In CRIMES AND MISDEMEANORS, Woody Allen plays a documentary filmmaker named Cliff Stern who is working on a film about a philosopher who is also a Holocaust survivor. As Cliff shows a sample of his incomplete film to Halley Reed, played by Mia Farrow, the old philosopher drones away in the background discussing rather elementary questions of morality. Obviously oblivious to the sad fact that the old man's rambling discourse is tedious and banal, Allen and Farrow rave about his insights and brilliance.
Meanwhile, Cliff is also making a TV documentary -- strictly for the money, about a crass Norman Lear-like television producer, played by Alan Alda. Lester, Alda's character, also happens to be Cliff's brother-in-law, and Cliff hates the man; supposedly because he is a crude and pretentious showman, but most probably because Lester is a financially successful crude and pretentious showman. Throughout CRIMES AND MISDEMEANORS, Allen holds up Lester to a degree of ridicule that is equal to the degree of awe he reserves for the droning philosopher.
It doesn't take a genius to see the parallel that this situation has for the way Woody has come to approach his film-making. He has this misbegotten desire to be taken serious as a dramatist and an insightful philosopher that clashes with the reality that what he does best is to create comedy, particularly comedy that mocks the very pontificating, overwritten gobbledygook that passes for deep philosophical ponderings.
CRIMES AND MISDEMEANORS is roughly divided into two barely related stories. The "misdemeanor" of the title is a variation of the standard Woody Allen love story. Allen's Cliff is unhappily married and he lusts after Farrow's Halley, who in turn has caught the eye of Lester. There is a nothing terribly new or original in this tale, but it does give Allen a chance to hurl his usual sardonic barbs at the male/female condition and the sorry state of the world in general.
However, most of CRIMES focuses on the "serious" story, the "crime." Martin Landau plays Judah Rosenthal, a prominent and highly respected eye specialist. However, Judah's perfect world is threatened when his unstable mistress, Dolores (Anjelica Huston), gets tired of being taken for granted and demands that he leave his wife or suffer the consequences. Not wishing to have his well-ordered life shaken up, he arranges for his shady brother, Jack (Jerry Orbach), to "take care of" Dolores, while Judah moans and groans endlessly about how awful the whole situation makes him feel. Allen's point in CRIMES is that while Cliff's life is ruined -- or at least messed up -- by his petty sin of coveting, Judah's only gets better and better after his involvement in a murder. Allen's question seems to be how can such an injustice happen if there is, indeed, a just and honorable God?
Allen's point is well taken; unfortunately, his film is hard to take. As a filmmaker, his style can become stilted, arch and cynical. When he puts these qualities into his comedy, it produces wryly sophisticated humor. When applied to his attempts at drama, the result is too often sterile, dispassionate and unappealing. His literate comedy turns into painful preaching and posturing.
Allen is obviously most concerned with the story of Judah, a study of a basically good man who can commit and prosper from evil deeds. And perhaps the viewer could sympathize with Allen's queries if Woody hadn't inadvertently stacked the deck so that we sympathize to some degree with Judah's actions, by giving us a Dolores who is a belligerent shrew and a blackmailer. We aren't given a lot of reason to feel sorry for Delores, and even though Judah comes off as a transparently insincere hypocrite in his response to the killing, we are given every reason to believe that he has otherwise led a superior and moral life. Could it be that Judah can get away with a bad deed because he has worked hard to build up so much good karma in the first place? Woody won't raise that question.
Woody, meanwhile, tries to give us Cliff as the noble "little man" who suffers unfairly in the shadow of a rich and powerful sinner like Judah -- and, for that matter, Lester. But Cliff is not a very nice person. Beyond being a potential philanderer, Cliff comes off as a mean and petty little man, who seems to blame others for all his failures. When Cliff finds himself down and almost out at the end, it's his fault, not God's.
CRIMES AND MISDEMEANORS is for the most part a parable, with the moral being "Life is not fair;" whether the crime is big or small, moral justice is an illusion. As obvious as it seems, it is also a self-serving moral that just doesn't ring particularly true, since neither Judah nor Cliff are all bad or all good and, most importantly, the story only examines fragments of their entire lives. Just as Cliff's film on Lester shows only parts that make him look bad, Allen is selective in how he reveals who Judah and Cliff are. It just may be that God has a broader view of what constitutes justice than Allen might embrace.
