Book on Screen

Rating: 3/10 (16 August 2008)

Woody Allen has lost all conception of subtlety. He is a great writer, but a poor film maker in this case. This movie is a book on screen (in the sense of being a sort of book-on-tape). You are narrated almost every aspect of what should be visually shown. The point of a good movie is not to be told what is happening, it should be seen by the subtle nuances of an actor's performance. To add insult to injury, the narrator's voice is out-of-place and distracting; it recalls you constantly to your own position as a spectator, preventing you from becoming as entranced as you should be by the spectacular performance of an all-star cast. I have no doubt that some pseudo-intellectual will criticize this critique by claiming it ignores the depth or concepts explored by the film, concepts which I wholly admit are intriguing and worth the time spent to explore, but my criticism is not directed to the ideas surveyed. I do not hesitate to say that the script must read as an insightful reflection of life and love by a man with obvious experience in both, but do not placate criticisms of this film based on some nostalgic respect for the old Woody Allen, whose previous movies have earned that respect of their own merit. Consider this independently and those rose-coloured contacts melt-away to reveal what is left a poor visual adaptation of a brilliant script.