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Reviews of Classic and Current Movies






In the present, the elderly Ann (Vanessa Redgrave) is near death, spending her last hours at home in bed being cared for by daughters Nina (Toni Collette) and Connie (Natasha Richardson). Nina is surprised when a semi-hallucinatory Ann recalls a man called Harris as her first love. Flashbacks reveal a seminal weekend from 50 years ago.
In the 1950's, Ann (Claire Danes) travels to a swanky Newport mansion to attend the wedding of her best friend Lila (Mamie Gummer). Ann reconnects with Lila's brother Buddy (Hugh Dancy), a frequently drunk aspiring writer who has harboured a crush on Ann since they were in college. Buddy introduces Ann to his friend Harris (Patrick Wilson), a handsome doctor. She is immediately smitten, but her romantic pursuit is complicated when she learns both Buddy and Lila may also be in love with Harris.
An adaptation of the book by Susan Minot, Evening is pretty as a postcard and just as disposable. Minot wrote the script with Michael Cunningham, and what may have worked on the page as thematic permission to seek self-kindness is cruelly exposed on the screen. Director Lajos Koltai exploits Ann's transitioning mental state to wedge trite mystical moments (stars, butterflies, a night nurse dressed in an angelic gown) into a stultifyingly inert narrative.Despite the presence of an all-star cast of women (Glenn Close and Meryl Streep also have small roles), the characters are consumed by ruinous judgment, overheated dialogue, and lethargic pacing circling the same miserable laments for two hours. The most incurable problems ironically stem from the men. Buddy is allowed to wreck multiple scenes as the obnoxious drunk heartbroken young man, and his exit, while meant to be tragic, is cheerworthy. Worse still is Harris, the doctor supposedly igniting everyone's passion reduced to a stone-faced non-presence with the personality of a brick wall.
Meanwhile back in the present, Nina (the free spirit) and Connie (the responsible homemaker) bicker according to the rules of stereotypical cinematic sisters, with an unexpected pregnancy thrown in to satisfy the circle of life. Vanessa Redgrave spends the entire movie in bed babbling about one weekend in her life and trying to separate reality from fantasy. Her fever dreams were undoubtedly more entertaining than this Evening.
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In the present day, siblings Carolyn and Michael Johnson convene at the Iowa home of their recently deceased mother Francesca (Meryl Streep). They are surprised at her wish to be cremated with the ashes dispersed from a local bridge. Carolyn and Michael then uncover a set of Francesca's journals containing the details of a secret four-day affair she had in the 1960s.
In a flashback to 1965, National Geographic photographer Robert Kincaid (Clint Eastwood) is traveling through the area on assignment to photograph local bridges. With her husband Richard away at the state fair with the two kids, Francesca helps Kincaid with directions. During the drive then over dinner, they get acquainted. She is originally from Italy, now quietly unfulfilled as an underappreciated mother, housekeeper, and faithful wife in rural Iowa. He is a free-spirited, divorced, and happily unattached world traveler. They develop a deep bond that evolves into a passionate romance.
An adaptation of the 1992 best-selling novel by Robert James Waller, The Bridges Of Madison County fully invests in a love powerful enough to upend lives and launch long-dormant dreams. Eastwood also directs, and the Richard LaGravenese script is dedicated to the singular objective of demonstrating how passion can unexpectedly spark when least expected.Most of the film consists of Francesca and Robert conversing, the relationship evolving from an awkward introduction to a complete and mutual surrender to the force ignited between them. The 134 minutes smolder with building fervour, but the languid pacing threatens to overwhelm the available material. The central love story is only briefly interrupted by interspersed scenes of Carolyn and Michael coming to terms with who their mother really was.
Eastwood the actor is predictably miscast as a romantic lead, and never appears comfortable as a man-of-the-world discovering true love for the first time. Fortunately, the drama is made tolerable by Streep's superlative acting. She overcomes a dubious accent to convey awakening emotions of delight, excitement, and craving for a man who nourishes her soul, and who may whisk her away from the corn fields.
The third act maturely tackles the theme of life's one grand love colliding with here-and-now pragmatism. Answers and resolutions only emerge through pain and trade-offs, The Bridges Of Madison County silent - but also slightly bored - witnesses to secrets of pleasure and sacrifice.