Certainly Woody seems to be far more judgmental than God, especially when it comes to judging God. Indeed, perhaps the true moral of CRIMES -- and much of his other work -- is that "It is all God's fault, or it would be if God existed -- but he doesn't, so let's blame God for not existing in the first place." For an atheist, Allen certainly places a lot of blame on an entity that he doesn't even believe in. In Woody's world, God just can't win.
Meanwhile, Cliff is also making a TV documentary -- strictly for the money, about a crass Norman Lear-like television producer, played by Alan Alda. Lester, Alda's character, also happens to be Cliff's brother-in-law, and Cliff hates the man; supposedly because he is a crude and pretentious showman, but most probably because Lester is a financially successful crude and pretentious showman. Throughout CRIMES AND MISDEMEANORS, Allen holds up Lester to a degree of ridicule that is equal to the degree of awe he reserves for the droning philosopher.
It doesn't take a genius to see the parallel that this situation has for the way Woody has come to approach his film-making. He has this misbegotten desire to be taken serious as a dramatist and an insightful philosopher that clashes with the reality that what he does best is to create comedy, particularly comedy that mocks the very pontificating, overwritten gobbledygook that passes for deep philosophical ponderings.
CRIMES AND MISDEMEANORS is roughly divided into two barely related stories. The "misdemeanor" of the title is a variation of the standard Woody Allen love story. Allen's Cliff is unhappily married and he lusts after Farrow's Halley, who in turn has caught the eye of Lester. There is a nothing terribly new or original in this tale, but it does give Allen a chance to hurl his usual sardonic barbs at the male/female condition and the sorry state of the world in general.
However, most of CRIMES focuses on the "serious" story, the "crime." Martin Landau plays Judah Rosenthal, a prominent and highly respected eye specialist. However, Judah's perfect world is threatened when his unstable mistress, Dolores (Anjelica Huston), gets tired of being taken for granted and demands that he leave his wife or suffer the consequences. Not wishing to have his well-ordered life shaken up, he arranges for his shady brother, Jack (Jerry Orbach), to "take care of" Dolores, while Judah moans and groans endlessly about how awful the whole situation makes him feel. Allen's point in CRIMES is that while Cliff's life is ruined -- or at least messed up -- by his petty sin of coveting, Judah's only gets better and better after his involvement in a murder. Allen's question seems to be how can such an injustice happen if there is, indeed, a just and honorable God?
Allen's point is well taken; unfortunately, his film is hard to take. As a filmmaker, his style can become stilted, arch and cynical. When he puts these qualities into his comedy, it produces wryly sophisticated humor. When applied to his attempts at drama, the result is too often sterile, dispassionate and unappealing. His literate comedy turns into painful preaching and posturing.
Allen is obviously most concerned with the story of Judah, a study of a basically good man who can commit and prosper from evil deeds. And perhaps the viewer could sympathize with Allen's queries if Woody hadn't inadvertently stacked the deck so that we sympathize to some degree with Judah's actions, by giving us a Dolores who is a belligerent shrew and a blackmailer. We aren't given a lot of reason to feel sorry for Delores, and even though Judah comes off as a transparently insincere hypocrite in his response to the killing, we are given every reason to believe that he has otherwise led a superior and moral life. Could it be that Judah can get away with a bad deed because he has worked hard to build up so much good karma in the first place? Woody won't raise that question.
Woody, meanwhile, tries to give us Cliff as the noble "little man" who suffers unfairly in the shadow of a rich and powerful sinner like Judah -- and, for that matter, Lester. But Cliff is not a very nice person. Beyond being a potential philanderer, Cliff comes off as a mean and petty little man, who seems to blame others for all his failures. When Cliff finds himself down and almost out at the end, it's his fault, not God's.
CRIMES AND MISDEMEANORS is for the most part a parable, with the moral being "Life is not fair;" whether the crime is big or small, moral justice is an illusion. As obvious as it seems, it is also a self-serving moral that just doesn't ring particularly true, since neither Judah nor Cliff are all bad or all good and, most importantly, the story only examines fragments of their entire lives. Just as Cliff's film on Lester shows only parts that make him look bad, Allen is selective in how he reveals who Judah and Cliff are. It just may be that God has a broader view of what constitutes justice than Allen might embrace.
Certainly Woody seems to be far more judgmental than God, especially when it comes to judging God. Indeed, perhaps the true moral of CRIMES -- and much of his other work -- is that "It is all God's fault, or it would be if God existed -- but he doesn't, so let's blame God for not existing in the first place." For an atheist, Allen certainly places a lot of blame on an entity that he doesn't even believe in. In Woody's world, God just can't win.