Sometimes I Feel Like A Human Sacrifice: New York Stories (1989)

The anthology film has become a thing to expect in contemporary cinema, a means within which to bridge the gap between loose genre ideas or to create a feeling of a global community discussing the rhetoric of a singular idea, such as love, loss or happiness.  Even the other omnibus works, such as Paris Je T'aime suffer from a heavy sense of knowing that this work is offered within a collection of larger statements, therefore, unjustly affording filmmakers a belief that they do not really have to try and offer anything of worthy cinematic consideration.  This is by far not the case when concerning New York Stories, a set of three featurettes by three directors whose identities are more or less inextricably tied to the city.  What makes this anthology work particularly fascinating is that the products of two out of three of the filmmakers are some of their best work in rather storied and well-regarded careers, and the third while clearly the weakest in the collection, nonetheless lays out what cinephiles would come to expect from a second generation filmmaker and writer in one of cinemas most well-respected families.  Where as other city film anthologies use the space of the movie to wax poetic about the serene and sentimental experiences of the spaces they occupy, New York Stories exists in  world about New York that paints it both with endearing pride, while also making note of all the ways it is a city of struggles, failures and lack.  Two out of the three works exist in a state of magical realism, nonetheless, playing upon the tropes of New York, where as the other manages to pinpoint into a singular narrative of a man and woman "in love," perhaps even extending into its own consideration of the relationship between New York and New Yorker.  I say all of this having only spent a couple of hours in New York as a teenager, not really understanding a bit about its spaces or the bodies which occupy its vast area.  Instead, what I posit is that New York Stories works for all moviegoers because through the intimacy of the subject matter, passion emerges, so much so that it becomes a text book look at New York, the entity, without ever being pretentious or calling attention to many viewers outsider status.

Split into three distinctly different narratives, the first film directed by Martin Scorsese is title Life Lessons and focuses on action painter Lionel (Nick Nolte) who is panicking for his upcoming studio exhibit, much to the chagrin of his agent  Lionel, while allegedly capable of throwing together a show at a moments notice is, nonetheless, anxiously awaiting the return of his assistant and lover Paulette (Rosanna Arquette).  Upon her return Paulette explains that she no longer wants to be involved with Lionel and has indeed just ended a tumultuous relationship with performance artist Gregory Stark (Steve Buscemi).  Flailing to assert his authority, Lionel plays a game of cat and mouse with Paulette, using his power as an artistic giant to convince her to stay and hone her craft in his studio.  However, it becomes clear that Lionel is only interested in using her sexually, leading to her eventually packing her things and leaving, an act that leads Lionel to complete his Bridge to Nowhere painting and mirroring this metaphor with his immediately moving on to a new ingenue during his exhibit opening.  The second film Life Without Zoe, is directed by Francis Ford Coppola and co-written by his daughter Sofia Coppola.  Wherein a young girl named Zoe (Heather McComb) talks in roundabout fairy tales as a way to analyze the troublesome relationship between her parents flautist Claudio (Giancarlo Giannini)  and wife Charlotte (Talia Shire), as well as commenting upon the feelings of alienation which emerge for her parents constantly being away.  In a decidedly child as adult feel evident in later Sofia Coppola work, the film looks at Zoe's attempts to act in the hyper-adult, only able to do so through excessive wealth.  In the end, however, Zoe realizes that sometimes a momentary feeling of unity with one's family is far more valuable than anything money could hope to buy.  The final segment is Woody Allen's Oedipus Wrecks which focuses on Sheldon (Woody Allen) an established attorney with a loving girlfriend named Lisa (Mia Farrow).  Despite success and love, Sheldon cannot shake the condemnation he constantly faces by his mother, played by Mae Questel.  It is during an "unfortunate" accident at a magic show that Sheldon's mother disappears inexplicably, leading to a momentary feeling of freedom by Sheldon, improving his sex life, while allowing him the freedom to excel at his job in new ways.  However, when his mother emerges as a floating entity in the sky line of New York things change drastically and Sheldon's feelings of oppression blow up to a grandiose proportion.  It is indeed not until he finds a new girlfriend appropriate to his mother's strict demands that her presence no longer becomes omniscient, or at least less blatantly so as the closing moments of the film might suggest.