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In a rural Massachusetts community, pediatrician Dr. Carolyn Ryan (Meryl Streep) is married to industrial sculptor Ben (Liam Neeson). Their life is shattered when their son Jacob (Edward Furlong) becomes the prime suspect in the murder of local teenager Martha Taverner. Jacob, who is now missing, was the last person seen with the victim.
Carolyn is convinced it's all a misunderstanding. But Ben finds and destroys apparent evidence of foul play he finds in the trunk of Jacob's car. When the young man is apprehended, Carolyn and Ben hire lawyer Panos Demeris (Alfred Molina) to mount a defence. Not satisfied with evidence tampering, Ben fabricates a fake narrative to try and secure a not guilty verdict for his son.
An adaptation of a Rosellen Brown book, Before And After features a decent small-town mood, and the occasional spark in conveying a family in turmoil. As the narrator pondering the life-changing impact of a sudden crisis, daughter Judith (Julia Weldon) adds a peripheral but important observer's presence.
But otherwise, this drama barely rises above routine television fare, the Ted Tally script several drafts away from cinematic quality and never settling on a compelling theme. Stooping to the level of an asinine story, director Barbet Schroeder fails to leverage the talent at his disposal. Meryl Streep is caught in material well beneath her standards and delivers a disengaged, almost comatose performance. Liam Neeson oscillates between concerned father and outright boor working hard to make a bad situation worse.Schroeder builds up to legal showdowns but never enters the courtroom, engaging instead in pre and post theatrics. Other structural problems arrive early then multiply. Ben never pauses to think whether the evidence in his son's trunk may vindicate rather incriminate, while prime suspect Jacob remains silent when it suits the script, then suddenly decides to spill the beans. Still thinking he is the smartest person in the community when plenty of clues suggest otherwise, Ben concots a web of lies that would never survive rudimentary examination. By this bewildering point, father, mother, son, and lawyer carry divergent agendas and different versions of the same events into the legal proceedings.
The one consistent thread is a dad's complex and misplaced devotion expressed through ill-advised acts and short-tempered confrontations. Guilty or not, with Ben as a father Jacob is already doomed.
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Alice Hughes (Meryl Streep) is a New York-based prize-winner author. Afraid of flying but invited to receive a prestigious award in London, she decides to cross the Atlantic on the Queen Mary 2. Alice invites her nephew Tyler (Lucas Hedges) to join the trip, along with her two best friends from college days: Susan (Dianne Wiest) now advocates for prisoners' rights, while Roberta (Candice Bergen) is divorced, has a lowly retail job, and is seeking a rich husband. Alice's new agent Karen (Gemma Chan) also makes the trip, desperate to uncover information about her secretive client's latest manuscript.
During the crossing Tyler and Karen start hanging out, while decades of tension surface between Alice and Roberta, who believes she was the subject of her friend's most celebrated book. Susan tries to play peacemaker, Roberta is on the prowl for a rich man, Alice privately works on her new book, and the whole group is intrigued when they spot world-famous crime novel author Kelvin Kranz (Daniel Algrant) among the passengers.
A streamlined production directed by Steven Soderbergh and (loosely) written by Deborah Eisenberg, Let Them All Talk is an honest title. With plenty of improvisation spicing up awkward connections, this is a series of short and bright conversations between interesting characters as a luxury liner powers across the ocean. The spectacular cast is afforded almost free reign to steer scenes, and they deliver natural interactions with enough discipline to maintain coherence, landing short of profound but well above frivolous.The number of passengers on this particular sailing is suspiciously low (the background is often empty), but the setup is an otherwise snug trip filled with the threat of revelations. Soderbergh served as his own cinematographer and editor, and keeps the scenes sharp. Conversations end without a moment of fat, building a convincing sense of eavesdropping on mid-life luggage with more to the story than these characters will ever be comfortable sharing. The budding but awkward romance between Tyler and Karen mixes well with Alice's haughtiness and layers of passive-aggressiveness harboured by Roberta, but the side-quest involving crime author Kranz is an only partially successful catalyst.
Through the simple premise the film perhaps over-reaches for some lofty themes. Alice is enamored with an obscure Welsh writer, and expresses her admiration with lyrical discourse about the ties that bind across time and generations. Her exploration of the human condition is worthwhile, but also sets her well apart and underlines the disconnect with her friends.
The final act finds bittersweet twists, as Let Them All Talk happily charts a choppy course, the untidy resolutions mimicking life's unscripted surprises.
