Inspired by Woody Allen after experiencing Annie Hall, I decided to watch another one of his works, Manhattan. Though I was relatively turned off by the less than stellar performance by Michael Murphy, I found a great deal to enjoy in Allen’s 1979 film, finding the world created to be both exciting and entrancing. An inspired score championing the works of George Gershwin accompanies beautifully composed images of Manhattan’s skyline at both the outset and the culmination of the film. Allen uses the score not only as characterization of the city he “romanticizes,” but also as a reflection of the emotional state of the characters involved, notably employed during his final dash to meet Hemingway before she leaves for London. Camera work was superb as was shot choice, and in most if not all aspects of direction, I found Allen to perform with an evident maturity, exhibiting prudent and expressive stylization (mostly with regards to camera movement and shot composition).
The film echoes sentiments Allen’s often wrestled with, like the issue of starting a family (and his fear of bringing a child into this world, which he [through Michael Murphy’s Yale] deflects by mentioning his considerable workload and other really inapplicable distractions, seen also in Husbands and Wives), the expression of love through sex (here through Michael Murphy’s relationship with Keaton, in Annie Hall through Allen and Keaton’s relationship), the problematic nature of extra-marital relationships (and how they tend to complicate things and feelings), and the ethics involved in dating someone far younger (again, one Allen addresses thoroughly in Husbands and Wives). The dialogue is witty, as we’ve come to expect and love, and provides opportunities for Allen to, among other things: introspect and comment on himself (evident in the foursome’s discussion of Streep’s recently released memoir), comment on art and art criticism (in the art museum, specifically with Keaton), thumb his nose at faux-intellectuals (the whole discussion of “Academy of the Overrated” and the generous application of the label “genius” by Keaton, and a hilarious bit about the misuse of “didacticism”), and make his regular homage to Swedish auteur Ingmar Bergman. Mariel Hemingway’s performance deserves particular applause, as her portrayal of the 17-year-old budding actress is crucial to the establishment of a real, intimate and tangible sense of humanity within the film. She is at once hugely vulnerable, electric, and composed. Allen’s choice to end the narrative portion of the film with a lingering close-up on him and not her, though perhaps justified given the closing statements (they indicate a need for Allen to mature, essentially), almost seems narcissistic, though this might simply be evidence of the weight and impact of Hemingway’s performance.
In the end, I would indeed proclaim the film a masterpiece. It is not quite as amazing as Annie Hall, what I believe to be his chef d’oeuvre, but it is a film which deserves great celebration and recognition.
The film echoes sentiments Allen’s often wrestled with, like the issue of starting a family (and his fear of bringing a child into this world, which he [through Michael Murphy’s Yale] deflects by mentioning his considerable workload and other really inapplicable distractions, seen also in Husbands and Wives), the expression of love through sex (here through Michael Murphy’s relationship with Keaton, in Annie Hall through Allen and Keaton’s relationship), the problematic nature of extra-marital relationships (and how they tend to complicate things and feelings), and the ethics involved in dating someone far younger (again, one Allen addresses thoroughly in Husbands and Wives). The dialogue is witty, as we’ve come to expect and love, and provides opportunities for Allen to, among other things: introspect and comment on himself (evident in the foursome’s discussion of Streep’s recently released memoir), comment on art and art criticism (in the art museum, specifically with Keaton), thumb his nose at faux-intellectuals (the whole discussion of “Academy of the Overrated” and the generous application of the label “genius” by Keaton, and a hilarious bit about the misuse of “didacticism”), and make his regular homage to Swedish auteur Ingmar Bergman. Mariel Hemingway’s performance deserves particular applause, as her portrayal of the 17-year-old budding actress is crucial to the establishment of a real, intimate and tangible sense of humanity within the film. She is at once hugely vulnerable, electric, and composed. Allen’s choice to end the narrative portion of the film with a lingering close-up on him and not her, though perhaps justified given the closing statements (they indicate a need for Allen to mature, essentially), almost seems narcissistic, though this might simply be evidence of the weight and impact of Hemingway’s performance.
In the end, I would indeed proclaim the film a masterpiece. It is not quite as amazing as Annie Hall, what I believe to be his chef d’oeuvre, but it is a film which deserves great celebration and recognition.
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