In retrospect, Annie Hall serves as a rough draft for Manhattan, where Woody Allen honed his shticky self-flagellating and pseudo-philosophizing into something artistic and (mostly) wonderful. Certainly the meta elements here—talking directly to the camera, including the famous bit where he brings in Marshall McLuhan to win an intellectual argument—are ingeniously, entertainingly employed. And Diane Keaton as the title character, a goofy, on-again-off-again paramour to Allen’s insecure comic, skillfully laid the foundation (and fashion) for generations of free-spirited romantic interests. She’s a pure delight and deserves more scenes in which Annie is at the center. Still, Allen delivers a lot of groaners and gives the movie an intrinsic ick factor. Then—and certainly in retrospect—the throwaway line about twin 16-year-olds should have been the reddest of flags possible.
(2/2/2026)
