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.
In the funeral of the famous British journalist Joe Strombel, his colleagues and friends recall how obstinate he was while seeking for a scoop. Meanwhile the deceased Joe discloses the identity of the tarot card serial killer of London. He cheats the Reaper and appears to the American student of journalism Sondra Pransky, who is on the stage in the middle of a magic show of the magician Sidney Waterman in London, and tells her that the murderer is the aristocrat Peter Lyman. Sondra drags Sid in her investigation, seeking for evidences that Peter is the killer. However, she falls in love with him and questions if Joe Strombel is right in his scoop. Written by
Claudio Carvalho, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
In the end credit soundtrack section, the composer Edvard Grieg is misspelled as "Edvard Greig". See more »
Don't mourn for Joe Stromble. Joe Stromble had a full life. A newspaper man in the best tradition. A great credit to the Fourth Estate. It didn't matter if the bombs of the war zone were falling, it didn't matter how high up the political scandal went, or how many big corporations or small time racketeers leaned on him. Whatever the risk, if there was a story there, Joe went after it. And he usually got it.
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Allow yourself to be transported to a different, old school kind of storytelling
Allow yourself to be transported to a different, old school kind of storytelling. Scoop is classic Woody Allen.
Allen's latest muse, Scarlett Johansson (who also appeared in last year's Match Point, also by Allen), is surprisingly able to tone down her sultry sex kitten appeal and transform into a normal looking student-type with the aid of nerdish glasses and outfits but still fails to make the audience believe how Hugh Jackman's lordly character can be so smitten by her, given the royal's background (don't worry, no spoilers here). There are no grand transformations for Johansson's character here, as she consistently plays the same character throughout despite the script saying otherwise. You even forgive her character's apparent lack of logic, continuing an affair with a suspected serial killer, simply because he is His Royal Hotness Jackman, who is refreshing to see sans the Wolverine duds.
If anything, consistency is what the 70-year old Allen is all about. He continues to tell his stories on celluloid in the same way he always has; as if he's never been exposed to modern film-making, which is probably what makes his quiet, simple films appealing. They never seem to aim for a specific market; as if Allen makes movies to his taste alone, whether the public likes it or not.
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