Film Diary: Annie Hall (Woody Allen, 1977)

[enitharmon]

I'm two weeks late recording this. Hmm. Slapped wrists.

Anyway, I'm never able to make up my mind about Woody Allen. I find his perpetually neurotic trademark figure irritating. Some of his films just make me squirm. All the same, I keep returning over and over again to Hannah and Her Sisters and to Annie Hall, and possibly Manhattan, and I'm never quite sure why. It's a combination of their quirkiness and the sense that somewhere in there there's a verey profound message about life and the way people interact, particularly margins-of-the-crowd people like me who yearn to be let in. Hey, that might be it!