Woody Allen's latest movie, YOU WILL MEET A TALL DARK STRANGER is filled with good bits, fine moments of acting and wonderful cinematography. The story, an off-the-point series of musing about how truth does not make you happy, but hope and delusion do, might have been handled as more than a series of vignettes, linked by the people surrounding a divorced couple played by Gemma Jones and Anthony Hopkins, but it is not. As a result, what might have been a crackling nasty satire is more of a murky, drizzly minor-key tragedy, as everyone finds themselves miserable except for the crazy lady.
Despite this, and despite the fact that this movie could have been set any place without any effect on the performances, there are some wonderful scenes and moments. Hopkins, shorn of tics and erratically maintained accents, gives a simple, wonderful performance, perhaps his best in years, and Naomi Watts and Antonio Banderas play their scenes where they talk past each other very well. Only Josh Brolin seems to be miscast or misdirected -- however that may simply due to the fact that I have never really warmed to him as a performer, so that might be just me.
But the scenes don't really add up to much of anything. I begin to suspect that Woody Allen has reached that stage in his career when he has his skills fully under control and can tell any story he wishes to tell perfectly -- but has run out of stories that he wishes to tell, major points that he wishes to make, genres that he wishes to master. All that is left is to put together these meditations and hope that they add up to more than the sum of their parts.
Alas, despite many lovely parts, this one doesn't. I expect that, like me, most viewers will enjoy this movie and then, when they leave the theater, wish there was more.
Despite this, and despite the fact that this movie could have been set any place without any effect on the performances, there are some wonderful scenes and moments. Hopkins, shorn of tics and erratically maintained accents, gives a simple, wonderful performance, perhaps his best in years, and Naomi Watts and Antonio Banderas play their scenes where they talk past each other very well. Only Josh Brolin seems to be miscast or misdirected -- however that may simply due to the fact that I have never really warmed to him as a performer, so that might be just me.
But the scenes don't really add up to much of anything. I begin to suspect that Woody Allen has reached that stage in his career when he has his skills fully under control and can tell any story he wishes to tell perfectly -- but has run out of stories that he wishes to tell, major points that he wishes to make, genres that he wishes to master. All that is left is to put together these meditations and hope that they add up to more than the sum of their parts.
Alas, despite many lovely parts, this one doesn't. I expect that, like me, most viewers will enjoy this movie and then, when they leave the theater, wish there was more.