Another Woman. (PG.)
Directed by Woody Allen. 1988
Starring Gena Rowlands, Mia Farrow, Ian Holm, Blythe Danner, Gene Hackman, Martha Plimpton, John Houseman, Sandy Dennis and Harris Yulin. 81 mins
Released on blu-ray from Arrow Academy or as part of the Woody Allen: Seven Film – 1986-1991.
The opening scene of Another Woman is surely the logical way for all Woody Allen dramas to open: with the lead character listing her credentials and achievements, and those of the supporting characters. Marion (Rowlands) is an eminent philosophy professor, her husband (Holms) is an eminent physician and all their friend are eminent this or thats. Woody dramas are so elevated and rarefied you suspect that the parents put the names of their unborn offspring down for submission, or that there is some kind of entry exam.
Of course all her career achievements and tasteful furnishing aren't going to protect her; she's going to be ripped to shreds. Everybody is going to line up to tell her that she is in fact a bit of an unfeeling old cow. Three films previously poor old Hannah was put through the wringer for the crime of being self sufficient and not having enough needs for her husbands and family to fulfill. Marion is going to be castigated for being too intellectual and being afraid of feelings. It really doesn't do to be a successful woman in a Woody film – though to be fair it doesn't really do to be a successful man either.
The phrase Woody Allen Drama is one to strike fear into any viewer but Another Woman isn't too bad, shows some imagination and skill. Its chief virtue is having a strong central premise; a hatstand to hang all the angst on. Marion is just starting out on a writing project and to escape from the supposed noise of construction at home (or perhaps to dispose of superfluous income) she rents a flat downtown to work in. The apartment has an interesting feature; through a ventilation shaft she can hear what is going on in the psychiatrist's office next door. She becomes particularly engrossed in the session of a young pregnant woman (Farrow.) Through listening to her fears and dissatisfaction she begins to reevaluate her life.
The film has all the usually drawbacks of a Woody drama. Nobody outside the central couple seems to have any interior life other than the moment they turn up to communicate their dramatic function in the plot. (Perhaps that is why Allen is considered to be an actors' director and so beloved by stars that they will work for him for union minimum. The characters he writes replicate the emotion of actors precisely: nothing matters to them beyond the moment when they are on stage/ screen.) Here though Allen is experimenting with flashback and dream sequences, the drama isn't as proscenium bound as previous efforts. His first collaboration with cinematographer Sven Nykvist, is probably his most successful attempt at doing a Bergman drama. Having Rowland at its centre anchors it, though possibly the best observed character is her husband, a priggish self contained man with a limited supply of desire. A moment at the conclusion when he uses on her a line we had previously heard him use on his first wife, though schematic, is a very effective dramatic moment, perfectly capturing a sense of how relationship fall inevitably to repeat themselves. It's quietly devastating, and Holm, who had a great gift for being distinctly creepy while remaining thoroughly reasonable, plays it perfectly.
Another Woman. (PG.)
Directed by Woody Allen. 1988
Starring Gena Rowlands, Mia Farrow, Ian Holm, Blythe Danner, Gene Hackman, Martha Plimpton, John Houseman, Sandy Dennis and Harris Yulin. 81 mins
Released on blu-ray from Arrow Academy or as part of the Woody Allen: Seven Film – 1986-1991.
The opening scene of Another Woman is surely the logical way for all Woody Allen dramas to open: with the lead character listing her credentials and achievements, and those of the supporting characters. Marion (Rowlands) is an eminent philosophy professor, her husband (Holms) is an eminent physician and all their friend are eminent this or thats. Woody dramas are so elevated and rarefied you suspect that the parents put the names of their unborn offspring down for submission, or that there is some kind of entry exam.
Of course all her career achievements and tasteful furnishing aren't going to protect her; she's going to be ripped to shreds. Everybody is going to line up to tell her that she is in fact a bit of an unfeeling old cow. Three films previously poor old Hannah was put through the wringer for the crime of being self sufficient and not having enough needs for her husbands and family to fulfill. Marion is going to be castigated for being too intellectual and being afraid of feelings. It really doesn't do to be a successful woman in a Woody film – though to be fair it doesn't really do to be a successful man either.
The phrase Woody Allen Drama is one to strike fear into any viewer but Another Woman isn't too bad, shows some imagination and skill. Its chief virtue is having a strong central premise; a hatstand to hang all the angst on. Marion is just starting out on a writing project and to escape from the supposed noise of construction at home (or perhaps to dispose of superfluous income) she rents a flat downtown to work in. The apartment has an interesting feature; through a ventilation shaft she can hear what is going on in the psychiatrist's office next door. She becomes particularly engrossed in the session of a young pregnant woman (Farrow.) Through listening to her fears and dissatisfaction she begins to reevaluate her life.
The film has all the usually drawbacks of a Woody drama. Nobody outside the central couple seems to have any interior life other than the moment they turn up to communicate their dramatic function in the plot. (Perhaps that is why Allen is considered to be an actors' director and so beloved by stars that they will work for him for union minimum. The characters he writes replicate the emotion of actors precisely: nothing matters to them beyond the moment when they are on stage/ screen.) Here though Allen is experimenting with flashback and dream sequences, the drama isn't as proscenium bound as previous efforts. His first collaboration with cinematographer Sven Nykvist, is probably his most successful attempt at doing a Bergman drama. Having Rowland at its centre anchors it, though possibly the best observed character is her husband, a priggish self contained man with a limited supply of desire. A moment at the conclusion when he uses on her a line we had previously heard him use on his first wife, though schematic, is a very effective dramatic moment, perfectly capturing a sense of how relationship fall inevitably to repeat themselves. It's quietly devastating, and Holm, who had a great gift for being distinctly creepy while remaining thoroughly reasonable, plays it perfectly.