Film - Whatever Works

Reviews, By clintond, 15th October, 2009

Woody Allen has had the idea for Whatever Works floating around for years: he originally wrote it for Zero Mostel, who died in the late 1970s. When he brought the idea out again a few years ago, his producer (and sister) Letty Aronson, suggested it be shelved again, since comparisons between Allen and the main character, Boris, would be inevitable. But I doubt crowds would think Allen as grumpy a curmudgeon as his character.

Boris (Larry David) is a cynic extraordinaire. He believes that every human aspiration, hope and religious belief is pointless, and we should therefore do “whatever works” to make us happy. Once, in a moment of suicidal pique, he jumped out of his apartment window; though his attempt was foiled by the building’s canopy, his theory of the haphazardness of existence was confirmed. He was once up for a Nobel Prize, and though prone to the occasional panic attack, he still considers himself pretty brilliant. He may be right. He’s so smart that he’s the only one aware of us out in the audience.

One night, Boris finds Melody (Evan Rachel Wood) huddling near his doorstep. A runaway from Mississippi, she’s cold and hungry, and a perfect foil for Boris’ grouchiness. And though he calls her every synonym for the word ‘twit’ under the sun, most of them accurate, he lets her in.

Allen’s four previous films were made in Europe. In last year’s Vicky Cristina Barcelona, the story was narrated in such a condescending tone; I surmised that Allen was spoofing the naivete and shallowness of sightseeing in general, as well as the floozies doing it. And in his British films, Match Point, Scoop and Cassandra’s Dream (which wasn’t even released here theatrically, though with Ewan McGregor and Colin Farrell, is worth seeking out on DVD), some critics mentioned that someone over-reaching for ‘Britishness’ had made them.

But Allen’s brought the eyes of the tourist back to the US with him. A number of characters, like Randy (the spunky Henry Cavill), who develops a crush on Melody, are non-New Yorkers. Allen’s depiction of the city is almost the idealised one of old Hollywood. It’s the place that no one is ever from, but where everybody goes. It’s the city that changes you. This is especially apparent after the appearance of two bible belters, Melody’s parents, John and Mareitta (Ed Begley Jr. and the sublime Patricia Clarkson, with her gravelly velvet voice).

Crowd-pleasing comedies nowadays don’t have much to stimulate the mind. But Allen continually proves that he’s probably one of our finest ever scriptwriters. Admittedly, I’m a fan. All I have to do is see his familiar typeface on screen, accompanied by an old jazz song (in this case it’s “Hello, I Must Be Going” by Groucho Marx) and I’m smiling in anticipation. His writing continues to be funny, insightful and genuinely affecting.

He jabs Christian fundamentalism over and over – there’s a great joke about the possibility of God being gay. I can even forgive the occasional lapses, the familiar storylines he can’t seem to eschew. Three characters, for example, wind up in a ménage a trois, and once again, there’s a romance between a younger woman and older man. Then again, there’s something nicely coy about them – they’re not so much sexual as respectful and affectionate. As the man who’s accustomed to using his intellect to hide from everything else, Boris is more than just a wisecracker. It’s to his credit that when the facade starts to break, we’re overjoyed, yet fearful, that he’s finally, humanly, vulnerable.

Watch the trailer here: