| Cast overview, first billed only: | |||
| Woody Allen | ... | Isaac | |
| Diane Keaton | ... | Mary | |
| Michael Murphy | ... | Yale | |
| Mariel Hemingway | ... | Tracy | |
| Meryl Streep | ... | Jill | |
| Anne Byrne Hoffman | ... | Emily (as Anne Byrne) | |
| Karen Ludwig | ... | Connie | |
| Michael O'Donoghue | ... | Dennis | |
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Victor Truro | ... | Party Guest |
| Tisa Farrow | ... | Party Guest | |
| Helen Hanft | ... | Party Guest | |
| Bella Abzug | ... | Guest of Honor | |
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Gary Weis | ... | Television Director |
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Kenny Vance | ... | Television Producer |
| Charles Levin | ... | Television Actor #1 | |
Forty-two year old Isaac Davis has a romanticized view of his hometown, New York City, most specifically Manhattan, as channeled through the lead character in the first book he is writing, despite his own Manhattan-based life being more of a tragicomedy. He has just quit his job as a hack writer for a bad television comedy, he, beyond the ten second rush of endorphins during the actual act of quitting, now regretting the decision, especially as he isn't sure he can live off his book writing career. He is paying two alimonies, his second ex-wife, Jill Davis, a lesbian, who is writing her own tell-all book of their acrimonious split. The one somewhat positive aspect of his life is that he is dating a young woman named Tracy, although she is only seventeen and still in high school. Largely because of their differences a big part of which is due to their ages, he does not see a long term future with her. His life has the potential to be even more tragicomical when he meets journalist Mary... Written by Huggo
Woody does two kinds of films: those in which he experiments by creating bold essays in exploration of a single idea, and those where he relaxes and employs his whole palette.
This is one of his essays. In 'Annie Hall' the project was all about coordinated levels of narratives, trying to outdo 'Citizen Kane' in the variety an overlay of narrative types. In fact, there were dozens of types and a whole storyline that were cut to make the thing somewhat comprehendable.
Here, he focuses on finely managed vision, the Eisensteinian overlay of images to build and build a fabric. That fabric is orchestrated from Gershwin, the fabric of the city and a remarkable framing of intimate scenes in a larger context. It is worth seeing on those terms alone. Framed movement.
Everything is subservient to this essay, which is competent and original. But the story -- such as it is -- is there only as something to hold the space, a simple placeholder about seekers of warmth and shared breath.
But even so, that story is completely captured by the remarkable Murial Hemingway. Everyone else acts, and their characters appear to be finding themselves. They fumble around with who they are. Muriel is true, so much so we suspect she is not acting at all, or at least not in the sense the others do.
It is 25 years later, and that time has deepened this film, in part because few filmmakers since have used the anamorphic ratio for intimate purposes. The display of films on TeeVee screens has made that unfeasible.
But there is something else. Watching Muriel, we know that this moment will be her fullest, her only connection with the transcendent. Forces of the city, not entirely unlike Woody's character, would disassemble and destroy her. That last, punctuated moment in the lobby would her movement into an abyss beyond the innocent purity she plays, and the visual approach to the material Woody underscores.
Ted's Evaluation -- 3 of 3: Worth watching.