Every Wednesday, FM writers Simon Columb and Brogan Morris write two short reviews on Woody Allen films … in the hope of watching all his films over the course of roughly 49 weeks. If you have been watching Woody’s films and want to join in, feel free to comment with short reviews yourself! Next up is Melinda and Melinda & Sweet and Lowdown…
Simon Columb on Melinda and Melinda…
Great concept – confused execution. Four filmmakers discuss how tragedies and comedies are not mutually exclusive before proceeding to tell two stories about Melinda (Radha Mitchell). They are the same story initially, but are told as tragedy and comedy. Melinda interrupts a meal, but as the story progresses, the chosen genre dictates a different direction. Unfortunately, the comedy isn’t funny enough (despite a quirky scene, harking back to Woody Allen’s early comedies, as Will Ferrell struggles with a dressing-gown caught in a door), while the tragedy doesn’t have the heart to challenge your emotions. The experimental starting point of Melinda & Melinda demands your attention – but rather than compare, it simply becomes two stories with a similar central character. Attempted suicide (in the comedy) and murder (in the tragedy) can be comedic or tragic depending on the tone, but in Melinda and Melinda, it isn’t clear what tone to settle upon.
Brogan Morris on Sweet and Lowdown…
A character study for one of Woody Allen’s least likeable characters, the prohibition-era ‘biopic’ Sweet and Lowdown stars Sean Penn as “second greatest guitar player in the world” Emmet Ray. Thing is, Ray is fictional, yet the potentially ruinous framing device of ‘experts’ interrupting the narrative with testimonies about Ray’s life, as though he actually existed, is genius, particularly in a late mini-Rashomon moment where multiple versions of an Emmet Ray story play out before us. More difficult is that Penn doesn’t make the self-destructive, chauvinistic egotist sympathetic, making the film – gorgeous autumnal cinematography, lively jazz guitar soundtrack and all – hard to watch. It’s Samantha Morton, as Ray’s mute girlfriend Hattie, that keeps the viewer clinging on, her boundlessly expressive features imbuing the film with its only warmth. That’s before the ending arrives as suddenly, joltingly heartbreaking, and Allen makes us realise we actually do care about his unpleasant protagonist.
Brogan Morris – Lover of film, writer of words, pretentious beyond belief. Thinks Scorsese and Kubrick are the kings of cinema, but PT Anderson and David Fincher are the young princes. Follow Brogan on Twitter if you can take shameless self-promotion.