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Lawyers Mossack (Gary Oldman) and Fonseca (Antonio Baderas) speak directly to the camera. They explain how their Panama-based law firm helps wealthy clients avoid taxes through layers of shell companies registered in tax haven countries, and run by pay-per-signature Caribbean-based "directors".
Three stories explore the industry's different angles. In New York, Ellen Martin (Meryl Streep) loses her husband in a tour boat accident that claims 21 lives. The owners of the tour boat company discover that their cheaply-purchased insurance coverage is fraudulent. Ellen learns the fraudsters are hiding beneath shell companies and impossible to track. Meanwhile, a Las Vegas condominium Ellen was hoping to purchase is snapped up by shady Russians paying in cash.
African billionaire Charles is cheating on his wife, and his daughter Simone catches him in the act. He tries to placate her by gifting her control of a shell company worth millions. But a surprise awaits both Simone and her mom.
British businessman Maywood (Matthias Schoenaerts) is in China, trying to blackmail corrupt businesswoman Gu Kailai (Rosalind Chao) into creating another shell company for his benefit. They are both in danger as China clamps down on corruption.Inspired by real events and the Panama Papers revelations, enough spot-the-star talent features in The Laundromat to avoid a total loss. Director Steven Soderbergh can attract a quality cast, and minor roles are populated by notables like James Cromwell, Sharon Stone, Robert Patrick, Jeffrey Wright, and David Schwimmer.
But otherwise this is a half-hearted and never convincing effort to cinematically expose the lawyers, bankers, shell companies, and shady characters helping the rich avoid taxes. While 2015's The Big Short aced the combination of explaining and exposing the mortgage crisis complexities from multiple perspectives, here writer Scott Z. Burns simply flounders with dead-ended narrative fragments.
The start is strong enough, and the boating tragedy and subsequent non-insurance debacle shows promise. But even this plot meanders into a tangential real estate sub-story before being summarily abandoned in favour of the tired soap-opera featuring Charles' family. The third story in China drops in without context or purpose.
Soderbergh loses further focus by steering towards poorly explained links between tax shelters and the need for campaign finance reform, a topic unrelated to any of the vignettes. As the narrative thrust fizzles, The Laundromat concludes with embarrassing straight-to-the-audience preachiness, landing with a hollow clank.
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In the seaside English village of Lyme, American actress Anna (Meryl Streep) and English actor Mike (Jeremy Irons) have the leading roles in a movie production filming a Victorian love story. Anna and Mike start an affair, which mirrors the film's events.
In the Victorian narrative, Miss Sarah Woodruff (Streep) is a fallen woman, with a sullied reputation of having slept with a french lieutenant who promptly abandoned her. Charles Henry Smithson (Irons) is a palaeontologist looking for fossils in the area. He proposes marriage to Ernestina Freeman (Lynsey Baxter), the daughter of a wealthy industrialist.
But once Charles sets eyes on Sarah, he is immediately smitten. They start seeing each other in secret, with Charles determined to uncover her story. Sarah secures employment as secretary to the crusty Mrs. Poulteney (Patience Collier), while Charles starts to doubt his commitment to Ernestina. He seeks the counsel of Dr. Grogan (Leo McKern) to better understand Sarah's melancholic state.
An adaptation of the John Fowles book with a script by Harold Painter, The French Lieutenant's Woman is successful at coherently capturing two separate but related tales of illicit passion. Director Karel Reisz deftly weaves Anna and Mike's modern-day affair through the more dominant Victorian-set story, and within 127 minutes both are rounded into viable dramas.
Despite the high quality production values, the pacing is slow and creeps into ponderous, even with twin stories competing for screen time. Several scenes in the Victorian story line add little to the narrative and could have been trimmed. But while the clocks tick slowly, the visual beauty is opulent. The cinematography by Freddie Francis is lush and lively, with plenty of outdoor filming animating a rustic rural England with rich greenery, vibrant town streets, and a wind-swept sea-side.Although both couples grapple with the intensity of uncontrolled lust, unfortunately none of the four central characters emerge with credit, undermining the level of possible engagement. Sarah discloses little that can be trusted, and she emerges as primarily manipulative and happy to snare with victimhood. Charles is a prototypical weak male chasing after the image of distant beauty, willfully and woefully undermining all his future prospects. Anna and Mike fare worse, both of them shallow and looking for the on-set thrill with no rational plan for the post-filming future.
