A work of singular irony, in that the most retro--some might even say backwards, or stuck in the past--of all filmmakers, Woody Allen, has made a movie that ultimately celebrates forward motion and moving on to new things in life. So much for context. The film itself, in terms of story, characters, and presentation, is fine, maybe even better than fine, though lightweight enough that it has little impact beyond a cute and clever way to kill a couple of hours. There is the barest subtext, fitting for these times, about the awfulness of rich people, and why Owen Wilson's protagonist is better off making the choice he eventually makes--but there's no ringing declaration made here. This is, after all, just a movie--one good enough that you should give it a look, if not an award.
No comments:
Post a Comment