The fascinating thing about this particular anthology is that aside from auteurist elements present within each film, one could find themselves hard-pressed to claim a thematic link between the three separate stories.  Indeed, aside from the psychoanalytic nightmare that is traditional Woody Allen filmmaking from the era, these seem like, as noted earlier, statements on existing within New York, more so that individual films about a city.  For Scorsese, the issue at hand is how one "performs" the New York lifestyle, particularly one like the New York art world which predicates itself upon a certain pomp and circumstance where struggle is embraced, but not something that should be affirmed physically.  Take the distinct difference between Lionel and Paulette for example, he is well off given his status in high art and can afford to drunkenly feign trouble, whereas Paulette's gender and other issues legitimize her struggle and also do not allow her the privilege to simply perform any degree of abjection.  Coppola's film then becomes about the issue of learning class privilege in the space of New York, it is fitting that Sofia helped write this script, because it lends a layer of credibility to how she would have seen the world as a youth, attempting to rationalize the decadence of her youth with the bustling reality of New York, one where hands literally extend from the trash to beg for food, while she can purchase absurd amounts of food, jewelry and even alcohol despite being admittedly too young to understand how credit works.  The robbery in the film takes on a wonderful layer of class conflict, as does the closing moment in Rome become a moment of scathing irony, which would become a staple of Sofia Coppola's oeuvre (it would be fascinating, in fact, to stand this film up against Marie Antoinette).  With these two films in mind, Oedipus Wrecks then considers the nature of constant looking and watching that occurs within New York, to Allen, New York in all its wonder is also a place where every action is scrutinized, because space is limited and filled with many bodies, all with stories and opinions, some more willing to share than others.  Always the existentialist, the film considers what distinction could possibly emerge between Sheldon's singular struggles and the larger struggles of society.  Perhaps it is all inherently meaningless and Sheldon is merely overreacting, what Allen does show is that, in the end, some encounters are simply unavoidable.

Key Scene: Woody Allen steals the show here and Sheldon's smirk when his mother is "being stabbed" will make you laugh.

The bluray for this is surprisingly cheap, but should in no way suggest a lesser product.  In fact, this is probably one of the more overlooked works from the year.

Art And Masturbation. Two Areas In Which I Am An Absolute Expert: Stardust Memories (1980)

I have viewed a handful of Woody Allen films on the blog since its inception, looking quite favorably upon his 2011 work Midnight In Paris, while being a bit more cautious about liking Shadows and Fog, one of the directors lesser known works.  However, I have yet to tackle one of his more well received and critically acclaimed films, in this case Stardust Memories.  Sure I have mentioned Allen's work on at least one or two occasions via Top Ten Thursdays, but have yet to really tackle one of his more interesting cinematic offerings.  Fortunately, Stardust Memories more than offers me an opportunity to deal with what can be agreed upon as some of his traditional themes.  Stardust Memories, is incredibly referential in its existence, making clear its homage status towards Fellini's 8 1/2, while also making note of Allen's direct influence via The Marx Brothers, as well as other contemporary filmmakers.  In fact, Allen is so up front in his purpose full references to the classic European directors that you can instantly forget this and realize that Stardust Memories is very much its own work, one of such sweet sentimentality and bitter regret that it does not take the constant bemoaning of existential motifs to clearly identify this as a work by the established comedic director.  Stardust Memories, is inarguably Allen's most artisticly oriented work, which is understandable because the director is clearly contesting the nature of art and its place in an individuals daily life, whether it be as an overarching metaphor to their every action or as a driving force in the manner with which they engage society.  I always laugh during Woody Allen films, I would be hard pressed to find anyone who deems themselves an intellectual that would not find his movies funny, but with this film in particular I often found my laughter to be rooted in the close to home nature of many of the main characters struggles, sure he is trying to find a means to justify his place artistically, but so much of the larger schema of the film is the character merely figuring out why he exists at all...a constant existential crisis I seem to find reemerging on a daily basis and something that appears to constantly prey upon Woody Allen to this day.

