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Enough Already With The Mid-Life Crisis Loser Brigade. By Stacey Richter DECEMBER 7, 1998: WHAT'S LEFT TO be said about Woody Allen? Or maybe the question is, "What does Woody have left to say?" He's Mick Jagger doing "Satisfaction" at age 50. He's a food you loved as a kid that tastes sort of disgusting now, though you're still nostalgic for it--like Lucky Charms. He's like a friend who had some amusing idiosyncrasies in his youth, then nurtured his quirks into traits of pure obnoxiousness. He's irritating. He bothers me. He hasn't aged well; or at least, his work hasn't. His new movie, Celebrity, revisits some classic Woody Allen themes: the abject, random nature of love; the hilarity of sexual acts; the inability of relationships to satisfy; the extreme, unbounded erotic appeal of artists (especially writers!). Celebrity reminded me a bit of the Starr report. It's unrelentingly salacious, and who really cares what these people do in bed? Kenneth Branagh plays Lee Simon, a down-on-his-luck writer who can't find satisfaction in work or love. Branagh does his best Woody Allen impersonation, and boy is this annoying. All the tics, the stammering, the close-to-the-body hand gestures, the whiny New York voice of complaint--it's impressive coming from an Englishman, but it's grating by nature.
Lee has shifted into the fast lane. It's everything, all the time. Nicole disappears, but a series of women replace her, and they all seem willing to bed the schleppy, annoying Lee. He meets a supermodel (Charlize Theron) who lets him take her home, then snags a smart, gorgeous girlfriend (Famke Janssen) who supports him unquestioningly. Even Leonardo DiCaprio (who plays a hotel-wrecking bad boy) wants to have an orgy with Lee. Celebrity is like a masturbation fantasy. No one turns him down. If this is what writing unsuccessful novels does, there'd be an awful lot of MFA students with supermodels hanging off their arms. Meanwhile, Lee's ex-wife Robin (Judy Davis) is also trying to find happiness after the divorce. Allen grants Robin a happier life--she eventually meets a nice guy and finds a glamorous job she enjoys--but he humiliates her first. She has to crawl under the table at an opening when she runs into Lee, and later Allen has her go to a madam for lessons in the art of love. A banana-sucking scene ensues.
There are moments, though, when the old Woody resurfaces--when he finds better targets for his meanness, like a self-satisfied book critic, or when he parodies the gala opening for an action film. The meandering, interwoven structure of the film gives it a nice looseness, and Allen even puts in a few relaxed scenes where nothing much is happening--people are just talking, going about their lives. The black-and-white cinematography, by Ingmar Bergman's cameraman Sven Nykvist, also has a loose, off-the-cuff freshness and immediacy that fits Allen's style nicely. It reminds us of better Woody Allen movies past.
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