A hotdog consists of rejected parts of a pig all thrown together and picked up off the butcher's floor. This is Woody Allen's hotdog. Many of the elements are borrowed from past films, like his fourth-wall-breaking first-person-narrating philosophy of life being meaningless and love being luck and everyone is dying and... all that stuff that was once entertaining when Woody Allen was younger, and funny.
His patented neurotic-Intellectual character is given to Larry David as a chess-instructing codger who marries a gorgeous twenty-one year old, Evan Rachel Wood. This entire concept is funnier than any line in the movie; not ha-ha but "Am I actually supposed to buy this" funny.
There are plenty of one-liners but nothing seems to matter: the characters all frolic stupidly before David so he can put them down. His monotone delivery of Allen's penned tirades are limp and lifeless (David even admits he's not an actor, so I guess he's not to blame).
Christians are seen as robots and everyone not from Manhattan are merely seeking their true selves as anti-Christian "heathens". Woody seems to be finished bagging on what and who he knows (New York and New York intellectuals); his sights are now set on those he never knew but thoroughly despises (anyone who hunts, fishes, or prays).
There are a few good moments of acting, like when Evan Rachel Wood's mother, played by Patricia Clarkson, is discussing photography - for an instant the dialog seems not written but actually spoken by a real human being; you know, like Woody's older films - the ones about people, not stereotypes.
Allen is becoming just like those he's against: close-minded and completely bias. And he's pushing the same envelope that's already been mailed.
We got it already, Woody. You can move on now.
His patented neurotic-Intellectual character is given to Larry David as a chess-instructing codger who marries a gorgeous twenty-one year old, Evan Rachel Wood. This entire concept is funnier than any line in the movie; not ha-ha but "Am I actually supposed to buy this" funny.
There are plenty of one-liners but nothing seems to matter: the characters all frolic stupidly before David so he can put them down. His monotone delivery of Allen's penned tirades are limp and lifeless (David even admits he's not an actor, so I guess he's not to blame).
Christians are seen as robots and everyone not from Manhattan are merely seeking their true selves as anti-Christian "heathens". Woody seems to be finished bagging on what and who he knows (New York and New York intellectuals); his sights are now set on those he never knew but thoroughly despises (anyone who hunts, fishes, or prays).
There are a few good moments of acting, like when Evan Rachel Wood's mother, played by Patricia Clarkson, is discussing photography - for an instant the dialog seems not written but actually spoken by a real human being; you know, like Woody's older films - the ones about people, not stereotypes.
Allen is becoming just like those he's against: close-minded and completely bias. And he's pushing the same envelope that's already been mailed.
We got it already, Woody. You can move on now.