Loved it. Was much more engaging than the last several of Woody's that
I've seen. One constant in his work all the way back through the
comedies, with the possible exception of the standouts Annie Hall and
Manhattan, is that people are conceived of as types. In this, very
much like Match Point, there are the bifurcated yuppy success story
types squirrelled away in their wealth and smugness, and there are the
self destructive artist types. While this was such a send-up,
unapologetically milking the cliches for all they're worth, and played
with true panache, it worked great as a human comedy. But no one ever
really breaks out of the "type" mold, so while it was wonderfully
unpredictable for me, the second it was over you could see how it was
basically written backwards from the ending that had to follow from
all the natures of the characters so simplistically described. Again,
no problem here in comedy, but to me it's the tendency that prevents
Woody Allen from ever succeeding, as in totally succeeding, in drama,
meaning pushing it to new artistic heights rather than fulfilling
expectations. It's what doomed the promise of Little Children for me
too. It can never be Shakespeare, it can never be Tolstoy because
there is no spark of true individuality in the characters that makes
them outlive the story, transcend the world.
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