Stardust Memories focuses on Sandy Bates (Woody Allen) a well-established director who is suffering from a considerable loss of fan base because he is failing to make films that were blatantly funny, like some of his original works, instead; he has meandered into metaphor and despair as his latest work suggest, which focuses on a set of train passengers riding off inexplicably into what appears to be a garbage dump.  Despite chastising and pleading via everyone from his lovers to his producers, Sandy adamantly believes that his newer films speak more to the human condition than his earlier comedies which he finds childish and ignorant.  At the urging of his wife and company executives, Sandy agrees to attend a retrospective of his works up until this point in his career, an event held at the Stardust Hotel which proves to be essentially exactly what he expected, a series of people asking fluff questions while simultaneously begging him to either procure an autograph or agree to attend a slew of various charitable events and auctions.  The occurrences seem rather rudimentary and uneventful until a lover from his past emerges, a French actress named Isobel (Marie-Christine Barrault) causes Sandy to question his life up until this point, particularly his relationship with his wife Dorrie (Charlotte Rampling) who has stayed adamantly beside him despite his clear history of infidelity and constant harping on his own existential being.  As Sandy deals with the issues his past films begin to collide far to beautifully with his own struggles paralleling his life as he flails to deal with it.  It is only after a "literal" otherworldly experience that Sandy realizes his futile efforts to struggle with a grander human existence and, instead, celebrates the most simple moments of his life, in a meta-meta-cinema moment the film within a film, which happens to also be within a film ends, with Sandy (or Woody) leaving the screening of Stardust Memories, the individuals reflecting on the films closing, asking the same questions that the assumedly fictional critics did within the films opening scenes.  In Woody Allen's world life imitates art, not the other way around.

In the hands of any other director a flat out homage to, and at some points remake of 8 1/2 would be pretentious and self-serving, yet even when Stardust Memories is clearly existing to serve the cause of Woody Allen it manages to be such an artistically sound piece of cinema that its validity and beauty is not to be questioned.  The fact that Allen is so self-aware throughout the film certainly helps to explain the work as being detached from pretension.  Sure the images of Grucho Marx on the wall juxtaposed with the violence in Vietnam could be deemed in bad taste, but I would adamantly argue that they exist in the film to display the foolish notion that an artist should always and at once be commenting on the tragedies within the world while also being accessible.  The characters in Stardust Memories miss Sandy's old funny pictures, but are incapable of realizing that the questions he seeks to answer and study are not possible within a comedic setting, because lets face it there is no funny way to deal with the now infamous image of a man being shot in the streets of Vietnam, yet some moviegoers seem to desire this occurrence, without realizing its inherent flaw in logic, as well as its overall bad taste.  Allen's films are, as opposed to someone like Jean-Luc Godard, rarely concerned with the political suffering of other countries, instead he contests the problems of guilt related to realizing you having nothing to suffer from, certainly not economic woe or physical harm.  While there is something to be said about the zealous approach to how Godard merges comedy, cinema and politics, it often fails miserably, as opposed to Allen, who in Stardust Memories manages to take a very personal guilt about lacking a critical global eye and not only mock it, but in the end justify it as a reminder that he chooses not to speak on certain blatantly corrupt acts, because his filmic medium would do no good to its level of seriousness, instead, Stardust Memories offers both a means of comedic escape as well as one of cinematic art at its finest.

Key Scene:  As it stands right now the hot air balloon scene is the second most beautiful thing I have seen shot on black and white, only to that of Godzilla's death in the original version of the film.

Tragically there is no bluray available for this film at the moment, as such I suggest waiting patiently for its release because it will only make an already gorgeous film that much nicer.

I'll Go To Your Room, But You Are Going To Have To Seduce Me: Vicky Cristina Barcelona (2008)

I rarely go into Woody Allen films expecting something terrible, at the very worst one of his films will be wrought with existential wit and a swooning jazzy soundtrack.  What is nice with Allen's films are the times when he offers something so much more, as is the case with Annie Hall or Midnight In Paris.  While certainly not as prestigious as either of those films, Allen's 2008 offering Vicky Cristina Barcelona is quite enjoyable.  It is a cinematic vision that takes on new understandings of love and seduction, both in terms of romance and friendship.  However, as is often the case with any film by Allen the narrative delves into something much grander and more concerned with human existence, it is not blatantly obvious nor is it similar to every viewer, but despite the film involving a cast of incredibly attractive actors and being set in Spain it seems so common and accessible that you quickly forget that it was indeed directed by one of art house cinema's most beloved children.  When you place this in Allen's entire body of work it is nice to see him making his way back into Hollywood movies with big budgets, without losing his keen sense of contradicting the traditional images of said films.

