Woody's back?

When an important (albeit popular) critic makes a bold pronouncement about an important (albeit popular) artist, you've got to pay attention. Or not.

Though most of us stopped making excuses for Woody Allen's increasingly feeble movies long ago, every one of them is gets called his "best in years" by somebody who, for whatever reason, needs to believe that Small Time Crooks or a Deconstructing Harry has something important to say. These people are usually fools or liars or just willfully deluded.

Then along comes A.O. Scott, the big film cheese at the New York Times, and one who has notably not been taken in by Allen's recent films. Scott calls Allen's Match Point the director's "most satisfying film in more than a decade." As Scott describes it, Match Point is kind of like Crimes and Misdemeanors as written by Theodore Dreiser, only better. That would indeed be something.

Scott's reviews of Allen's films over the last few years have become sadder and sadder, as he is forced to acknowledge the schlockmeister his former idol has become. So does that mean we should trust Scott more than others on the subject because he has proven his credibility? Probably. Even so, I have my doubts.

The review starts like this:

Because Woody Allen's early films are about as funny as any ever made, it is often assumed that his temperament is essentially comic, which leads to all manner of disappointment and misunderstanding. Now and then, Mr. Allen tries to clear up the confusion, insisting, sometimes elegantly and sometimes a little too baldly, that his view of the world is essentially nihilistic. He has announced, in movie after movie, an absolute lack of faith in any ordering moral principle in the universe - and still, people think he's joking.

This is clear, clever, insightful and satisfying to read, but it sounds more like a reexamination of a body of work than the opening lines of a rave. If this movie were really a true return to form from the maker of some of the best films in American history (Annie Hall and Manhattan, at least, have ot be on anybody's list), wouldn't you expect more excitement about this particular film, rather than a mini-essay (however clever) on what people misunderstand about Allen's other films? While Scott goes on to celebrate Allen's emergence from a "long creative malaise," he does so in such a dispassionate way that it feels like he's trying to convince himself.

There's obviously one way to find out. Wait for DC to see the movie. He'll tell you the truth.