them naive, and Cotillard, the living embodiment of a more perfect novel than Gil's, proves them to be flat. And how does she do this? They time travel back to her golden age, the Belle Epoque. Just as Gil idolizes Fitzgerald, she idolizes Degas and Renoir. But she wants to be in that time period because she actually wants to live there. It's not just nostalgia for her, it's opportunity.

For Gil, the 20s is a mere escape, and he comes to recognize that he will tire of it the same way he's tired of his present. His desires haven't fundamentally changed in his 20's experience, nor have the character traits that make him Gil.

CONCLUSION

It's not a perfect film by any means; there's too much disconnect between the fun in the past and the dreariness in the present.

But Midnight in Paris, despite its many flaws, has one distinct element working in its favor: pure, unabashed joy. Joy, in a Woody Allen movie. Would you believe it? This element lifts the film above the sum of its parts and makes it something special. You can say many things about Woody Allen movies, but I don't think you could ever have said, until now, that one of his movies just makes you want to get up and dance.

Allen's love for the Lost Generation comes across perfectly, and his understanding of the characters at play is impeccable. His clear distaste for Hemingway may borrow some, but it didn't bother me (I sit firmly in the Fitzgerald camp of that particular war).

But the lesson of the movie is one that bears repeating: you can long for the past all that you want, but once you remove the soft-focus lens, it looks a hell of a lot like the present.

Since announcing my Woody Allen Blogathon, I have watched the first 8 films, and I haven't had a moment to write about them. I shouldn't have watched so many, because the exemplary quality of the other 7 really interfered with my revisit of What's New Pussycat, which has to be one of the worst films I've ever seen. I take consolation that in this case it's not Allen's fault, as it will be in many films to come.

SCRIPT #1

What's New Pussycat is a total mess that somehow became a box office hit. Originally starring Warren Beatty, the title refers to how Beatty used to answer the phone. Woody Allen was called in to punch up the script. His jokes were such a hit that the producers asked him to rewrite the entire script.

SCRIPT #2

As it turns out, in the rewrite, Allen gave most of the best jokes to himself, and Warren Beatty quit in a fit of pique, to be replaced by Peter O'Toole. According to sources who have seen this script, it has well-defined roles for the women in the film and a much neater parallel between Woody Allen's nebbish character who can't get a date and O'Toole's manwhore. I would love to see this script (and this film). But sadly it was not to be.

SCRIPT #3

Peter Sellers agreed to play the small role of the psychiatrist as a way to ease back into acting after a heart attack. The star power of Peter Sellers was not in doubt, as this film sits in between Dr. Strangelove and Casino Royale. Sellers, naturally, demanded that all the best jokes be given to his character, and also demanded a bigger role. And then he started improvising on set. Tensions ran high, until producers reduced Allen's role and made Sellers the star of the film.

Then, as these things go, the producer forced them to cast his supermodel girlfriend in a minor role, then demanded that they enlarge her role. As you can imagine, this pissed off all the other women in the film, especially established stars like Ursula Andress.

WHAT'S LEFT

Basically, man-about-town Peter O'Toole consults Sellers' deranged psychiatrist to help cure him of his sex addiction. Instead. Dr. Fassbender merely serves as a sidekick on O'Toole's strip club visits and 60s twisting. This movie made me long for Austin Powers. That's never a good sign. At least Austin Powers is occasionally funny.

Only one good thing came out of this project. Okay, two.

The first is the theme song, "What's New Pussycat," which was a number one hit for Burt Bacharach and Tom Jones, and is way classier than this movie deserves.

The second is that What's New Pussycat was a big enough hit that Woody Allen could demand total control of his films henceforth.

Have you seen this movie? Am I being too harsh? If you haven't seen it, here's the trailer, which perfectly encapsulates the manic silliness of the movie.

Yes folks, the things I do for you. I am going to watch every Woody Allen film, in chronological order.

This may sound like an exercise in masochism, but I assure you this isn't so.

Until last year, the only movies I'd seen by Allen were Match Point, Scoop, Bananas and Company Man. None are considered his finest, though I enjoyed them all. But then I saw Annie Hall. And I really liked it. I didn't realize how much I liked it until I saw it again. And again. And again.

The first time I saw Annie Hall was right about the time I got seriously into movies again. (I actually wrote one of my first film reviews for this site on Annie Hall). And when you read serious film criticism, they cite a ton of Woody Allen's films. So then I watched Manhattan, which seems to be everyone's favorite. Not mine, but it was still great. Then I saw Sleeper, which has to be one of the funniest movies ever made.

Play It Again, Sam? Pure genius. And my favorite so far.

But the final straw was watching an old episode of Siskel and Ebert where they debated who was funnier: Mel Brooks or Woody Allen? At that point, I realized I'd seen almost every movie Mel Brooks ever made.

So now it's Woody Allen's turn.

I won't lie, I'm not looking forward to the early 80's. Or the late 80's. Or the early 90's. But it's gotta be done. And based on reviews, it seems that for every misstep there are two classics.

So join me on this journey through Allen's oeuvre.