Friday, June 26, 2009

Movie review: Whatever Works

Woody hires Larry to play Woody.

By John P. Meyer

Right from its opening credits -- which are accompanied by a scratchy recording of Groucho singing Hello, I Must Be Going -- it's obvious that Woody Allen is reverting to a bygone personal filmmaking era with Whatever Works. The credits themselves employ the same plain jane, sans serif font familiar to longtime fans of the Woodman's work.

And our recognition of tried-and-true Allen filmmaking conventions just increases, as lead actor Larry David -- playing a character named Boris Yellnikoff -- suddenly turns from his street cafe conversation with friends and begins addressing the camera (and us filmgoers) directly. A la Annie Hall, which struck such a resonating note with Oscar voters back in 1977.

The setting itself demonstrates a return to the era of Allen's "early, funny" films: It's Manhattan (a la Manhattan), where neurotics are neurotics and only the most eccentric neurotics get to be Woody Allen protagonists. Boris Yellnikoff fits right in. Though his name may conjure up a vision of endless fields of wheat in a tragic Tolstoy tome, this Boris forsakes the steppes of Russia for the faux intelligentsia of his neighborhood clique. Yellnikoff styles himself a genius (in the field of string theory) and picks up pocket money by teaching kids how to lose ungracefully at chess. (His board-side manner leaves much to be desired.)

It soon becomes obvious that Woody has hired Larry to play Woody, as the Yellnikoff character is laden with traits familiar to Allen-inhabited protagonists of the '70s and '80s. Notable among these traits is the character's inability to come to terms with his own mortality: Boris wakes screaming in the wee hours, realizing (as if for the first time) that he must one day die. His wife at the time (Carolyn McCormick, as Jessica) tries to soothe him by noting that everyone is in the same boat. But Boris doesn't care about his crewmates; he's worried exclusively about Boris.

Dog walking as a profession. Only in New York. (I reckon.)

Following a tragic encounter with a shop canopy (which foils his suicide attempt), Boris finds himself limping, wifeless, and adrift on a sea of self-imposed, confrontational (though subliminally good-natured) discontent. It's in this mode that he stumbles (almost literally) upon Melodie St. Ann Celestine (girlish Evan Rachel Wood, acting the turnip truck fallout role with aplomb). The curmudgeonly Boris grudgingly allows the perky, dim-witted urchin to bunk in his garret-like apartment until she can collect her scatterbrained wits. Such as they are.

Thus a second familiar Woody Allen theme is introduced: the Inappropriately Young Girlfriend (ref. the aforementioned Manhattan. Not to mention real-life biographical events.) Boris makes much of telling his chums that it's strictly a temporary, platonic arrangement, but of course before long he's having trouble convincing even himself that this is the case.

The issue comes to a head when Melodie meets and goes out on a date with a young fellow named Perry (John Gallagher Jr.). She's been working as a dog walker (a uniquely Manhattan profession, one presumes) when she rounds the corner laden with struggling leashes and plows into Perry -- who has only a single pooch, but makes up for it with an abundance of charm and a genuine interest in the dogwalker.

"You're a mental amoeba. Of course I'll marry you."

Melodie dresses her best (which ends up equating to "sluttiest") in preparation for the date, leading Boris to quip: "That's a pretty aggressive outfit. You looking to wind up in an abortion clinic?" When she returns home half soused and fully disenchanted with the New York singles scene, Boris can't help but reveal a certain amount of satisfaction.

Ask not for whom the wedding bells toll, because by now you'll have figured it out. The surprisingly happy couple soon receive a surprise visit from Melodie's mom, Marietta (Patricia Clarkson, stealing whatever show she's in, as usual). Marietta's born-again Christian ways are reconfigured by the stimulating New York artistic scene, and before long she's living the life of a bohemian and sharing the bed of not one but two fellow artists.

[Familiar Woody Theme #3: New York as catalyst; a remaker of people and personalities.]

Patricia Clarkson (as Marietta) gets a whiff of the New York bohemian lifestyle.

Melodie's dad John (Ed Begley Jr.) is next to make an appearance on Boris' doorstep; he's looking to patch things up with Marietta -- upon whom he cheated, thereby initiating her flight from their New Orleans home to begin with. Of course, that relationship train has long since left the station, leading John to a self-discovery platform of his own.

All of this (and considerably more) occurs in the space of 92 minutes, during which those of us who admire Allen's earlier films will find ourselves basking in the glow of a venerable creative lighthouse. Though we fear, due to the ill-tempered surliness of the lead character, that the experience may prove too grating for uninitiated viewers. There's nothing much original here in terms of subject matter or execution, but it's great to revisit the Woody of yore without having to resort to a classic DVD.

For Larry David, this represents his first lead acting role in a film, and he acquits himself well. While the performance may be seen as a bit of a one note symphony, that's clearly the way it was written -- so blame for this should be laid at the door of the author, not the actor.

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