English film critic David Thomson's dislike, dare I say contempt, of Woody Allen is well known. Look up a Thomson review of an Allen film and it is most likely negative, with the exception of Match Point (2005). In his wonderful book The New Biographical Dictionary of Film, Thomson leveled this charge against Allen: "Moreover, some of his films are so inconsequential, so much a matter of habit, that they make his productivity seem artificial." Is this true? Are some of Allen's films so easily dismissible? If so, what does it say for Woody Allen's stature in the history of cinema? Conversely, is it fair? Has Allen's longevity and creative output surpassed any comparable measure of legacy we have available?
The word auteur is one of the most abused and misused words ever. It is freely applied where it shouldn't be and never given where it should. François Truffaut and the writers of the French film magazine Cahiers du Cinéma made the term sexy in the 1960s when they picked Alfred Hitchcock out of the quagmire his career had become and elevated him to exaltedness. Cinemaphiles came to view Hitchcock as the first auteur. However, it may be startling to some to know that Frank Capra (yes, that Frank Capra) was largely working under this theory throughout his career. The end product came to fruition in such classics as Mr. Smith Goes to Washington and Meet John Doe.
Why do I bring Frank Capra into an article about David Thomson's dislike of Woody Allen's work?
In an analysis of Woody Allen in an article for the Guardian online, Thomson noted, "He's made it clear over the years that the possibility of matching Ingmar Bergman has challenged him. That means not simply being a respectable (or un-American?) artist, more novelist than standup comedian, but a director who deals in anguish, especially as it occurs in love stories."
Here is where Thomson's main gripe with Allen exists. And a large part of it has to do with Allen's acting abilities, or, in the film critic's view, lack thereof. "The reason I have never been able to accept him as an actor," Thompson says, "is the lack of generosity or energy in his presence. He seems closed off, or so classically neurotic that it actually obscures vulnerability."
Here, once again, we must return to Frank Capra. As the 1950s progressed, a derogatory term began to dog the director. "Capracorn" was used to knock the director's optimistic view of American society and the chances it had to offer, as witnessed in the aforementioned Mr. Smith Goes to Washington and Meet John. In a rush to sweep out the past, what was lost was the underlying messages in Capra's films. His work was dismissed as antiquated and the product of a dinosaur that needed to be put out to pasture long ago.
When viewed from a perspective, shaded by the biases of the day, older artists come off as flawed. It's no mere coincidence that Allen's recent work has come under the heaviest of criticism, as is the case with the most recent Magic in the Moonlight.
Quoth Thomson: "It may just be paying his debt to time, or conforming to the sadder laws of nature but Magic in the Moonlight is awful and unnecessary."
Clearly, Allen's vision of cinema rubs Thomson the wrong way because he continues expecting something from Allen that is not in the director's make-up. Allen is an auteur. Like Capra, Allen's philosophy and sense of life are viewed as antiquated--but only when expectations outweigh reality. If Woody Allen wants to challenge Ingmar Bergman's approach to looking at love and film, I feel Thomson believes, then he has to become Ingmar Bergman. That is the flaw in Thomson's views. He continues to expect Woody Allen to become someone else.
