No. 6: Annie Hall (Allen)

Remember that this is my personal ballot and not the final compiled ballot that will be published in this space on 2/29/12.

(Before I get started:  The rain rain rain finally came came came and I am sitting here on our red sofa, writing out this post in longhand.  Mavis, old oldest cat, is sleeping on my lap and Annie Hall is playing as I write this.  Carol Kane just said, "No, that's wonderful.  I love being reduced to a cultural stereotype."  This is the only way I can enjoy Bay Area rain:  when I am inside, windows slightly opened, and I am absorbing the crackling electrical atmosphere in peaceful quiet.)

I have already discussed Annie Hall a fair bit in this post, so I will not talk too much about the film here right now.  I will say that Allen and Marshall Brickman's "kitchen sink" approach, i.e.  breaking the fourth wall numerous times, the use of animation, subtitles, jerking us around in time repeatedly, certain documentary-style flourishes, etc, ... was absolutely magical to behold as a nine year old in 1977.  And still holds up enormously well today.  As a child I was quite convinced that the film was a documentary, the life story of comedian Alvy Singer, I suppose.  My mother had to explain to me that Woody Allen was not a comedian, he was a writer and a director.

April 3, 1978 was a big night in our little household, a town house on Abrams Ave, in Dallas, Texas.  It was Oscars Night and Oscars Night has always been a big deal to our family.  (David Mamet has an excellent essay in his book, Writing in Restaurants, that proposes that the two biggest American Holidays now are Super Bowl Sunday and Oscar Night.  And as much as our family loves sports, we are def an Oscar Night family more than a Super Bowl Sunday one.)

The three of us were huddled, downstairs, sitting at our dining room table (our cat, Layla, was prob sulking somewhere, acting aloof), watching the show unfold on our modest black and white television.  I do not remember this but I did some research, natch, and Bob Hope was the host that night.  It was the eighteenth time he had hosted the Oscars, and his last.  Also, the next day was a school day for me, so I did not see the entire show.  I trudged upstairs, prob throwing a fit the whole while, went to bed, and missed (I think) the Best Director and Best Picture presentations.  And this was an especially big Oscar Night for the three of us because we had v serious rooting interests:  Star Wars had the most nominations and the conventional wisdom was that it would be the big big winner that night.

Do not get me wrong.  We all saw Star Wars together in the theater upon its release.  Andy (my Da) and I even liked it a good deal.  Donna (my Mum) could take Star Wars or leave it, as best as I can remember.  Still, I also remember telling my friend, Ricky Minor (at our lockers), that Star Wars was good but Close Encounters of the Third Kind was even better after I had seen that, too.  I had seen Annie Hall before both of those blockbusters, and even at that age, I was nearly ten years old, it was Woody Allen's masterpiece that I enjoyed far more than Star Wars or Close Encounters.

Plus, my mother had another big rooting interest, in addition to Annie Hall, a film she still adores:  Julia.  I do not remember it at all but apparently Vanessa Redgrave gave a v controversial, political acceptance speech when she claimed her Best Supporting Actress Award.

The night went v well for the Spitlers in the end.  Star Wars won a bushel full of Oscars but only for technical categories.  Julia and Annie Hall swept both the Screenwriting Awards, and nearly swept all four of the Acting categories, Richard Dreyfuss won for The Goodbye Girl.  And, of course, Woody Allen won for Best Director and Annie Hall won Best Picture.  Allen was not there to accept his Oscar.  He always plays with his jazz band on Monday nights in Manhattan.  It was the closest ever, and likely always will be, that the Academy's taste matched with ours.  Yeah, forget likely, I will never see such a triumphant Oscar Night like that again, which is what makes this memory so special.

Top Six quotes, moments from Annie Hall:

1.  "Don't worry.  We can walk to the curb from here."
2.  "Yeah, grass, right? The illusion that it will make a white woman more like Billie Holiday."
3.  "Hey, don't knock masturbation.  It's sex with someone I love."
4.  " 'The food here is terrible.' 'I know, and such small portions.' "
5.  The spider in the bathroom sequence is one of the most touching and realistic things I have ever seen in a cinema, so poignant and lovely.
6.  The brilliant New Wave pastiche:  the subtitled sequence on Annie's patio.

Mwah, 


Ardent