I guess we keep going' through it because, uh, most of us...need the eggs

Rating: 10/10 (10 August 2015)

Annie Hall is one of those rare romantic comedies that manages to hit the exact note with its tone throughout and it starts with Allen and Brickman's Oscar winning screenplay. It brims with topical 70s references and the biting wit of the former stand up comedian's material, which makes for many laughs, but even more importantly it's a stunningly authentic and wistful insight into the failed relationship of Alvy Singer and Annie Hall. The film makes no mistake telling you this from the start; Alvy begins with that opening monologue and you are left trying to figure out exactly the reason for this unhappy ending. It's non-linearity at its best and edited with brutal honesty; Alvy wants Annie to experience the wonders of adult education, which cuts to a while later, a jealous Alvy now bitterly against the idea when another man turns up.
Perhaps Allen wanted the main focus of the film to be from Allen's perspective, lamenting the spotlight of the couple's relationship. There's signs of that too. Alvy at heart is just a boy who discovered nihilism a little early, and somehow he never grows out of that mindset , giving into his sexual curiosity and kissing his classmate. Allen portrays the extents of this short neurotic comedian with such honesty - sometimes petty, from his youth pessimistic, always cynical. He's cultured to a degree - there's that famous scene where he drags a theatre-goer criticising Fellini and McLuhan and produces the latter from behind a sign, with an exasperated air of authority. Yet he also zones out at the complex musings on Bob Dylan from a Rolling Stone reporter (Shelley Duvall), and feels dismissive of the high aiming Allison. There's disdain for California show biz that he often voices ("That's because they don't throw their garbage away, they turn it into television shows"). That's displayed by Willis in the contrast between the golden dazzle of the party and the muted greys of New York, ever gloomy like Alvy.
It begs the question exactly what Alvy sees in the free spirited and scatterbrained Annie Hall, played to perfection by Diane Keaton (and impeccably dressed too). There's wonderful little mannerisms that add to the persona, no better than the initial meeting where she stumbles over her words, shakes her head playfully when prompted of her weekend availability, and later struggles to hold in her laughter retelling a family story, which is ordinary made wonderful by Keaton. Their chemistry is apparent from the start and is most evident in the first post-breakup scene where Alvy is called over in the midst of another one night stand to kill a spider. That shockingly real moment where Annie breaks down and confesses that she misses him is perfect. And Alvy reacts how at first? By cracking a joke of course, after his furiously awkawrd slaying of the spider.
The non-linearity and the constant shifting of the tone and the dynamics of the relationship are aided by the impressive number of Allen's visual techniques. There's the yellow subtitles exposing both of the pair's nervous inhibitions that encapsulates their opposing perspectives and manages to be both sincere and humorous. Later the voice-over on the plane does the same, in a more wistful way near breakup. There's the attempts from Alvy to confront and complain about his relationship to random passer-bys, at times more honest than he is with his doctor. It's genuine; the audience can empathise with his plight. And there's the long roving takes that are pervasive throughout the relationship; sustaining real time emotions and tensions and allowing the pair to shine. By the end of the film, we know exactly why the pair broke up in the first place.
What else are we supposed to wish for than that Hollywood ending that Alvy acknowledges as his first play, and thus, his first real desire for an unattainable woman? He painstakingly tries to recreate the lobster fiasco, and in doing so cracks a joke and creates even more awkwardness. But that's Alvy. His own brand of humour is his self defence, and in this miserable world, even finding a brief window of perfection with Annie, cannot change. Even more, he's self-loathing, jealous, and insecure, like a lot of us. Annie Hall might have become a complicated murder mystery, or in the hands of another director or writer, end on that glistening kiss under the bridge. Thank god it didn't.