(Note: Over 500 of my movie reviews are now available in my book "Cut to the Chaise Lounge or I Can't Believe I Swallowed the Remote!" Get it at Amazon.)
Woody Allen courts Julia Roberts. (I wonder if Woody writes his own dialogue these days or just chalks it in and improvises. Maybe he gives a signal to the other actor(s) that it's their turn.) Yes, I am eating my heart out, but believe it or not–and I swear this is true and Julia Roberts herself will vouch for this–she was once courted by an orangutang. True story. You could look it up. It was a PBS special. I'm serious. You think I could make up something like this? She even held a baby orangutang in her arms and he...well, let's just say he wasn't wearing a diaper. I kid you not.
Anyway, this is a kind of satirical take off on Broadway musicals, but half on the square. It features a lot of show tunes and dance numbers, some beautifully choreographed. Goldie sings, Alan Alda sings, Julia sings and of course Woody sings. (Drew is dubbed, I understand). Ed Norton also sings, but the difference is, he's actually good. Goldie Hawn is the mom, Woody is her ex and Alan Alda is her current. They are all rich and privileged and spend their time in places like New York and Paris and Venice. Goldie is a flaming, bleeding heart liberal who thinks that prisons ought to have a cuisine at least, and Alda is an establishment lawyer and doctrinaire liberal. His son consequently devours the National Review and is a member of the National Rifle Association, and thinks that welfare mothers ought to get a job, etc. Woody Allen is Woody Allen of course. I haven't seen one of his films in decades, but watching him put the moves on Julia brings back memories. You almost believe it. In fact, you DO believe it. And lament.
Tim Roth plays an ex-con, just released from prison, invited to a family dinner by Goldie. (Extended family dinners involving kids and grandparents and eccentric relatives stirred by light-hearted family politics are a staple of the Woody Allen canon, as I recall.) Roth's "animal" magnetism, and his "interesting" kiss entice Drew away from her intended (at least temporarily). The story is narrated by Woody and Goldie's daughter (Natalie Portman, I presume), who finds herself falling in and out of puppy love with the regularity of the rising sun. Everything is played as a light satire of the intended audience, a technique perfected by Oscar Wilde in his play, The Importance of Being Earnest over a century ago. In a sense Woody Allen's effort amounts to a gentle massage of psyche of the New York liberal establishment.
Some highlights: The Marx Brothers song and dance number done en francaise near the Seine in Paris allowing Woody to do a fine Groucho impersonation; Drew's peach satin dress; Julia jogging in Venice; the intensive care unit choreography; mannequins coming to life in song and dance..
All in all, there's some cute fun had with Broadway show traditions, people breaking into song at odd moments, mostly standards from the pre-rock and roll era, e.g., "My Baby Just Cares for Me," "Making Whoopie," (yes, that is where Whoopie Goldberg got her moniker), and the beautiful "I'm Through with Love," (sung not badly by Goldie Hawn), a few good gags, a cute cast--enough of interest to divert one after an afternoon of hard-core shopping at Neiman-Marcus and Sak's Fifth Avenue.
Woody Allen courts Julia Roberts. (I wonder if Woody writes his own dialogue these days or just chalks it in and improvises. Maybe he gives a signal to the other actor(s) that it's their turn.) Yes, I am eating my heart out, but believe it or not–and I swear this is true and Julia Roberts herself will vouch for this–she was once courted by an orangutang. True story. You could look it up. It was a PBS special. I'm serious. You think I could make up something like this? She even held a baby orangutang in her arms and he...well, let's just say he wasn't wearing a diaper. I kid you not.
Anyway, this is a kind of satirical take off on Broadway musicals, but half on the square. It features a lot of show tunes and dance numbers, some beautifully choreographed. Goldie sings, Alan Alda sings, Julia sings and of course Woody sings. (Drew is dubbed, I understand). Ed Norton also sings, but the difference is, he's actually good. Goldie Hawn is the mom, Woody is her ex and Alan Alda is her current. They are all rich and privileged and spend their time in places like New York and Paris and Venice. Goldie is a flaming, bleeding heart liberal who thinks that prisons ought to have a cuisine at least, and Alda is an establishment lawyer and doctrinaire liberal. His son consequently devours the National Review and is a member of the National Rifle Association, and thinks that welfare mothers ought to get a job, etc. Woody Allen is Woody Allen of course. I haven't seen one of his films in decades, but watching him put the moves on Julia brings back memories. You almost believe it. In fact, you DO believe it. And lament.
Tim Roth plays an ex-con, just released from prison, invited to a family dinner by Goldie. (Extended family dinners involving kids and grandparents and eccentric relatives stirred by light-hearted family politics are a staple of the Woody Allen canon, as I recall.) Roth's "animal" magnetism, and his "interesting" kiss entice Drew away from her intended (at least temporarily). The story is narrated by Woody and Goldie's daughter (Natalie Portman, I presume), who finds herself falling in and out of puppy love with the regularity of the rising sun. Everything is played as a light satire of the intended audience, a technique perfected by Oscar Wilde in his play, The Importance of Being Earnest over a century ago. In a sense Woody Allen's effort amounts to a gentle massage of psyche of the New York liberal establishment.
Some highlights: The Marx Brothers song and dance number done en francaise near the Seine in Paris allowing Woody to do a fine Groucho impersonation; Drew's peach satin dress; Julia jogging in Venice; the intensive care unit choreography; mannequins coming to life in song and dance..
All in all, there's some cute fun had with Broadway show traditions, people breaking into song at odd moments, mostly standards from the pre-rock and roll era, e.g., "My Baby Just Cares for Me," "Making Whoopie," (yes, that is where Whoopie Goldberg got her moniker), and the beautiful "I'm Through with Love," (sung not badly by Goldie Hawn), a few good gags, a cute cast--enough of interest to divert one after an afternoon of hard-core shopping at Neiman-Marcus and Sak's Fifth Avenue.