My how the semi-mighty have fallen. The Woody Allen stable of Diane Keaton, Diane Wiest, and Mia Farrow are replaced by Tea Leone, Debra Messing and . . . wait for it . . . Tiffany-Amber-Thiessen. Worse, the 67 year old Allen still insists on casting himself as a love interest (this time, with 36 year old Leoni). The courtship is ridiculous and the images revolting.
Worse, the film lacks one funny premise, line or sketch. Allen plays Allen, arms waving and neuroses on all cylinders. But oh does he have some subversive things to say about filmmaking.
Allen is directing a $60 million picture. He he he. And he’s stricken by psychosomatic blindness. Te he he. But he makes the film anyway, and in the process, reunites with his ex-wife. And again, they kiss (just vile – you’re praying his teeth do not fall out). And guess what? In the end, the French love the film.
Har har har.
Nyuk nyuk nyuk.
It is the worst film of 2002, certainly one of Allen’s most terrible and perhaps the shittiest film of the millennium. In the face of Hollywood Ending, saying “Well, Allen directed Annie Hall and Hannah and Her Sisters,” is like saying “Well, Hitler built the Autobahn.”