A director is forced to work with his ex-wife, who left him for the boss of the studio bankrolling his new film. But the night before the first day of shooting, he develops a case of psychosomatic blindness.
Suffering from writer's block and eagerly awaiting his writing award, Harry Block remembers events from his past and scenes from his best-selling books as characters, real and fictional, come back to haunt him.
Jerry Falk and David Dobel, who meet at a business meeting, become fast friends. Their commonality is that they are both fledgling New York based comedy writers, largely writing material for stand-ups, are Jewish (although David is an atheist), and are each of bundle of different neuroses. Their big difference is that Jerry is twenty-one, while David is sixty, with forty more years worth of life experience, knowledge and neuroses. While Jerry writes full time - he also working on a novel - David has kept his day job as a public school teacher just in case. In their relationship, David becomes somewhat of Jerry's mentor, providing advice on Jerry's life issues, most which revolve around the fact that Jerry is a product of inertia, he having trouble leaving anyone. That's why Jerry's still with the one and only manager he's ever had, Harvey Wexler. Jerry not only being Harvey's only client (which is a testament to his effectiveness in the job), Harvey also has a 25% take as stipulated ... Written by
When Falk types on his laptop computer, the number of (enlarged) typed lines alternates between five in close-up to just three at a distance. See more »
You know, there's great wisdom in jokes, Falk, really. There's an old joke about a prizefighter who's in the ring, and he's getting killed, he's getting his brains beat out; and his mother's in the audience, and she's watching him getting beaten up in the ring, and there's a priest next to her, and she says 'Father, father, pray for him, pray for him!' The priest says 'I will pray for him, but if he could punch it would help!' There's more insight in that joke, into what I call the...
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Ok, the man is an establishment. That's what keeps this movie from being vague, shallow and void. Woody Allen can claim for himself his kind of movies, and nobody else does them like he does. So, when you see a Woody Allen movie, you know precisely what you are going to get, the difference being sometimes more surprised, and sometimes less. Well, here there's no surprise, except the way that Allen seeks new talent and awards them with the typical alter ego role. It's up to them to prove that they can handle it. Kenneth Branagh did it, John Cusack did it, and now Jason Biggs is the nervous new yorker who goes to psycho analysis. Well, it works, but the truth is that Biggs' character behaves like a 35-year-old trapped in a 21-year-old body. And the fact that some of the movie doesn't make much sense, you can never forget that this is the realm of Woody Allen, and even if it doesn't make sense, it's always funny and you'll always laugh. Everybody remembers the plotless "Everybody Says I Love You" but no one cared for the plot. It was entertaining. Same here. Sometimes I'd wish that Woody Allen tried a little harder to make movies with a thicker plot - remember "Bullets Over Broadway". But anyway, this movie is a permanent joy to watch, thanks to the great actors, great comedy (even with a non-existent story) and a great photography from Darius Khondji.
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