Review of Crimes and Misdemeanors (1989) by Nick O — 10 Jun 2011

Woody Allen doesn't work with extravaganza before throwing it a party and introducing it to all of his friends. What makes "Crimes and Misdemeanors" among the more notable exceptions in Allen's massive film career is the dramatic spike the guy here takes, creating dual narratives that don't meet until the skin of the teeth at the very end. Because Allen makes movies that not only he'd himself itch to watch, but lives dramatized of his very fans. Make sense? Think hard. Not a whole lot of "Crimes and Misdemeanors" is that complicated. When cheating ophthalmologist Judah Rosenthal (Martin Landau) graces the endgame to Cliff Stern's (Allen's character) would-be affair with TV producer Halley Reed (Mia Farrow), they perch hung-shouldered like symbols of religious consultants, the kind that come on the heels of dreams and nightmares.

Here's the paradox: in a city as alive with death as New York can often be, Judah and Cliff are able to both be right and wrong for varying reasons. Allen the writer and director meditates on Judah's contemplating rubbing out his mistress Dolores (Anjelica Huston) after she threatens to spill the beans to wife Miriam (Claire Bloom) via letters that Judah quietly stops and destroys. Comedy comes from the short-lived journey of Cliff and his polar relationships with budding niece and doomed better half Wendy (Joanna Gleason). Things get steamy with the producer Reed as they together cut footage of a documentary regarding pompous comedian Lester (a spellbound Alan Alda) while Cliff's ambition of an introspective miniseries on aging thinker Prof. Louis Levy (Martin Bergmann) are crushed for a quick paycheck.

But Cliff and Wendy's kinship is bone-dry at best. And Lester may be a dick, but he's ethically, if not philosophically, innocent. Cliff wants the girl in this new life of his, and to erase the one he chooses to leave behind. Meanwhile, Judah goes to the extreme for a clean slate, which in effect doesn't make it very clean at all. But did Allen find a scorcher. For a man as seemingly relaxed with his nuanced place in the world as Allen, "Crimes and Misdemeanors" suggests an annoyance of such a view in a grand scheme of things. It's heavy, and the climax sure doesn't lighten up. But Allen has a masterful slight of hand that deals with his social visions in a remarkably paced and nerving way. There's a sense of vision here in this preexisting world, where crimes and misdemeanors are two entirely different things. You fall into some bumps in the road by accident, while others only emerge from speeding easy, when you forget to look back.