Vicky Cristina Barcelona, like so many of Allen's films, is multi-faceted.  However, the main focus of the film is centered on the title characters the reserved Vicky (Rebecca Hall) who idolizes traditional love and conservative romantic values and the wiley Cristina (Scarlett Johansson) who seeks sporadic encounters and assumes romance to be a fleeting occurrence with little few positive outcomes.  Vicky, who is set to be wed to Doug (Chris Messina) an average but likeable guy, agrees to go on vacation with Cristina to Spain for one last celebration as friends before she become married.  It is during this lengthy vacation that the couple meets Juan Antonio (Javier Bardem) a local painter who is infamous for his troubled marriage that procured near fatal results.  Not one to mince words, Juan Antonio invites the girls to return with him to his hometown to sight-see and make love. Naturally, Vicky dismisses this offer in disgust, while Cristina swoons over ever one of Juan Antonio's words.  Despite her demands against engaging in affairs with Juan Antonio, Cristina's demands win out and the trio takes a dangerous airplane ride to Juan Antonio's hometown.  At this point in the narrative things become incredibly convoluted as Vicky accidentally falls for Juan Antonio in Cristina's absence.  Realizing her mistake after Doug surprises her with a visit, Vicky detaches herself from Juan Antonio who has now taken a keen liking to Cristina.  As Cristina and Juan Antonio's relationship evolves, another woman enters the picture Maria Elena (Penelope Cruz) Juan Antonio's ex-wife for which he still has strong feelings.  Their relationship evolves into some artistically inspired threesome, while Vicky comes to discover her own love for Doug.  Ultimately, and explosively the film ends with both women finding themselves at the same place as the story began, however, this time they have accepted their ways as just, agreeing that their behaviors, while not suitable for everyone are perfectly acceptable as longs as they work for them.

I can say with certainty that Vicky Cristina Barcelona is Allen's most artistic work.  Sure, he has dabbled in expressionism and surrealism throughout his career, but much to my surprise the melodrama that is Vicky Cristina Barcelona proves to be his most visually appealing.  Perhaps this is because Allen's film is so clearly inspired by Spanish architecture.  As the repeated images of Gaudi's work show, Allen is preoccupied with the unusual structures of the world that still appear to work.  If one reflects on Midnight In Paris is is obvious that he is influenced by the work of French authors in the film, so it is no surprise that Vicky Cristina Barcelona borrows is narrative leanings from Spanish work.  Each character in the film is arguably a reference back to the zany and winding work of Gaudi that still manages to stand without trouble.  Vicky, while the most conservative character in the film, has her own crevices and secrets that would seem to cause her inevitable falter, but despite this she manages to hold to her own steadfastly and independently.  Even Cristina, who appears to flourish off codependency, actually finds herself most fruitful when alone, although she finds out quite quickly that self-motivation is incredibly difficult when attempting to engage in artistic endeavors.  Even Juan Antonio, who appears completely independent, displays twists and bumps that influence his being and despite thinking he has it made when engaged in a polygamist relationship come to understand that his life is solely involved on his own self perseverance.  I would argue that Allen's ability to depict the tough yet resilient natures of human existence, on the backdrop of Guadi's work are precisely what make this his most artistic film to date.  Of course, I could be reading way into the film, but I doubt Allen would mind that at all.

Vicky Cristina Barcelona is quite easily one of the best bluray films I have seen to date.  I would encourage purchasing a copy if you are a fan of Woody Allen films, but at the very least rent the film, it is well worth your time to watch.

J. Alfred Prufrock Is Like My Mantra: Midnight In Paris (2011)

Prior to viewing Midnight In Paris I was on the verge of discrediting the contemporary works of Woody Allen.  While he is certainly a comedic master and a fine filmmaker, I was beginning to believe that his films post 2000 were nothing more than increasingly senile diatribes that egregiously missed their mark.  This belief stood fast until I was about twenty or so minutes into Midnight In Paris and realized that Woody Allen was offering up something very intimate and sentimental that was artistically poignant while still adhering to the personal existentialism so key to classic Woody Allen films.  What this film offers is a bittersweet reflection by the aging director on both the beauty and tragedy of nostalgia and how such longing for the past only causes individuals to ignore their own present.  This ignorance towards the present is precisely what Allen's film focuses on, particularly as it relates to a person who finds himself becoming increasingly distant from his fiance and her peers.  Instead of focusing on the woes of aging, Allen creates an all-encompassing study of a often asked question.  That question being "Do I Belong Here?," and as Allen shows, through his film, the answer is rarely ever a simple one.

