35. Annie Hall

I’m going to start my first entry in this blog with a guilty admission: I easily get impatient with movies. Not frustrated impatient, but checking my watch frequently impatient. In the four or so times I’ve seen Annie Hall, this has never been a problem. It’s so perfectly written, I still catch lines I glanced over the first time, this time around especially enjoying bits such as the brief ‘meetings’ conversation.

It’s also rare that a romantic comedy can be so incredibly entertaining without actually doing a whole ton. Outside of getting together and breaking up, little plot really exists, and the story isn’t even told chronologically. Though I’d argue this plays to its advantage, adding to the surreal element that makes it even more unique. Allen probably breaks more walls and conventions in this movie than I’ve ever seen in one before, making the movie surprising and different at every turn, by providing live commentary on his memories, turning into a cartoon, etc. All the rules have been suspended in his comprehensive reflection. He looks at us, talks to us, confides in us, relates to us, and does the same to strangers on the street. As a self-centered individual, he lets the entire world talk about his problems, and as a helpless one, he looks to them for advice.

From the title alone, we can tell the movie is about a specific period in his life, that in which he was involved with Annie. From there, he gives us contextual bookends, and addresses us almost as his psychiatrist, hoping for closure. He mentions in the opening he is still ‘searching for what he did wrong,’ or something to that effect, and even after watching the movie it’s difficult to pinpoint the exact moment. Alvy remains static throughout to movie, and though Annie rubs off on him a bit, he mostly acts as her mentor. Her evolution is best realized in the singing scenes, how Alvy encouraged her to become a confident, outgoing individual, and she ends up going beyond his encouragement and grows out of him. This also seems to be disorienting for Alvy, as in his previous relationships it’s been vice-versa.

But Alvy refuses to accept this, and he may be right and I wrong, maybe he just coaxed out her true self, one more outgoing than he. But therein lies the issue, she is the one person he doesn’t hate. He openly criticizes politicians, actions, professors, writers, musicians, producers, the random passerby, and even his only close friend, Max. Which is why he talks to us, as he really has no one else to lean on.

The bittersweet ending is probably on of the truest a romantic comedy can have, on of eventual mutuality and acceptance, and the closing montage of Alvy’s memories shows us just how much both he and the audience experienced with Annie, something we might not realize otherwise. Most romantic comedies are movies you want to be in, movies you’re supposed to fantasize about. Annie Hall though, instead of whisking you away on an adventure, just sits down and sympathizes with you.