Amazon.com Essentials:
Annie Hall is one of the truest, most bittersweet
romances on film. In it, Allen plays a thinly disguised version of
himself: Alvy Singer, a successful--if neurotic--television comedian
living in Manhattan. Annie (the wholesomely luminous Dianne Keaton) is
a Midwestern transplant who dabbles in photography and sings in small
clubs. When the two meet, the sparks are immediate--if repressed.
Alone in her apartment for the first time, Alvy and Annie navigate a
minefield of self-conscious
"is-this-person-someone-I'd-want-to-get-involved-with?" conversation. As they speak,
subtitles flash their unspoken thoughts: the likes of "I'm not smart
enough for him" and "I sound like a jerk." Despite all their caution,
they connect, and we're swept up in the flush of their new
romance. Allen's antic sensibility shines here in a series of
flashbacks to Alvy's childhood, growing up, quite literally, under a
rumbling roller coaster. His boisterous Jewish family's dinner table
shares a split screen with the WASP-y Hall's tight-lipped holiday
table, one Alvy has joined for the first time. His position as
outsider is uncontestable he looks down the table and sizes up Annie's
"Grammy Hall" as "a classic Jew-hater."
The relationship arcs, as does Annie's growing desire for
independence. It quickly becomes clear that the two are on separate
tracks, as what was once endearing becomes annoying. Annie Hall
embraces Allen's central themes--his love affair with New York (and
hatred of Los Angeles), how impossible relationships are, and his fear
of death. But their balance is just right, the chemistry between
Allen's worry-wart Alvy and Keaton's gangly, loopy Annie is one of
the screen's best pairings. It couldn't be more engaging. --Susan
Benson
Amazon.com video review:
Starting with 1971's Bananas, Woody Allen's second film as
director,
this set of eight movies includes all of Allen's work as a director up to
1980, when he wrestled with his own popularity in the Fellini-esque
Stardust Memories, showcasing the distinctive arc of a filmmaker who
moved from lighthearted movies to more serious fare that still remains
breathtaking after 20 years. In between those two movies, there are
wonderful trips of comedy, tragedy and romance to be had. Everything You
Always Wanted to Know About Sex but Were Afraid to Ask is a hilarious
set of vignettes based on the popular instructional manual, the most
notable a segment featuring Gene Wilder's infatuation with a female sheep.
The futuristic Sleeper and the underrated Love and Death
showcase Allen at his funniest, especially the latter, which tackles the
weighty subjects of Russian novels and Bergman films with adroit parody.
Allen's Oscar-winning Annie Hall is one of the most joyous (and
melancholy) romances ever made, with a star-making turn by Diane Keaton and
a witty screenplay (cowritten with Marshall Brickman) that remains one of
Allen's best. Allen did a 180 with the Bergman-esque Interiors, a
sometimes stilted drama that nonetheless presaged the dysfunctional-family
drama of films like Ordinary People and featured outstanding
performances by Geraldine Page and Mary Beth Hurt, as well as unparalleled
cinematography by Gordon Willis. The last two films in the set--the
romantic Manhattan and the acidic Stardust Memories--are
both gorgeously shot in black and white and represent Allen at the peak of
his creative powers, as he wrestles with the meaning of life in terms of
both love and art, albeit from different perspectives. Indispensable to any
film fan, this boxed set represents nothing less than a landmark of
American cinema. --Mark Englehart