While the characters are sometime infuriating and always less than empathetic, the performances are stellar. Meryl Streep excels in both roles, hiding thoughtful connivance behind tentative fragility as Sarah, and modernizing similar talents as Anna. Jeremy Irons is a perfect foil, love-struck and gullible in both eras.
The French Lieutenant's Woman exposes human frailties when love shrouds reason.The theme lacks inspiration, but is still presented with artistry.
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The setting is 1964 in the Bronx. At a Catholic church also serving as a school for the community, the stern and old-fashioned principal Sister Aloysius Beauvier (Meryl Streep) keeps a close watch on the children's behaviour. She also notices when Father Brendan Flynn (Philip Seymour Hoffman) delivers a sermon about doubt, and airs her thoughts to the younger Sister James (Amy Adams), the school's eighth grade history teacher.
Sister James then observes Flynn interacting, perhaps inappropriately but she is not quite sure, with the school's only black child, altar boy Donald Miller. She confides in Sister Beauvier, who decides to confront Flynn and accuse him of improper behaviour. He denies any wrongdoing. Sister Beauvier continues to investigate, and reaches out to the boy's mother Mrs. Miller (Viola Davis) to better understand his home environment.
Directed and written by John Patrick Shanley based on his play, Doubt is a series of verbal clashes all taking place in and around the Catholic school. Barely rising above the status of a filmed play, Doubt leans heavily on the Seriousness of the Topic and the star actors to salvage some level of cinematic drama.
Streep, Hoffman, Adams, and Davis (who gets just the one scene) step forward and offer their theatrical best, but it's not enough. Shanley endlessly circles the same drain of Beauvier having her doubts about Flynn's behaviour but not quite the evidence she needs, and so they spar, then spar again, and then spar some more, repeating the same couched accusations and the same offended denials. Her rage and his defensiveness both escalate, but the power dynamics are wayward and the words fail to spark.Sister James and Mrs. Miller are relegated to side-characters and observers, their attitudes perhaps indicative of the era but still far from helpful. Sister James naively bends with the wind, and Mrs. Miller hints her son should tough it out and accept mistreatment as long as he graduates.
The running time is padded with irrelevant details from Sister James' classroom, featuring boys and girls trying to be boys and girls but stifled by rigid codes of conduct enforced with relish by Sister Beauvier.
Almost as a late afterthought Doubt works its way to the rot eating away at a Catholic church allowing serial offenders to thrive, and the futility of women speaking out against a centuries-old male-dominated hierarchy. The topic is of tragic importance, here fumbled into cold, static discourse.
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Two years after the end of World War Two, aspiring writer Stingo (Peter MacNicol) moves from the South to an apartment in Brooklyn. He meets his lively and loud upstairs neighbours, Polish immigrant Sophie Zawistowski (Streep) and her lover Nathan Landau (Kevin Kline), a Jewish biologist. The couple's relationship is tumultuous due to Nathan's wild mood swings and descents into fits of unwarranted jealousy.
Although she comes from a Catholic family, Sophie is a survivor of the Auschwitz Nazi concentration camp. After the war, Nathan and his brother, a doctor, helped her recover from malnutrition. As Stingo makes progress on his book, he develops a deep friendship bordering on love with both Sophie and Nathan. Gradually Sophie reveals her family's harrowing wartime experiences, while Stingo also discovers Nathan's secrets.
An adaptation of the book by William Styron directed by Alan J. Pakula, Sophie's Choice combines a troubled companionship triangle with heartrending flashbacks to wartime in Poland. The overarching theme addresses the far-reaching impacts of emotional and mental damage whether acknowledged or denied, the search for recovery and happiness buffeted by overwhelming dark forces.
The weighty subject matter does deserve considerate treatment, but the film clocks in at an inexcusable 151 minutes, and spends far too much time on the Brooklyn scenes. The pacing often slows to a crawl, Pakula conflating sombre moods with the need to overindulge.Fortunately the director is rescued by his leading actress. Meryl Streep delivers one of the most affecting performances in cinema's history, combining a Polish accent for the Brooklyn scenes with speaking in German for the flashbacks. But more critically, she conveys complex fragility and uses the faintest of expressions to hint at painful scars, omissions, and the lies Sophie has told herself just to survive. Whenever Streep is on the screen nothing else matters, her presence eradicating the plodding plot.
In his big screen debut, Kevin Kline is more broad as the erratic Nathan, full of vivacious energy and overrun by mood swings. Peter MacNicol is caught in the thankless narrator/observer/listener role, and predictably disappears into the wallpaper.
