Excruciating

Rating: 1/10 (11 February 2016)

I am not remotely a fan of Woody Allen, but that does not mean that he has not produced work that I have enjoyed. I am actually rather fond of his valentine to NYC, Manhattan. I also like Take the Money and Run, Everyone Says I Love You, Radio Days and Manhattan Murder Mystery. However, I can sit through Hannah and Her Sisters, Broadway Danny Rose and Bullets Over Broadway without cracking a smile and becoming frustrated over their inability to make me laugh. I bring this up because somehow I managed to miss Annie Hall for decades until recently and it is pretty much considered Allen's definitive "masterpiece".
Annie Hall (which is the film that brought Allen the shower of awards and accolades that he purportedly disdains) centers on the romantic relationship between neurotic Jewish comedian Alvy Singer and aspiring singer Annie Hall. Right out of the starting gate, it hits on pretty much every note that one can find in Allen's other films. Alvy is obviously a thinly veiled version of Allen himself and longtime partner/co-star Diane Keaton takes the title role. Allen has done this whole semi-autobiographical character bit to death and Annie Hall is the best argument for putting it to rest.
What passes for comedy is that Alvy and Annie are both neurotic in their own ways - both are seeing analysts. Supposedly their relationship brings out the best in them before they ultimately part and move on. Alas, right from the beginning we pretty much sense that their relationship is doomed because both of these people are entirely too stuck on themselves and feel everyone else needs to play a supporting role. In place of any winning personality, Allen yammers incessantly as Alvy, mixing in a variety of dated, unfunny Henny Youngman-esque one-liners that are meant to convince us that Alvy is a brilliant comedic talent. Keaton, voice pitched at high whine, also babbles uncontrollably. Both throw around big words, reference the names of great thinkers, philosophers and artists, and espouse "deep thoughts" in a failing desperate attempt to make them appear intelligent, contemporary and interesting. The end result is a caricature of what rubes imagine New Yorkers to be like - shallow, faux intellectual, selfish, B.S. artists completely stuck on themselves.
The sequence where Alvy and Annie first meet and he returns to her apartment for a glass of wine is nothing short of embarrassing. There is literally no chemistry between them, they appear to have nothing in common, and we have no understanding of why Annie asks him back (or why he goes). They stammer, hem and haw awkwardly around like both are in the presence of greatness, Alvy drops some line about not wanting to get undressed in front of other men at the tennis club, which is not funny, but Annie laughs like Richard Pryor was tickling her backside. Back at the apartment, they begin their non-stop train wreck of babble and even when their lips are moving, we now get dialogue bubbles to tell us what they are really thinking. No surprise that their inner thoughts are as vapid and dull as their spoken words.
News flash to Allen (and his admirers) - referencing well-known, respected philosophers and artists does not make you an intellectual or brilliant. The barrage of oral flatulence which is expelled chronically from the mouths of the two self-impressed lead characters goes from irritating to unendurable at the speed of light. Alvy and Annie are two people that if you met them at a party, you would get up and walk to the other side of the room to avoid them.
The film's most delusional sequence has Alvy and Annie waiting in line at a movie theater and Alvy becoming insanely unreasonable because he keeps eavesdropping on the conversation of the couple behind them, where the man is telling his date why he does not particularly like Fellini. This difference of opinion so offends Allen that he must (in a pseudo-fantasy moment) humiliate the man in public. The guy demands from Allen "Aren't I entitled to my opinion!" To which Allen tells him not if it is contradictory to Alvy's opinion and is spoken loudly in public. Then upon finding out that the guy teaches a university class on Marshall McLuhan, Allen pulls McLuhan out from behind a sign to excoriate the man for being an idiot and not knowing what he is talking about. The irony of this scene is that the behavior of the man being humiliated by Allen is a more palatable rendition of Allen himself. When Alvy/Allen has a conniption that the man was voicing his contrary opinion too loud in public, I felt like yelling at the screen "Pot meet kettle." Of course in the world of Annie Hall, Alvy can voice all of his opinions publicly at the top of his lungs and be a chronic nuisance, because he is the only one that matters - and if you disagree, you will pay the price.
I find nothing funny, romantic or charming about this film. It reinforces completely misguided stereotypes about New Yorkers. Further I don't find spending 2 hours listening to two charmless, selfish, self-absorbed bags of neuroses blow wind, especially insightful or pleasant. And before Allen's admirers start in: Yes, I understood it. Yes, I got it. Yes, I like NYC very much. Yes, I like comedies. I just don't like Annie Hall at all.