Of all places in this huge and rainy world of ours, among the least heterocentric ought to be New York's West Village. And yet... When I got to the Film Forum tonight, as I purchased my ticket to "Annie Hall," I was informed that this was the last one. Knowing that fellow IFSer Charlotte was just down the street, I explained that my friend would be there soon. I kept saying, "My friend, she's just down the street," but the ticket salesmen insisted my friend was a "he" and wanted a description of what "he" looked like. I wouldn't have made a fuss about it, but to get her the ticket, I did need to describe who she was so that she could get in once I'd saved her a seat, and her being a "she" is one of the more ways of describing her, as gender is for the great majority of people. Is it that inconceivable that two women might go to a movie together on a Friday night? Is the "I like boys" sign still as visible as ever?
As for "Annie Hall" itself... it seemed the perfect pre-Israel-trip movie, a look at diaspora Judaism at its most self-loathing before encountering the "Jewry of muscle" Nordau dreamed of and Herzl and so many others gave their lives to provide with a country. But for all the despicable things it may stand for, "Annie Hall" is evidence that Woody Allen is, at times, quite brilliant:
Alvy Singer: I think, I think there's too much burden placed on the orgasm, you know, to make up for empty areas in life.
Pam: Who said that?
Alvy Singer: It may have been Leopold and Loeb.
That, and it's an amazing story about New York. One that makes perfect sense even in 2006.
Saturday, December 23, 2006
"Annie Hall"
Posted by Phoebe Maltz Bovy at Saturday, December 23, 2006
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment