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Posts tagged Woody Allen

In the new Scooter, Abe Sauer offers tips on how to make sure your children aren’t brainwashed this fall, in “How To Talk To Your Kids About Republicans”:

Just as Joe Camel once enticed children into tobacco addiction, the two parties’ cartoon mascots are an early gateway. With its kid-friendly (if lumbering) elephant, the GOP has the edge over the Democrats’ donkey. Your kids will view Republicans as the party of Babar and Dumbo: joyous orphans who faced the hardships of life on their own, without assistance from any central authority.

Meanwhile, the only donkey in most kids’ lives is Eeyore, Winnie the Pooh’s compatriot who never stops whining about his lot in life. While Eeyore does exhibit a glum, enjoyable humor, it is of the sort most associated with adult characters like Woody Allen. And there is only one child in the world who has ever loved Woody Allen.

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All Over Manhattan


Sorry, you used to be one of my favorite movies, and there’s just so much great stuff here, but the whole “42 year old ugly guy dating a beautiful 17 year old” as a sign of moral clarity is just too much bullshit to handle. It’s a shame.

That’s what they said about Lolita. Nevertheless, it’s the best movie of the 20th Century. His one movie with the perfect balance of comedy and drama, deft where Annie Hall goes for the slapstick (e.g., coke sneeze), brilliant framing and awesome cinematography, unabashed Manhattanphilia, super casting, and yes, the dialogue. Amazing moments: the four of them squirming in their seats at the concert. The car taking the curving GWB exit. The Planetarium scene. Tracy squeaking “I go to high school” when Diane Keaton, fresh off her pretentious rant about the “academy of the overrated,” asks her what she does. Donnie, Keaton’s analyst who calls her up weeping at 3am and later goes into a coma. The breakup scene. The Gershwin. The fireworks. Woody saying he’s just going through the lingerie ads when Keaton asks if he’s read some intellectual piece in the Sunday Times magazine. Of course, the park bench under the Queensboro bridge. Woody with the kid at the Russian Tea Room. Meryl Streep. You can’t ask anything more from a movie.

And of course, When Harry Met Sally completely rips off the ending.

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