Melinda and Melinda
I’m a Woody Allen fan. By this I mean that I’ve seen most of his films: from the serious Interiors to the just plain silly “Love and Death”, from the beautiful “Manhatten” to the edgier “Husbands and Wives”, from the science fiction outing “Sleeper” to the musical “Everyone Says I Love You” (this last the source of one of my favourite ludicrous Woody Allen moments, with Alan Alda describing a scene as “like Noel Coward—with hockey”). I’ve missed the last few, but though they’ve only had lukewarm reviews, I still intend to see them: even the lesser Woody Allen films have plenty of moments I enjoy. So, I decided to make the effort to get out to see “Melinda and Melinda” in the cinema, especially since so much of the hype for the film beforehand touted it as Allen’s “return to form”.
Let’s get it out there straight away: this is not another “Manhatten”. It’s more of the calibre of “Manhatten Murder Mystery”: light, fun, a little out of touch (Allen’s interiors and characters get more refined, and, of course, highbrow as his films go on.) At the beginning of “Broadway Danny Rose” a group of comedians sit around and tell stories. At the beginning of “Melinda and Melinda” successful playwrights enjoy dinner together while debating the relationship between comedy and tragedy. This device, introducing the two storylines, has been criticised: probably more for what it is not than for what’s there. It’s a pity: yes, the actors (including Woody Allen stalwart Wallace Shawn) represent a milieu that is all but outdated, but the debate is a old one: and it is not a question of which eventually prevails that is the most interesting, but the close relationship between these.
So it is, this group of jovial diners discuss a story that they’ve heard the barebones of recently, and one playwright casts the facts as tragedy, the other as comedy. Melinda, played by Melbourne’s own Radha Mitchell, is the only cast member appearing in both versions of the story.
The truth is, Allen doesn’t do a lot with the material. Yes, at times the tragic version of the story is funnier than the comedic; yes, the facts can be renarrated in either style; but the truth is that largely the two stories are quite separate in spite of the signposts that crop up in both stories. The main effect of this twice-told story is that the film seems a little too long, but by and large it is an enjoyable exercise: not for drawing any grand conclusions, but because it is interesting to see how the same material is reworked.
Will Ferrell appears in the comedy half, and Ferrell is the Allen stand-in. This is not painful as it was when Kenneth Branagh took on the same role in 1998’s Celebrity. Ferrell as Hobie manages to make this character his own: yes, you can easily imagine a younger Allen delivering some of his lines, but, in truth, I don’t think Woody Allen ever wrote the part with himself in mind: Ferrell becomes most likeable for the audience when he is being most petulant. He and his wife set up Melinda on a date with, apparently, the ultimate catch: a New York dentist who hikes, drives a swanky car and has a house in the Hamptons. To make it less intimidating, they double: Ferrell, jealous, spends the duration of the date playing up, asking foolish questions, and sulking. I’m not a Will Ferrell fan, but I liked him here.
On the tragedy side, Mitchell is heavier: she doesn’t display the easy come easy go attitude of the comedic Melinda, and her dissatisfaction is mirrored by that of Chloe Sevigny as Laurel.
My main problem with this film is that I was often a step ahead of Allen: perhaps this is why the film felt too long? Cutting it to move a little more quickly, not re-enacting each part of the story as both comedy and tragedy would have helped it a little. But I’m glad I saw it, glad Woody is still capable of engaging me for an afternoon.
Let’s get it out there straight away: this is not another “Manhatten”. It’s more of the calibre of “Manhatten Murder Mystery”: light, fun, a little out of touch (Allen’s interiors and characters get more refined, and, of course, highbrow as his films go on.) At the beginning of “Broadway Danny Rose” a group of comedians sit around and tell stories. At the beginning of “Melinda and Melinda” successful playwrights enjoy dinner together while debating the relationship between comedy and tragedy. This device, introducing the two storylines, has been criticised: probably more for what it is not than for what’s there. It’s a pity: yes, the actors (including Woody Allen stalwart Wallace Shawn) represent a milieu that is all but outdated, but the debate is a old one: and it is not a question of which eventually prevails that is the most interesting, but the close relationship between these.
So it is, this group of jovial diners discuss a story that they’ve heard the barebones of recently, and one playwright casts the facts as tragedy, the other as comedy. Melinda, played by Melbourne’s own Radha Mitchell, is the only cast member appearing in both versions of the story.
The truth is, Allen doesn’t do a lot with the material. Yes, at times the tragic version of the story is funnier than the comedic; yes, the facts can be renarrated in either style; but the truth is that largely the two stories are quite separate in spite of the signposts that crop up in both stories. The main effect of this twice-told story is that the film seems a little too long, but by and large it is an enjoyable exercise: not for drawing any grand conclusions, but because it is interesting to see how the same material is reworked.
Will Ferrell appears in the comedy half, and Ferrell is the Allen stand-in. This is not painful as it was when Kenneth Branagh took on the same role in 1998’s Celebrity. Ferrell as Hobie manages to make this character his own: yes, you can easily imagine a younger Allen delivering some of his lines, but, in truth, I don’t think Woody Allen ever wrote the part with himself in mind: Ferrell becomes most likeable for the audience when he is being most petulant. He and his wife set up Melinda on a date with, apparently, the ultimate catch: a New York dentist who hikes, drives a swanky car and has a house in the Hamptons. To make it less intimidating, they double: Ferrell, jealous, spends the duration of the date playing up, asking foolish questions, and sulking. I’m not a Will Ferrell fan, but I liked him here.
On the tragedy side, Mitchell is heavier: she doesn’t display the easy come easy go attitude of the comedic Melinda, and her dissatisfaction is mirrored by that of Chloe Sevigny as Laurel.
My main problem with this film is that I was often a step ahead of Allen: perhaps this is why the film felt too long? Cutting it to move a little more quickly, not re-enacting each part of the story as both comedy and tragedy would have helped it a little. But I’m glad I saw it, glad Woody is still capable of engaging me for an afternoon.
posted by Kate Middleton at 3:24 AM
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