Annie Hall

Okay, Woody Allen could be annoying sometimes and is heavily neurotic even in this film which he wrote and directed. The film is somewhat autobiographical about his relationships with a WASP woman named Annie Hall played by Diane Keaton in her Oscar winning role. Woody plays himself in the film even with a different name. Even though it's a short film, the story moves quickly and you have to be alert for some of the humor about the relationship between men and women. The supporting cast includes Tony Roberts, Paul Simon, Carol Kane and others. Woody's hatred of Los Angeles and all things Californian is well-known and documented. He is out of touch when he is away from New York City where he is equally neurotic. As a couple at first, Woody and Annie get along great but slowly Woody's own negativity creeps into the relationship. Annie starts seeing a therapist and their relationship unravels. When Annie's promising career as a cabaret singer rises, Woody becomes threatened and goes to Los Angeles to bring her back.

Woody Allen's masterpiece with favorite co-star Diane Keaton has Allen casting himself as New York born comedian Alvy Singer and his relationship with Keaton in the title role. Annie Hall is one of those films you can watch four or five times and pick up a bit of humor and/or philosophy that you missed the first time.

Allen is playing himself in Annie Hall, a successful comedian who spends most of his time psychoanalyzing himself and all around him. He can't make any relationship permanent.

Along comes Keaton and it looks like this is the one, but there's always pitfalls when you deal with a walking neurosis like Allen.

Both Woody and Diane fit so naturally in their parts you think you are peeking in on a home movie. Annie Hall won for Best Picture, Best Actress for Diane Keaton, and Best Director and Best Original Screenplay for Woody Allen. Best in the supporting cast is Tony Roberts as Allen's sidekick actor buddy.

This really is a timeless classic. It's humor has no temporal limits. Annie Hall can be made today with the same script and you wouldn't lose a scintilla of humor.

"Annie Hall" is a brilliant romantic comedy that could have only been made by Woody Allen (Oscar-winning in directing and writing, nominated in acting). Allen stars as a Jewish stand-up comic who falls in love with aspiring actress Diane Keaton (in a well-deserved Oscar-winning turn as the titled character). Their relationship is explored throughout the course of the film in a gentle and warm-hearted way. Allen's unique views and brand of humor are prevalent from start to finish and the film is clearly made in the 1970s as many issues from that time period are explored as the film progresses. "Annie Hall" is simple in many ways, but deals with romantic issues in complex ways and the film is just so intelligent that it is near impossible to dislike. Woody Allen is brilliant as he usually is. Diane Keaton hit super-stardom as well with her role. The supporting cast includes the likes of Carol Kane, Shelley Duvall, Tony Roberts, Christopher Walken and Colleen Dewhurst. Look for an unknown Jeff Goldblum as an extra during the Los Angeles sequence. 5 stars out of 5.

The film that bested Star Wars for the 1977 Best Picture Oscar, Annie Hall is a remarkable achievement in filmmaking that transcends its simple, romantic premise to create a stunning portrait of not only 70's pop culture, but of human nature cumulative. Directed and co-written by Woody Allen, who has since directed other gems such as Hannah and Her Sisters and The Purple Rose of Cairo, Annie Hall also stars Allen as Alvy Singer, a neurotic, death-obsessed comedian who seems unlucky in love and life. That is until he meets Annie, brilliantly played by Diane Keaton, who is beautiful, fashion-savvy, carefree (she likes using expressions like `la di da'), and a terrible driver.

Annie and Alvy's relationship is an unlikely one. She's a Midwestern girl, straight out of white-bread Wisconsin; he's a life-long New York Jew who grew up (literally) under the Coney Island roller coaster. He's been seeing a therapist for the past 16 years; she only `needs' one once she meets him. She's an extroverted aspiring singer; he's an introverted, world-despising imp. Yet Allen and Keaton are so perfect in their roles, they improbably make this couple one of the most memorable ever.

The plot revolves around Alvy's chronicles of loves lost and a retrospective on his relationship with Annie, with whom he has since parted ways. At the end of the film, we see Alvy try his hand at stage-writing-he writes a play about his relationship with Annie, but gives it a happy ending. Yes, Annie and Alvy don't have a fairy tale ending to their relationship, but Alvy certainly wishes they had, even though he learns to live with the acknowledgment it has failed.

The best part of Annie Hall is its incredible screenplay-the best ever to be written. Not a word is wasted nor a line unquotable. Except here, while Allen's early films had thrived on streams of one-liners, Allen doesn't go for cheap laughs-each line is simultaneously hilarious and poignant. Everything is part of a greater whole. We laugh because it's funny, but there's a greater dynamic at work in Annie Hall. This is a story not exclusively about a relationship between two people, but also a musing on 70's politics, drugs, East Coast/West Coast rivalry, narcissism, religion, celebrity, and several other topics with which Allen deals with extraordinary ease.

Yet Annie Hall would not be among my favorite films of all-time if it were just Woody Allen ranting and raving about what he likes and dislikes. There are other Allen films that serve that purpose, i.e. Deconstructing Harry, and they're not nearly as good. What separates Annie Hall is its grace, the believable chemistry between Keaton and Allen, the unique direction (ranging from split-screens to cartoon imagery to on-screen subtitles of what the actors are thinking), but mostly because it's the rare film to find a perfect balance between sheer entertainment, humor, and poignancy.

