Directed by Woody Allen

In 2023, Claire Dederer released the book “Monsters: A Fan’s Dilemma”, an exploration of whether we, as viewers and readers and listeners, can ever separate art from artist. Unfortunately, that self-indulgent, boring dud of a book concludes its argument with a big fat “It’s up to you” (that tome is not worth your time), so the question remains — increasingly relevant in the post-P. Diddy/R. Kelly/Michael Jackson era.

Woody Allen ranks high on the “are we allowed to watch this guy?” spectrum, right under Roman Polanski & Harvey Weinstein himself. Allen has been considered *a little creepy* for decades and (especially since 1992… and 1997… and 2014…) his public perception is questionable at best.

But decades before all the controversy began, Allen released what remains his most popular film, Annie Hall, a satirical dramedy starring Diane Keaton as the titular Annie and himself as her on-again/off-again lover. It took Keaton years, maybe even decades, to escape the character trap this movie put her in, but it’s for good reason. She is at an effortless, fast-talking, sweet-natured peak.

There is comedy (“I was thrown out of college for cheating on the metaphysics exam; I looked into the soul of the boy sitting next to me”), and there is romance. But while the “romcom/exploration of relationships” element provides narrative structure, the thrill comes from the film’s design: Never knowing when Alvy might break the wall and talk to us directly; figuring out where in the timeline we’ve landed at the start of every new scene; receiving themes in remarkable ways (a split screen showcasing opposing family dynamics, a flashback sequence to a childhood memory); a minutes-long break from reality while Alvy confers with Sleeping Beauty’s cartoon witch.

The narrative pacing is fast, but the shots themselves are executed slowly. In the early 2000s, Roger Ebert re-reviewed Annie Hall and quoted critic David Bordwell.

Because “Annie Hall” moves so quickly, is so fresh and alive, we may not notice how long some of Allen’s takes are. The critic David Bordwell has an illuminating article in the Spring 2002 issue of Film Quarterly that points out that Allen’s average shot length (ASL) ranges high: 22 seconds for “Manhattan” and 35.5 seconds for “Mighty Aphrodite.” Bordwell tells me “Annie Hall” has an ASL of 14.5 seconds (he says other 1977 films he clocked had an ASL of from 4 to 7 seconds). By comparison, the recent film “Armageddon” has an ASL of 2.3 seconds.

Alvy Singer and Annie Hall became prototypes for decades of movie leads to come. The film’s topics range from classic to niche, and Allen respects his audience’s intelligence in a way that was rare for the time and even rarer today (just watch the Fellini / McLuhan debate scene):

For the most part, this movie feels timeless. Not every joke or line still works, but on the whole it lands today the way it likely would have landed with audiences in 1977. There’s a reason this movie is still in the cultural zeitgeist 50 years later.

It’s the story of troubled relationships, a time capsule of New York City, the visualization of a conversation. This movie might not be for everyone, and that’s okay. It beat Star Wars: A New Hope for Best Picture at the 50th Academy Awards, and that’s legacy enough.

This movie is good.

My rating: 4.5/5