The revelations both past and present come tumbling out in the final hour, the scenes at Auschwitz soaring and hinting at the potential for a magnificent movie had the wartime events dominated. As it stands, the resonance of Sophie's experience is diluted by a barely-there backstory about her family and role as mother. Despite a yawning imbalance in narrative thrust, Sophie's Choice serves as a scintillating actress showcase, and a demonstration of a multi-generational talent in peak form.
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At Michigan State University, astronomy doctoral student Kate Dibiasky (Jennifer Lawrence) discovers a new large comet, with a trajectory to strike and destroy Earth in 6 months. She alerts her Professor Dr. Randall Mindy (Leonardo DiCaprio), and they are soon connected with Dr. Teddy Oglethorpe (Rob Morgan), head of the Planetary Defense Coordination Office. They are granted an audience with US President Janie Orlean (Meryl Streep) and her Chief of Staff (and son) Jason (Jonah Hill), who don't take the threat seriously.
Randall and Kate take their story to the media, landing at the top-rated television show hosted by Brie (Cate Blanchett) and Jack (Tyler Perry). Brie's main takeaway is that Randall is a dishy scientist and she sets out to seduce him. Meanwhile the end-of-the-world threat starts to cause panic, but also political divisions, with the science being questioned. When powerful cellular phone and social media tycoon Peter Isherwell (Mark Rylance) announces the comet contains precious minerals worth trillions, attempts to destroy it are abandoned in favour of trying to exploit the riches, causing further divisions between sidelined scientists and power-hungry politicians.
Both the funniest thing and the scariest thing about Don't Look Up is that it's all too real. Sure, writer and director Adam McKay cannot resist triple-underlining some of his satirical jabs, but unlike in his previous outing, here the glib attitude is controlled and the hits well outnumber the misses.The premise of a massive comet about to strike Earth may well be the next cataclysmic event facing humanity, but could also stand in for climate change, the next pandemic, or any other large casualty threat. With recent history as an excellent guide, the reactions portrayed in Don't Look Up are more than believable. Memes, ratings, personal attacks, personality cults, denial of science, obfuscation campaigns, political calculus, and profit motives overwhelm the simple truth, inflicting unnecessary death in large numbers.
In a manic example of cramming more as a representation of what counts as important, side-plots and intentional distractions litter the film, some funnier than others. Brie cannot wait to claim Randall as a sexual conquest, threatening his marriage to June (Melanie Lynskey). President Orlean is embroiled in an ever-worsening scandal related to her Supreme Court appointee (Erik Parillo). A politically incorrect pilot (Ron Perlman) leads the initial suicide mission to the comet. After being shunned by the world and having the comet named after her, Dibiasky befriends skater dude Yule (Timothée Chalamet). And most notably, pop star Riley Bina (Ariana Grande) is going through a romantic break-up and reconciliation, a story deemed much more important than the impending end of the world.
A dream cast sharpens all the satirical angles. Despite the abundant talent pool at his disposal, McKay finds meaningful and memorable roles for each, helped by the long 138 minutes of running time. Leonardo DiCaprio has fun as an anxiety-wracked scientist suddenly thrust into the spotlight and labeled an AILF (Astronomer I'd Like to F**k). Mark Rylance is the other stand-out as the truly creepy (no eye contact) tech tycoon holding all the true power, his line delivery a study in understated bludgeoning. Less successful is Jonah Hill as the nepotistic appointment who actually believes he is smart, his contributions rarely clicking.
Openly flirting with species-get-what-they-deserve resignation, Don't Look Up is depressingly funny.
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Los Angeles-based marketing executive Daniel Miller (Albert Brooks) dies in a car crash on his 39th birthday. He is transported to the idyllic campus setting of Judgment City where his life's actions will be evaluated to determine if he deserves to progress or be sent back for another round on Earth. He meets his lawyer Bob Diamond (Rip Torn) and prosecutor Lena Foster (Lee Grant), and learns that nine days of his life will be used as evidence to judge his maturity as measured by acting without fear.
As his case is progressing Daniel meets Julia (Meryl Streep), recently deceased by accidental drowning. They enjoy the perks of Judgment City together, including unlimited food with no weight gain, and quickly fall in love. But it is soon clear Julia has lived impeccably and will be progressing, while Daniel still has a lot to learn about living life to the fullest and will likely be consigned back to the drudgery of another terrestrial life.
