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Woody Allen’s latest film might be one to which you
can take that friend of yours who has always hated his “Oh my God, I
mean, how did I end up sleeping with a beautiful young woman whilst
writing a great new novel” style of plot creation.
Synopsis: Bunch of unaccomplished criminals headed up
by Ray Winkler (Allen) embark on plan to rob local bank, only to end up
cookie millionaires thanks to the cooking of Tracey Ullman. (Frenchy
Winkler - Tracy doesn’t play herself – although it might have been
more amusing if she had!) Having made their millions they enter polite
society and Frenchy’s love of “art” and determination to be accepted
by high society as a patron of the art begins to drive a wedge between her
and Ray. Soon she is buying ridiculously priced art, traveling around
Europe and eating in the best society accompanied by Hugh Grant and the
masked laughter of the socialites she’s trying to impress.
It’s nice to see the world in which Allen loves to
set his plots being criticised for once. And, difficult as it is for us
Brits to see Tracy Ullman as a superstar, she is perfect in the role as
Allen’s naïve yet sassy wife. She delivers excellent one liners and
there is some classic slapstick at points, in fact I laughed out loud.
Properly. Not just a chortle believe you me!
So why is it that I wasn’t that impressed by the
film as whole? Could it have the hackneyed, boring and frankly racist
characterisation of the uber-baddy (as far as this film can have one) as
an upper class Englishman in the form of Hugh Grant and complete with
accent? Could it have been that I felt that the film’s themes had all be
explored before? Could it have been that it all felt a little too obvious
how the plot would unfold? I don’t know I’m afraid.
It’s not that I wouldn’t advise you to go and see
it. Do go and see it. Enjoy it. But don’t blame me if you feel at the
end that it was missing an indefinable completeness that was almost,
nearly, just about within its grasp.
Katie
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Small Time Crooks