Man, Oh Man(hattan)

Every now and then, I give another classic film by Woody Allen a try. Every time, I find that I vastly prefer his later films -- which he only wrote and directed, rather than acted in -- but when enough time passes, I always seem to be willing to roll the dice again.

This time, I checked out his famous 1979 black-and-white film, Manhattan. It's a simple romantic comedy (with, when you watch now with knowledge of Allen's subsequent years, maybe a bit of wish fulfillment in it?) about a 40-year-old writer dating a 17-year-old girl, who then falls in love with the mistress of his friend (an unhappily married man).

The tone, and even some of the specific scenes, are very much consistent with his Oscar winner, Annie Hall. Furthering this movie's impression of being an unofficial sequel is the fact that once again, the main screen couple is Allen himself and Diane Keaton.

It's easy to see why Woody Allen kept going back to Diane Keaton to appear in his films. She's an effortlessly natural persona in this movie. You certainly feel a character there, particularly in the first act of the film, where she twists the figurative knife by skewering all kinds of art and philosophy liked by Allen's character. But she also simply doesn't feel like she's acting, in a good way.

Equally compelling is the younger love interest, played by Mariel Hemingway. She received one of only two Academy Award nominations for the film (the other was for its screenplay). She very carefully walks a line that allows her character to come off as an innocent teenager, while still appearing more worldly and more mature... enough to make the romance between her and Allen not instantly, immediately creepy. (Which, let's face it, it totally is.)

But then there's the part that brings down all these classic Allen movies in my mind, the performance of Woody Allen himself. It always amazes me that, for a director who clearly wants to cast naturalistic actors who can converse as though their were improvising, he always cast himself in the lead role. Allen's acting is anything but natural. He always seems to be playing a character, even if you occasionally get the whiff that he might actually be this neurotic and obnoxious in real life. And when he keeps casting himself across from these winning actresses, you're always left knowing what his character sees in them, and mystified about what they would see in him.

Meryl Streep is especially funny in a smaller role as Allen's ex-wife, a woman writing a tell-all book about the relationship that drove her to the realization she was a lesbian. You might expect that a 30-year-old movie would use this plot element to cram in a few tasteless and dated homosexual jokes, but thankfully the movie seemed to be ahead of its time in this regard. Streep herself is quite funny in this truly dry role.

But overall, I was left with the impression of a movie funnier on the page than in its actual execution. I'll bump the score a notch in deference to some very eye-catching cinematography that makes great use of the black-and-white film, but overall, I'd still only call it a C-. A fan of other early Woody Allen would be sure to love it; it's unlikely to win over anyone else.