When the dust had settled, Diane Keaton deservedly won an Academy Award for her performance, Allen took home Oscars for direction and writing, and the film beat out Star Wars for Best Picture, which most people consider a complete sham. Evidently, those people didn't see Annie Hall, for if they had, they'd recognize that the acting, writing, and even the direction in Star Wars can't hold a candle to Annie Hall, one of the best films ever made.

10/10

Alvy Singer (Woody Allen) is something of a hopeless romantic. A cynical, death-obsessed New York Jewish comedian, Singer has never been able to maintain a steady relationship with a woman. He has been married twice, and divorced twice. He broke up with one woman because of their disagreements over the "second shooter" conspiracy of John F. Kennedy's assassination, or perhaps that was just his excuse. To paraphrase Freud, possibly Groucho Marx, he simply "would never want to belong to any club that would accept someone like him for a member." He doesn't drive because he is paranoid about driving; he has been seeing a psychiatrist for the past fifteen years, though these appointments were long ago reduced to simple "whining" sessions. There is an inherent uncertainty in everything that Singer says – as though he really knows what he's talking about, but he can't convince himself that he's got it right.

When he accompanies a friend (Tony Roberts) to a tennis game, Singer's first and foremost concern is that the club will deny him entry because he's a Jew. However, that fateful game serves forth something so much more significant and life-changing – he comes to meet the ditsy and exuberant Annie Hall (Diane Keaton). Despite clearly having very little in common, something clicks between the two eligibles, and they embark on a tumultuous years-long relationship that will inevitably fail to materialise into anything further. Erupting with clever dialogue and witty cultural references, 'Annie Hall's' script is one of the best you'll ever see. Not only is the conversation entertaining to listen to, but – even with all the talking to the camera and interacting with random extras – it actually manages to seem startlingly realistic. This is no small thanks, of course, to the main actors, who embody their characters so perfectly that we're unsure if they are acting or merely playing themselves.

Though he had previously released a few well-received, light-hearted affairs, it was 'Annie Hall' that blasted writer/actor/director Woody Allen into the realms of super-stardom. In an uncharacteristic move for the Academy, Allen's film won four 1978 Oscars, including Best Actress (Keaton), Best Original Screenplay (Allen, Marshall Brickman), Best Director (Allen) and Best Picture – not undeservedly, though millions of 'Star Wars' fans would, I'm sure, disagree. Having revisited 'Annie Hall' for the first time in a year, having since enjoyed many of Allen's other films, I am genuinely amazed at his transition from silly comedian to insightful observer on human relationships. Of course, a noticeable evolution in his film-making style is evident in both the science-fiction 'Sleeper (1973)' and the Russian historical spoof 'Love and Death (1975),' but neither boasts the the intelligence nor the sophistication of this film, which wholly discards the Chaplin-like slapstick of Allen's previous films and adopts the Tracy-Hepburn screwball comedy of a decade later.

Originally slated – and filmed, in fact – as a New York murder mystery with a romantic sub-plot, 'Annie Hall' was taken by editor Ralph Rosenbaum and cut down (massacred, if you will) into the modern, witty 1970s screwball comedy that we still enjoy today. It is truly amazing that such an extensive post-production reshaping had no obvious ill effects upon the general flow of the film, though the structure in itself is so hectic that we probably wouldn't notice it, anyway: Allen frequently cuts forwards and backwards in time, his modern characters are able to revisit and discuss the past, characters in split screens interact, Allen regularly breaks the "fourth wall" and addresses the audience directly. Some of the discarded murder mystery elements from 'Annie Hall' were later incorporated into another Allen film, 'Manhattan Murder Mystery (1993),' which also co-starred Keaton.

Aside from Allen and Keaton, numerous smaller roles provide a crucial framework for the overall structure of the film. Tony Roberts is Rob, Singer's old friend and confidant. Paul Simon (of Simon and Garfunkel) plays a record producer who takes a keen interest in both Annie and her singing. Shelley Duvall is a reporter for 'The Rolling Stone' magazine, and a one-time girlfriend of Singer. There are also tiny early roles for Christopher Walken (as Annie's somewhat disturbed brother), Jeff Goldblum (who speaks one memorable line at a party – "Hello? I forgot my mantra") and Sigourney Weaver (who can be briefly glimpsed as Singer's date outside a theatre). Two slightly more unusual cameos come from Truman Capote (as a Truman Capote-lookalike, no less) and scholar Marshall McLuhan (whom Singer suddenly procures from behind a movie poster to declare to a talkative film-goer that "you know nothing of my work!").

Easily the most innovative and energetic of the films I've so far seen from Woody Allen, 'Annie Hall' is a spirited glimpse at the incompatibility of human beings, and a cynical yet bittersweet meditation on the falsity of the perfect romantic Hollywood ending. It is also a considerable comedic achievement, and Allen would repeatedly recycle his trademark neurotic New Yorker screen persona, most notably in 'Manhattan (1979),' but never with more success than this premium outing in excellence. The engagingly-convoluted storyline moves with such briskness that you don't realise just how very little happens, and that, by the film's end, our characters are exactly where they were at the beginning. Nevertheless, Allen manages to say something significant about human relationships – they're totally irrational, crazy and absurd, but we keep attempting them because of what they give us in return. Or, at least, what we think they give us.