Written by Woody Allen and Marshall Brickman; Directed by Woody Allen; Cinematography by Gordon Willis; Edited by Wendy Greene Bricmont and Ralph Rosenblum; Complete Credits. 93 min. 1977.
Looking through my archives, I see I brought up Annie Hall on a previous occasion to discuss POV, specifically, the interesting way the movie continually breaks the fourth wall. Whether he’s directly addressing the viewers as the audience of his stand-up comedy routine or just shooting the camera a conspiratorial look, Alvy Singer (Woody Allen), neurotic narcissist par excellence, expects us to be on his side. When his girlfriend Annie (Diane Keaton) makes an obvious Freudian slip and then emphatically denies it, Alvy turns to us and says, “I know you heard it.”
Now, this is a very tricky device to pull off. It’s ultra-self-conscious and extremely artificial since it disrupts the realistic illusion. Yet there are several reasons why it’s not only appropriate to the context, but gives the film a decided advantage: a) it suits Alvy’s egocentricism - the whole world revolves around him, so acting as though an audience is always watching him is perfectly in character; b) strictly on the level of plot, Alvy is a stand-up comic, so the ever-present audience establishes the movie as a kind of extended monologue; c) it adds dimension to a straightforward, completely familiar story: the ups and downs of a romantic relationship.
Breaking the fourth wall in addition to other fantastic devices – the animation skit, the split-screen scenes, characters literally walking into memories and interacting with the people - suits Alvy’s “over-active imagination.” These devices are a creative way of underlining various points Alvy tries to make. For example, when he eats dinner with Annie’s super-WASP family in all its restrained glory, he does more than mentally compare it with his own noisy Jewish tribe – the screen splits and we see them side-by side. Taking the device even further, Annie’s mother addresses Alvy’s parents from the other side of the screen.
On top of all this, the film’s structure is non-linear, almost random. We go back and forth according to Alvy’s impulses, without much regard to the importance of natural sequence of events. This puts the film in stark opposition to romantic comedies, where the sequence of events is almost always paramount. We see Alvy and Annie hook-up, break-up, get back together, declare their love and their frustration, but in a jumbled order. Annie Hall is not concerned with whether Alvy and Annie will live happily ever after, but with the various moments – good and bad – that made up their relationship.
In that respect, however, the movie is perfectly realistic. It’s mostly scenes of people sitting around talking, arguing, joking – like in real life. There aren’t elaborate plot devices or set pieces. Moreover, Allen and Brickman’s naturalistic dialogue keeps the movie from falling into the necessity of sit-com-style punning in order to keep the momentum going. What’s more, we don’t watch the characters “learn and grow” and then become “worthy of love.” What they’re worthy of is almost beside the point: they live, they love, they screw up – it’s a fact of life. Finally, given that they avoid most of the hallmarks of romantic-comedy throughout the film, they are not obligated to provide the typical “happy” ending. I don’t even think it can be considered bittersweet since it essentially ends with a joke – a poignant one, it’s true - but a joke nonetheless. The joke isn’t a moral on how to live or love, but a probable explanation as to why we bother to begin with. It’s not presented as a revelation, but as a logical conclusion.
Next week… It Happened One Night, continuing the romantic-comedy discussion.
Looking through my archives, I see I brought up Annie Hall on a previous occasion to discuss POV, specifically, the interesting way the movie continually breaks the fourth wall. Whether he’s directly addressing the viewers as the audience of his stand-up comedy routine or just shooting the camera a conspiratorial look, Alvy Singer (Woody Allen), neurotic narcissist par excellence, expects us to be on his side. When his girlfriend Annie (Diane Keaton) makes an obvious Freudian slip and then emphatically denies it, Alvy turns to us and says, “I know you heard it.”
Now, this is a very tricky device to pull off. It’s ultra-self-conscious and extremely artificial since it disrupts the realistic illusion. Yet there are several reasons why it’s not only appropriate to the context, but gives the film a decided advantage: a) it suits Alvy’s egocentricism - the whole world revolves around him, so acting as though an audience is always watching him is perfectly in character; b) strictly on the level of plot, Alvy is a stand-up comic, so the ever-present audience establishes the movie as a kind of extended monologue; c) it adds dimension to a straightforward, completely familiar story: the ups and downs of a romantic relationship.
Breaking the fourth wall in addition to other fantastic devices – the animation skit, the split-screen scenes, characters literally walking into memories and interacting with the people - suits Alvy’s “over-active imagination.” These devices are a creative way of underlining various points Alvy tries to make. For example, when he eats dinner with Annie’s super-WASP family in all its restrained glory, he does more than mentally compare it with his own noisy Jewish tribe – the screen splits and we see them side-by side. Taking the device even further, Annie’s mother addresses Alvy’s parents from the other side of the screen.
On top of all this, the film’s structure is non-linear, almost random. We go back and forth according to Alvy’s impulses, without much regard to the importance of natural sequence of events. This puts the film in stark opposition to romantic comedies, where the sequence of events is almost always paramount. We see Alvy and Annie hook-up, break-up, get back together, declare their love and their frustration, but in a jumbled order. Annie Hall is not concerned with whether Alvy and Annie will live happily ever after, but with the various moments – good and bad – that made up their relationship.
In that respect, however, the movie is perfectly realistic. It’s mostly scenes of people sitting around talking, arguing, joking – like in real life. There aren’t elaborate plot devices or set pieces. Moreover, Allen and Brickman’s naturalistic dialogue keeps the movie from falling into the necessity of sit-com-style punning in order to keep the momentum going. What’s more, we don’t watch the characters “learn and grow” and then become “worthy of love.” What they’re worthy of is almost beside the point: they live, they love, they screw up – it’s a fact of life. Finally, given that they avoid most of the hallmarks of romantic-comedy throughout the film, they are not obligated to provide the typical “happy” ending. I don’t even think it can be considered bittersweet since it essentially ends with a joke – a poignant one, it’s true - but a joke nonetheless. The joke isn’t a moral on how to live or love, but a probable explanation as to why we bother to begin with. It’s not presented as a revelation, but as a logical conclusion.
Next week… It Happened One Night, continuing the romantic-comedy discussion.
2 comments:
Might be interesting some day to look at how Woody took those techniques and used them to a lesser extent in later movies, e.g. the scene in Crimes and Misdemeanors where Judah witnesses a family meal from the past. Nice wee post though.
I was actually going to make a little side note about that scene from Crimes and Misdemeanors, but I decided not to digress. You're right that it's a good idea for a future post.
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