Midnight in Paris places it primary focus on Gil (Owen Wilson) a successful, but jaded, Hollywood screenwriter who has decided to pursue penning his own novel about a person who owns a nostalgia shop.  Gil is joined by his disapproving fiance Inez (Rachel McAdams) who dismisses Gil's ponderings in favor of wooing over her friends husband Paul (Michael Sheen).  While attempting to find inclusion within his wife's group of friends Gil realizes he is unwanted and takes up a tipsy trip through the streets of Paris.  While stopping to take a breather and recalculate his route home, Gil is approached by a twenties era car whose occupants demand he join them.  Reluctantly, Gil gets into the car to find people matching the cars look in their 1920's wardrobe and speech.  Through passing conversation, Gil realizes that he is in a car with F. Scott Fitzgerald (Tom Hiddleston) and his wife Zelda (Alison Pill).  Bewildered Gil begins to verify whether or not he is truly residing in the world of 1920's Paris.  He eventually runs into Ernest Hemingway (Corey Stoll), Gertrude Stein (Kathy Bates), Salvador Dali (Adrien Brody), Pablo Picasso (Marcial Di Fonzo Bo) and others, even taking a moment to suggest a plot for a film to Luis Bunuel (Adrien de Van), which film buffs will recognize as The Exterminating Angel.  Through all this, Gil meets a woman named Adriana (Marion Cotillard) who he falls for instantly.  However, each morning Gil awakes to his real world in the present day seeking only to return to the Paris of the 1920's, while ignoring his crumbling engagement and the rather blatant infidelity of his wife.  Spurred on by the music of Cole Porter and the discovery of Adriana's journal in the present day, which mentions his exact words from a conversation the two shared the night before, Gil sets out to understand his own attachment to this other world of the past.  On one particular night, Gil follows Adriana on her own trip to France at the turn of the 19th century in which Adriana insists they stay.  It is only now that Gil realizes the flaws of his own nostalgic and illogical attachments to a time gone by and upon explaining his realization to Adriana, Gil returns to his time to end things with his fiance and wander the streets of Paris.  This ability to disconnect from the seemingly inextricable ties of nostalgia allow for Gil to meet a woman on the streets of Paris thus ending the film with the two of them walking the streets of Paris in a poetic and sweet closing shot.

I mentioned the sentimentality of this film in the opening sentences of this review.  I find it rather notable coming from a director like Woody Allen whose staunch pessimism has always found its way into his movies in the past.  Whether it be Annie Hall or Bananas Allen's films remind viewers that reality usually lets us down, and that all does not end well.  However, Midnight In Paris does not do these things, in fact, it does the opposite.  In this film the guy gets the girl, all be it a girl who appears only momentarily throughout the film and is not the one viewers expect.   More importantly, however, the character matures.  In all of the other Allen films I can recall, Allen's characters, often played by the director himself, never advance and often stick to their old ways arguing that putting themselves on the line would only prove hazardous.  In Midnight In Paris this is not the case, Gil absolutely puts himself out in the open for change.  After desperate flailing and a rather harsh taste of reality, Gil accepts his own place in society and advances forward as opposed to staying stagnantly in the present, an absolutely mature approach to narrative from Woody Allen.  Perhaps it is Allen's late age or love for old school movies, but if it were not for the occasional Freud inspired joke I would have had trouble placing this as a Woody Allen film and thought it more of a film Wes Anderson might make twenty years from now.  Regardless, Midnight In Paris is a sobering look at aging and the past and is a promising reminder of how truly prolific of a filmmaker Woody Allen can be, hopefully, we will see many more films of this nature from the director in the years to come.

This is an absolutely gorgeous film and one of the best of the year.  It is still making its way through the smaller theaters and there is no reason that you should not make it a goal of yours to see it before the New Year.  More importantly, remember, when in doubt, it is all a rhinoceros.

Top Ten Thursdays: Best Picture Winners

The Oscar winner for best picture is often controversial and always leaves room for debate.  It is certain that many films that have received the award did not by any means deserve, the most notable example being Chicago.  Regardless, I have decided to offer up my ten favorites from all the winners since the Academy Awards began in the 1920's.  They are by no means my favorite films from any given year, but they are all great pieces of cinema in there own right.

10.All Quiet on the Western Front (1929)

One of the quintessential war films, this is a sobering vision of the inhumanity of warfare at a time when making such a film assured becoming a pariah.

