home
***
CD-ROM
|
disk
|
FTP
|
other
***
search
/
TIME: Almanac 1990
/
1990 Time Magazine Compact Almanac, The (1991)(Time).iso
/
time
/
101689
/
10168900.083
< prev
next >
Wrap
Text File
|
1990-09-19
|
3KB
|
61 lines
CINEMA, Page 82Postscript to the '80sBy Richard Schickel
CRIMES AND MISDEMEANORS
Directed and Written by Woody Allen
Judah Rosenthal (Martin Landau) is possessed by a primal
memory: a rabbi instructing the boy Judah that the eye of God is
all seeing; no crime ever escapes it. Now successful and middle
aged, Judah self-deprecatingly suggests to the audience at a
testimonial dinner on his behalf that perhaps he became an
ophthalmologist because he is haunted by that recollection.
Seeing is also a subject that Cliff Stern (Woody Allen) takes
seriously. A documentary filmmaker, he is driven not by God but by
the demands of an unyielding conscience to make his camera -- his
eye -- bear witness to the inequities of his careless time.
Cliff's only connection to Judah -- until the concluding
sequence of this thematically unified but somewhat bifurcated movie
-- is through Ben, another rabbi (Sam Waterston), who is one of
Cliff's brothers-in-law. The rabbi is Judah's patient, and his eye
trouble is quite literal; by the end of the movie he has gone
blind. But this blindness is also symbolic. By visiting this
affliction on the only character in his movie who has remained
close to God, Allen is suggesting that if the Deity himself is not
dead, then he must be suffering from severely impaired vision.
All the crimes and misdemeanors Allen records in this film go
not merely unpunished; they are generously rewarded. Upstairs, on
the melodramatic story line, a hypocritical Judah gets away with
murder, arranging for the assassination of his mistress (Anjelica
Huston), who threatens to make their affair -- and his equally
shabby financial affairs -- public, thereby destroying his family,
wealth and reputation.
Downstairs, on the funny line, is Cliff's other brother-in-law
Lester, a sleek TV producer (played by Alan Alda in a gloriously
fashioned comic performance). He offers Cliff a sinecure: filming
a documentary that will make Lester look like a philosopher-king
among the pompous nitwits who produce prime-time TV. Cliff agrees,
but because he tries to turn Lester's story into a truthful expose,
the project collapses. Along the way he loses the woman he loves
(Mia Farrow), as well as a serious film to which he had been
profoundly committed.
This is the funny stuff? Yes, because Allen puts a deliberately
farcical spin on Cliff's frenzies. It is good showmanship, a way
of relieving the itchy ironies of Judah's discomfiting story. It
also rings with irony. If neither Judah's guilty musings on his own
crimes -- and he does exhibit a strong desire to be caught and
punished -- nor decent Cliff's frantic quest for some kind of
fulfillment can awaken heaven's sleeping eye, then what in this
world can? If Manhattan, coming at the end of the '70s, was Woody
Allen's comment on that decade's besetting sin, self-absorption,
then this is his concluding unscientific postscript on the
besetting sin of the '80s, greed. At times the joints in the
movie's carpentry are strained, at times the mood swings jarring.
But they stir us from our comfortable stupor and vivify a true,
moral, always acute and often hilarious meditation on the
psychological economy of the Reagan years.