Finding an interesting seam between religious dogma and existentialism, Defending Your Life creates a secular afterlife governed by the universe, offering progress towards the joys of larger brain utilization for promising candidates. The only punishment for underachievement is a do-over, and Daniel Miller learns he is, in fact, on his 20th go-round, and still has work to do.But having gone to the trouble of creating an intriguing premise, writer and director Brooks undersells the concept and tacks on a very earth-like rom-com with all the associated cringiness. Life's accomplishments are reduced to the simplistic objective of acting without fear, and neither prosecutor Foster nor defendor Diamond appear convinced. The film's key hinge scenes, replaying and evaluating Daniel's critical days, are reduced to routine bland vignettes ultimately suggesting little of consequence.
The romance between Daniel and Julia is hustled along at celestial speed from initial meeting to expressions of deep love, the attraction between them based on little more than Meryl Streep's whimsical etheralism. To endear himself Daniel unleashes a stream of corny dialogue that by itself should rush-deliver him back to Earth for swift punishment. Julia is never provided a reason to fall in love, while Brooks skips over any explanations about the rules of post-death romance.
A steady current of mild humour is maintained, mostly drawn from secondary characters and the absurdities of the surroundings. But Brooks as an actor sleepwalks through the film with apathetic bemusement, and Streep delivers one of her least impactful roles, Julia drawn as an elusive ideal rather than a person.
Defending Your Life is tantalizingly close to being good, but surrenders to meek resolutions.
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Twice-divorced 42 year old Isaac Davis (Allen) lives in Manhattan and works as a writer for a low-brow live-audience television show. His current girlfriend is 17 year old student Tracy (Mariel Hemingway), and she is more invested in their relationship. Isaac's best friend Yale (Michael Murphy), a teacher, is married but having an affair with writer and editor Mary (Diane Keaton). Isaac and Mary initially clash, but gradually build a friendship.
Isaac learns his ex-wife Jill (Meryl Streep, on the cusp of stardom), who is now in a lesbian relationship, is writing a tell-all book exposing the sordid details of their marriage. He also has a meltdown at work and is forced to look for a new apartment. Then Yale breaks off the affair with Mary and Tracy secures a student position in London, clearing the way for Isaac and Mary to start a serious relationship, but their previous liaisons will linger.
Filmed in wispy black and white, Manhattan opens with a montage of New York cityscapes and Isaac narrating various iterations of self-definition through his impressions of the city. Allen (who co-wrote the script with Marshall Brickman) identifies his main character through the prism of the town's strengths and frustrations, and the film proceeds to tightly focus on a small group of friends navigating emotional ups and downs.Many hookups and breakups occur during the course of 96 minutes, but Manhattan's beauty resides in the cloud-like narrative progression. Allen weaves the stories into a seamless fabric devoid of melodrama, milestones noted almost in passing through engrossing scenes of dialogue, the city an ever-present backdrop observer.
Allen's trademark neurotic self-obsession here extends to almost all the main characters (Tracy is the most grounded), and a layer of deprecating self-awareness is added to the pulsing anxiety. Isaac admits his problems are small in the overall global context, but personal angst is potentially manageable while the world's crises are not. Both Isaac and Mary are seeing shrinks, although her shrink may need his own better therapist.
The lovers carry their emotional luggage, accumulated from previous broken marriages, in plain sight, and honesty is close to the surface throughout. Isaac is blunt with Tracy that their relationship has a short shelf life, while both Yale and Mary are mindful their affair is ridiculous and doomed to fail, and yet they are caught in a web of illicit love.The group of friends exist in an isolated bubble of upper middle class bourgeois writers seemingly oblivious to any other social constructs. With rapidfire elite cultural references to the likes of Flaubert, Freud, Zelda Fitzgerald, Noel Coward, August Strindberg, Fellini, and Bergman, Allen rides a fine line between humour and altogether alienating a large chunk of his audience.
But Manhattan ultimately draws down the curtain on 1970s portrayals of New York. The dangerous, dirty and downbeat city of the past cinematic decade is eased out, replaced with art galleries and museums, a safe Central Park, the Russian Tea Room, elite cocktail gatherings and the glorious Queensboro Bridge at sunrise. Inspired by the optimistic tunes of George Gershwin, the city is set to reinvent itself for a new decade, marked by the red heart of those who choose to love it.
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