Some might call this film "navel gazing", but when the gazing pertains to an entire generation, it feels relevant.
Woody Allen's tribute to his city is a delight to watch, accompanied by the Gershwin melodies that are iconically American. When he gets into the story of the film, his character, Isaac, is similar to other characters he has played, but Allen focuses on questions about relationships that resonate with others.
Isaac is surrounded by other relationships-and piece of relationships-in disarray. Marriage and divorce try to arrange feelings neatly, to institutionalize them, but reality is not so orderly. In this film, no one asks how someone can have feelings for more than one person at a time, because this is a film about reality, not about cinematic conventions or fairy tale conceptions of romance.
Isaac is dating a much younger woman named Tracy (Mariel Hemingway) who makes him feel safe because he knows it can never, really, go anywhere. He keeps her at arm's length, emotionally, and never allows himself to think of commitment. He eventually second guesses this strategy, because he always wants what he cannot have-which is more than he currently has.
The ending is perfect, whether you read it as noncommittal or as a statement by Tracy. Her lack of experience means that we can never really know if her love is significant or merely of the moment. In a way, that makes her perfect for Isaac who, despite all his experience, is similarly inscrutable.
This story feels right being set in the city. And the sophisticated conversations about art and philosophy that one expects in an urban setting perfectly ensconce the dialogue about relationships. When Mary (Diane Keaton) gives her vapid opinions of art works, so couched in pseudo-intellectual artspeak, we perceive them the way we perceive their pseudo-psychological conversations
about relationships. And it feels real.