9. No Country for Old Men (2007)

 A bleak film about a psychotic killer that is brilliantly suspenseful, No Country for Old Men was not my favorite film of the year, but it is certainly much better than many of its contemporaries.

8. Schindler's List (1993)

One of the best Holocaust films to date, Schindler's list is a difficult film to watch and one that legitimized Spielberg as a respected director.





  
7. The King's Speech (2010)

The King's Speech is the most recent Oscar-winner.  I found it to be a great film that is by all definitions perfect.  The acting, cinematography, and music all coexist in perfect harmony.  It is a lesson in period piece filmmaking.

 

6. Rain Man (1988)

Rain Man cemented both Dustin Hoffman and Tom Cruise as Hollywood players.  The film itself is well shot and seems also transcendent of a decade with a large amount of terrible movies.

5. On The Waterfront (1954)

Marlon Brando's "I coulda been a contender speech" will break your heart.

4. The Godfather (1972)

Brando is so good in fact that his picture appears twice in this top ten list, although to be fair it is all about Al Pacino is this classic.  I also have a review of this film worth checking out

3. American Beauty (1999)

Perhaps the most anti-consumerist film to ever win best picture, American Beauty shows the darkest depths of suburbia and leaves no possibility for redemption.

2. Annie Hall (1977)

This existentialist manifesto and independent woman fashion statement is Woody Allen at this finest.  It really makes me wish I grew up under a roller coaster.







1. Casablanca (1943)

Propaganda has never, and probably will never look this good again.  Next to Breathless Bogart and Bergman provide cinema with their most memorable and iconic couple

Honorable Mention

The Bridge on the River Kwai (1957)
Midnight Cowboy (1969)
Amadeus (1984)
The Hurt Locker (2009)

I'm Anxious To Find Out Where Insanity Ends And Evil Begins: Shadows and Fog (1991)

Woody Allen is a craftsmen in the world of comedy, delicately composing films that seriously deal with existential ennui in the most absurd of ways.  His 1991 homage to German Expressionism is certainly an example of this from its shadowy cinematography to its narrative, which is irrevocably preoccupied with death.  The film has a few laughs, more than its share of philosophical pondering and a cast of Hollywood's most respected outsiders.  It has, like so many of Allen's films, the perfect blend of artistic distance and mainstream accessibility making it a film that is easily enjoyed by a multitude of viewers.  It is one of Allen's lesser known works, but certainly one of his best to date.

The film consists of multiple interconnected stories, each of which relates to a local killer strangling innocent bystanders.  In classic Allen fashion the film centers around a man named Kleinman, played by Woody Allen.  He, against his own discretion, is a member of a vigilante group set out to catch and kill the murderer, and as such has been summoned to find the killer.  Meanwhile, a traveling circus is in town, one that is quite reminiscent of Tod Browning's Freaks.  Two of the circus members are couple Irmy (Mia Farrow) and the Clown (John Malcovich) who after yet another argument have decided to spend the night apart, leading the confused Irmy to a brothel, led by a garrulous Madame (Kathy Bates).  This allows Irmy to meet fledgling academic Jack (John Cusack), who after one moment of lovemaking falls in love with her and seeks her companionship again.  However, at this point Irmy meets Kleinman and they unintentionally attempt to find the killer, which in the end leads to Kleinman briefly trapping him, with the help of the circus musician.  In the end of the film the characters arguably remain the same, Kleinman is alone, Irmy remains in an unhappy relationship and the killer goes on killing.  It is Allen style existentialism at its finest, no resolution...only despair.

One of the genius elements of this film is its commentary on the sensationalizing of murderers and crime sprees.  Each character shown is existing within their daily lives, the fact that a murderer roams the city is arbitrary to their actions, in fact many of them move through the night ignoring this issue.  It is a film concerned with minutia as opposed to grand ideas.  Yet it reminds viewers that the individual existence is truly arbitrary and can disappear instantaneously with little explanation or reason.  It also shows the futility of planning for, or studying, the unknown.  The films doctor, Kleinman and even the couple attempt to rationalize their actions only to discover that detailed planning only results in disappointment.  In the vein of Allen's auteurist tendencies it is a film that posits assuming the worse, because good things rarely happen, and if they do it is only briefly.

I will only recommend this film to die hard Woody Allen fans, or people who appreciate expressionist filmmaking.  If not it is just another film that has moments of laughter, and brief exposes into self-worth and the human existence.