- Mary (Diane Keaton) and Isaac (Woody Allen) in Allen’s 1979 film “Manhattan.”
8.5/10 stars
The whimsical neurosis of Woody Allen has always been curiously intriguing. I was first introduced to it in Annie Hall, a film that would come to pass as my first venture into the world viewed through Allen’s eyes—a deliberate and obtusely comedic world sprinkled with intelligent quip and impeccable comedic timing. Manhattan is a film made with much of the same vision, but achieves different results. In Allen’s world, characters are fascinated, perplexed and driven by intellect, art, love and mystery. Such a fascination is the plight of almost every character we encounter in Manhattan, and delightfully so. Encased in the glow of big city lights and the ceaseless pulse of New York City, four characters—two men and two women—live out their existences of curiosity, companionship and misunderstanding in a tale about nothing more than the strange and unexplainable realities of life itself. More specifically, Manhattan is commentary on an area of life in which we expend an immense amount of our emotional energy: relationships. The elusive nature of the ever-present song-and-dance in the world of companion seeking is frustratingly unpredictable. With this film, Allen explores such things with wit, comedic depth, emotion and fantastic insight.
Woody Allen plays Isaac, a down-and-out writer who possesses most of the same eccentricities that Allen himself harbors in real life. His character is infused with what Allen knows best—his canny and unique observations—both of which are reflections of his own distinctiveness. In the opening sequence of dialogue, Isaac sits at a café table with two friends and a seventeen year old love interest. He nonchalantly pulls a cigarette from his pocket and places it in his mouth, lights it, but doesn’t inhale. Inhaling gives you cancer, but leaving it dangling between your lips makes you seem unquestionably desirable. Such actions are a shining example of Allen’s comedic neurosis, and the film proceeds with much of the same. Shortly thereafter, Isaac is introduced to Mary (Diane Keaton), the mistress in an extramarital affair between herself and his friend, Yale (Michael Murphy). At first, Isaac seems irrevocably repulsed by her “pseudo-intellectualism.” But as time progresses, his interest in her deepens and a new attraction begins to consume his desires. A dilemma begins to take shape in Isaac’s world once his new found attraction to Mary takes form.
On one hand, he has Tracy. She is young, attractive, and peaks his intellectual curiosity… to a certain extent. What a great combination for a man approaching mid-life who’s seeking sexual validation in his later years. She is young and easily influenced, and Isaac finds this appealing. On the other hand, Mary possesses the experiences and maturity of adulthood. She’s an intellectual, too, but is much more relatable. After Tracy informs Isaac that she’s moving to London to pursue acting classes, he uses this as an excuse to go after Mary. The two of them develop a bond, one that becomes particularly close after Yale breaks off his connections with her in order to re-establish solidarity in his marriage. The film then begins to follow the interplay between the two—their conversations, desires, opinions and secrets are revealed through the transpiring of witty dialect and insightful observation. One day, Isaac returns to his apartment to find a distraught Mary. She informs him that she’s still in love with Yale, sending him into a state of shock that far overshadows any form of anger or frustration.
This scene depicts a situation that will strike a chord with anyone who, at one time or another, has experienced the final act in the disintegration of a relationship. Sometimes, despite our love and admiration for others, motives, reasons and justifications for change emerge. Sometimes, certain factors, either internal or external, cause us to flee. After it has ended, you find yourself seeking explanation for actions. But the fact is our reasons, desires and actions remain unexplainable. Mary had no idea why she was still in love with Yale. She possesses a substantive connection with Isaac, but felt she had to leave. On the other hand, Isaac desires Tracy for several reasons he can easily pinpoint, but the stimuli remain elusive. These are the existential questions that Allen’s film explores. In Manhattan, such is life, and so it goes. Isaac’s words to Tracy at the point of their breakup sums up such things perfectly:
“You’re a kid, you don’t know what love means, I don’t even know what it means. Nobody out there knows what the hell is going on.” –Isaac to Tracy
If I have one complaint about the film, it would be the excess of wit and cleverness in the dialogue. In the Woody Allen world, every third line is a punch line. As I was watching the film, I was reminded of a recent movie that made me feel similarly. Diablo Cody’s screenplay for Juno (2008) was very much the same way. Allen has many more skins on the wall, but Cody’s screenplay serves as a good recent comparison. I can’t help but wonder if people really are this clever during everyday discourse. After all, these are movies. Perhaps that makes it moot. Nevertheless, Allen’s screenplay is tremendously clever. It’s a joy to watch Keaton, Streep and himself execute it with such effortless authenticity. Manhattan is a good movie because it works on two distinct levels. One, it’s an observant and moving comedy. On the other hand, it’s a well-crafted commentary on the things in life that remain frustratingly mysterious. 8.5/10 stars.
