Whatever Works

2009. Dir: Woody Allen. Starring: Larry David, Evan Rachel Wood, Ed Begley Jr, Patricia Clarkson and Conleth Hill. ●○○○○



The philosophy of this film, which Larry David's Boris is keen to point out on numerous occasions, is that life is hard and transient enough that we should all strive for our own temporary measures of happiness, for Whatever Works. At heart it's a message of tolerance and forgiveness, that happiness is so fleeting we should hold on to it however it's obtained and not to begrudge other people's methods. Beautiful. Unfortunately the movie had the opposite effect on me, I left the cinema less happy then when I went in and I'm willing to forgo other people's happiness if this sort of tangled mess is the result.

I'll start in a positive way by listing the elements of the film I liked: the concept of Boris breaking the fourth wall and alienating the other characters was interesting (although it wasn't done well or with any consistency), Evan Rachel Wood gave a passable ditzy blond of the Mira Sorvino school of Allen heroines, the score was the usual easy jazz we've come to expect from Allen's movies and... No, don't expect any more, that's all I liked.



The flimsy plot follows bitter, nihilistic, semi-suicidal Boris, and the path of his relationship with Wood's Southern runaway Melody. Boris is clearly the Allen proxy but David shouts his way through the performance with none of the nebbishnish and self-deprecation that would have made the character work, he's not even rude and funny which would bring the audience some way around liking him. You have to wonder what naive Melody sees in him, and no the Pygmalian references in the film won't wash because Boris takes no pleasure in either the transformation (if there even is one) or the process of enabling this transformation.

Time, according to one of the direct to camera monologues (that's one where no-one notices him as opposed to the ones where people stare and question), passes and out of the blue Melody's parents played with gusto but no feeling by Patricia Clarkson and Ed Begley Jnr arrive separately as gargantuan stereotypes of deep south prejudices. Allen clearly doesn't know what to do with people outside of his usual social groupings has them immediately and without much warning lose their previous fears and anxieties and become a nymphomaniac and proud homosexual respectively.

I would say it was the influence of Allen's own Manhattan that sets these people free of their bonds, but you'd hardly know it was set in New York. The heady atmosphere of the city ever-present in Allen's greatest movies is barely noticeable with the location feeling the same as any other major metropolis.

All this, and much more, is squeezed into the 92 minute film making it feel like an eternity had passed before the end credits.

I want to end with more positivity, to praise Clarkson's costumes or the set decoration of David's duplex, but I can't. Sure these elements work, but they're uninventive and bordering on the cliched. Perhaps if I end with the one line that made me laugh out loud (and bear in mind it was an empty theatre so I didn't have an excuse for not guffawing often). Boris has just awoken from a nightmare panicking about is imminent demise - I did say the character was like a neuroses greatest hits for Allen didn't I? - and Melody suggests watching a film to calm down:

Boris I have stared into the abyss.

Melody We'll watch something else then.

Even that wasn't as good as I remember.