On Woody Allen

Being a black Woody Allen fan is like being a white guy who loves Gang Starr to death. Woody has always represented a kind of New Yorker magazine sophistication that brothers and sisters aren’t presumed to have, and so familiarity with Annie Hall and Manhattan is like a status symbol branding yourself as a certain type of Negro. That said, Cassandra’s Dream (Woody’s 42nd film) just opened here in Paris two months before its American release date, and as a Woodyphile, I’m disappointed to report it’s wack.

If you’re a cineaste like me, maybe you notice the unstated formula of certain directors to alternate making films for their general mainstream audiences with other personal projects for themselves. Stevens Spielberg (Minority Report, Munich) and Soderbergh (Ocean’s 13, Bubble) come to mind. Followers of Woody’s movies will testify that he does this too, but the populist films (Sweet and Lowdown, Bullets Over Broadway) are always mad more engaging than those he seems to make to amuse himself (Scoop, Hollywood Ending). I go see them all, but my patience is gone for Woody’s vanity flicks. Cassandra’s Dream ain’t quite that, but it’s got no passion either, another problem for dude since at least the 90s.

Cassandra’s Dream could have been a play; Woody’s done theater over the years and his production Puzzle is running at the Théâtre du Palais Royal right now. Filmed in London, it’s another of his morality tales, like the illmatic Match Point or Crimes and Misdemeanors; two brothers (Ewan McGregor and Colin Farrell) snuff a business associate of their rich uncle and suffer the moral consequences. But scene after scene plods on perfunctorily, actors doing their best but ultimately following by-the-motions direction, and the ending is too much a pale shadow of the Shakespearian conflama it’s meant to evoke.

European investors have been ponying up for Woody’s film-a-year work ethic these past few; for 2008 he moves the locale to Spain with Vicky Cristina Barcelona starring Penélope Cruz and Scarlett Johannson. I hope it’s got soul. Speaking of which, above is a still of Chiwetel Ejiofor and Radha Mitchell from Melinda and Melinda, a not-bad joint from not too long ago which proves that, yes, there are sometimes black characters in Woody Allen movies (though you can count them all on one hand).