Un jour de pluie à New York

It's true that Woody Allen is writing silly dialogue that's completely old-fashioned and way above the heads of any youngster in New York, and it's true that the story here is completely silly and motivations are way off. But it's somehow a charming way to spend a couple of hours. Elle Fanning is kooky and does her best to be a chip off the old Diane Keaton block. Timothee Chalamet is dreamy and solid but doesn't get enough clout. I'm not fond of the huddle of middle-aged film lotharios jumping all over Fanning, and I don't think Selena Gomez had enough sharp lines. However, it's another study from Allen of New York as a live character taking over the people in it and sweeping them along. Cherry Jones is extremely well-cast as the mother with a secret and Allen saves the best till last. I probably won't watch it again for a long time, not one of his best but not the worst either. It's a shame that Netflix have done what they did to Allen. Not just for him, but the hundreds of names that rolled past in the credits of all the cast and crew who worked so hard on this movie to have it junked in the US, who did nothing to deserve this. Thank god I live in Europe where art is respected, and we have the intelligence to separate the work from the artist. I look forward to the next one to come out.