Everyone who knows who Woody Allen is seems to have an opinion regarding who Woody Allen is. There are those savagely hell-bent on condemning Allen to the #metoo depths of Hell and writing him off as a child molesting has-been cinema legend- and there are those of us who feel Allen is the victim of a media frenzy and a lot of depraved hogwash that endlessly orbits the twilight of his career/life. Allen has gone on record saying he should be a “poster child for the #metoo movement.” Anyone who knows his history with employing/working with some of the finest actresses (and technicians- always paid equal to men on his sets) in modern cinema history may be inclined to agree. His Hollywood track record with women is impeccable. But there is some hearsay that continues to haunt him.
Woody Allen did not molest his daughter (Dylan Farrow); if anyone is interested in doing the homework- they can find this out for themselves. If it ever came out that he did- I’d be the first to eat my words. But I firmly believe he did not. And, contrary to most writings in the last 10 plus years, Allen does not “deny” the “allegations” made against him by the Farrow clan- he was actually ABSOLVED of ANY charges years ago. He cooperated with authorities and no evidence of guilt was found. In these days of Orwellian news facades- one must be wary of how things are “presented.” Every piece of “news” is scripted in favor of sensationalistic bombast and quick, easy, thoughtless consumption. This rule-of-thumb does not favor a celebrity who has been accused of something hideous and unproven. Facts get swallowed by bits of hearsay and absurdity.
Now does Woody make a lot of movies that involve May/December romances?; why, yes- this happens to be a major plot point in some of his films. John Carpenter made many movies that explicitly deal with men who butcher young women (HALLOWEEN (1978), etc.). Hitchcock did the same. Martin Scorsese has made movies about some of the most spiritually challenged maniacs to ever pillage this flawed society (GOODFELLAS (1990)). Abel Ferrara’s work explores extremely flawed men struggling with their dangerous appetites and addictions. Even Steven Spielberg made a film about a criminal forger (CATCH ME IF YOU CAN (2002)). None of these directors have suffered the derision Allen has for mining specific themes. Oliver Stone has been picked on for his movies (accused of tampering with history- etc.- blah- blah- blah) on a semi-comparable level. But Stone has not been derailed with the ferocity and ignorance Allen has. What is it about Woody that makes people want to hang him without proof of guilt?
I have adored Allen’s cinema since I was 9 years old. Read his new autobiography, APROPOS OF NOTHING (2020), if you care to. It’s hilarious, insightful and worth it. He states his case in no uncertain terms (regarding Dylan Farrow) once again.
Many point to Allen’s 1979 comedy-drama-romance, MANHATTAN, for evidence of his unforgivable lechery. The movie deals with a group of helplessly literate Manhattanites at the tail end of the 70’s. One of them is Isaac Davis (Allen), a TV writer who quits his job and happens to be dating a 17 year-old with acting aspirations (Mariel Hemingway). During the course of the film’s perfect running time (96 lean minutes)- Isaac juggles his lesbian ex-wife (Meryl Streep) and the son he has with her, the nagging doubt about the validity and shelf-life of his own relationship with teenage Tracy (Hemingway), his blossoming interest in his best friend’s (Michael Murphy) mistress (Diane Keaton)- and his general existential malaise (typical Allen character).
Why is the movie so good? Why does it endure? Well- there’s the famous Gershwin opening (Rhapsody in Blue, fireworks, Allen’s voice-over describing why New York City is both decaying- and beautiful)- there’s the acting- the script (Allen)- the exquisite black/white photography (Gordon Willis)- the editing (Susan E. Morse)- the production design (Mel Bourne)- and that curious thing that grips at the center of all great movies- the thing you can’t quite put your finger on- the magic- that inscrutability that drives some classic films through decades.
MANHATTAN is very much about the inability of people to change. They may change fashions, lovers, cars, apartments, jobs- etc.- but they are unable to changes in their psyches. They cannot evolve beyond their bubbles. Allen’s character tries very hard to overcome his neurotic leanings (thus- the comic center of the film)- his professor friend (cheating on his wife with Keaton’s character) is less successful with his soul searching- and Keaton’s character is literally engulfed in her own intellectual trappings (Diane Keaton is, as is usually the case when she works with Allen, perfect in the role). But it’s Hemingway’s character, Tracy, that elevates the movie to a classic. Tracy is 17 and easily the most spiritually open, consistently evolving, emotionally mature person in the film. We fall in love with her. We root for her. We know she’s the sun shining in all this rain. The other characters just revolve around her. Mariel Hemingway (16 at the time of filming) was nominated for an Academy Award for best supporting actress. She should have won (Meryl Streep won for KRAMER VS. KRAMER). Tracy anchors the film just a few scenes. Who can forget her crying when Isaac tells her the relationship is no longer working? Hemingway says more with her facial shrugs and eye-rolls (underlining the immaturity of Allen’s infinite jests) than any other character in the film. It’s Tracy that delivers the most important and final lesson of the film to Allen’s character (and the audience). MANHATTAN boasts one of the finest movie endings of all time. Watching the last sequence of the film feels like an out-of-body experience. It’s airy, insightful, hopeful, romantic and designed with the best of intentions. It does what all good art should do- it elates you. No matter how many times I see the movie (maybe 15 times?)- it never fails to make me feel like everything in the world will be copacetic; the confused people, the rotting cities, the past, the present, and the future. I’d even argue Allen makes a case for youth (females) being the only recourse civilization has for vitality, growth and change (Tracy is immovable in her future plans and seems filled with purpose). In an age where everyone is quick to judge- quick to bite- impulsive- and confused by cultural shifts and rifts- MANHATTAN washes over you like a handbook illuminating the euphoria of societal possibility. If we could only make it past our wicked apprehensions, hair-trigger assessments- and a perplexing, reflexive distaste for happiness and legitimate emotional buoyancy. MANHATTAN is a lovable, technically dazzling film that illuminates the value of romancing ourselves- our habitats- and everyone in our immediate vicinity. It is quite simply one of the most romantic movies ever made.