Woody, Meet The Woodman

I know the title of this blog sounds like that of a western-tinged gay porno, but bear with me-it's time to discuss the cinema's two greatest Woodys-a family-friendly cowboy and a ponderous little Jewish genius. Let us begin with a review of the only film out as of this moment that I'll allow you to break your mainstream movie boycott (which I assume you've been following...right?) to see;

In the interest of keeping the stunning specifics of Toy Story's denoument a surprise (better so that it bowls you over even more), I'll simply say this: the saga of Woody and Buzz stands next to that of Frodo and Sam as a tale that will transcend its moment and become one of the defining pop culture creations of our generation. This film, for all its eye-candy visuals and delightful new characters (Michael Keaton steals every scene he's in as a very....erm...effeminate Ken doll), is really about closure. It will resonate most strongly with people around my age-those who grew up with these films. At that strange bridge between secondary schooling and the Rest of Your Life, the time has come to say goodbye to so many things, and, 11 years after the last installment, the geniuses at Pixar have given us not a half-assed, money-grubbing follow up, but a wonderful chance to say goodbye to these talking toys too, toys that for many of us were as integral a part of our childhoods as our relatives and friends and old haunts. And they've done it with just the right amount of funky humor and lump-in-the-throat pathos. Those final ten minutes make up the best singular scene you're likely to find at the movies all year, taking an ingenious form that allows us to see all of our personal favorite characters, spend one last marvelous moment with them, and then begin the painful but necessary process of pulling away that we'll repeat so many times over these next few years. Kiddie flick, my ass. The only downside is all those honest tears will fog up your 3D glasses. So long, Woody. You will endure as long as the movies do. A. Woody Allen will endure as well...hey, speaking of him, this week's Saviors of Cinema film is-

HANNAH AND HER SISTERS

The 25: The greatest by the greatest. Or so I say.

I don't quite think I can call Hannah And Her Sisters my favorite film, but suffice to say that it's my ultimate idol's greatest creative output and possibly the wisest picture ever produced-it knows so very much about the secrets of love, of loneliness, of hidden wants and needs, and relates that knowledge in a series of a chapters (it's structured like a novel) that are uproarious and slyly touching, often at the same time. Annie Hall is considered by many to be Woody Allen's best work, but there are moments of remarkable insight here that make that movies' famous "we need the eggs" line look like kid's stuff.

Allen's script (so brilliant a screenplay Pulitzer category was almost created just to honor it) chronicles two years in the lives of three close-knit siblings-self-sufficient Hannah (Mia Farrow), pensive, pent-up Lee (Barbara Hershey), and venomously competitive Holly (Oscar winner Dianne Wiest), as well as the goings-on in the lives of their parents, children, exes and lovers during that same timespan. And if this sounds like one of those overstuffed arthouse bores that crams in fifty pointless characters just to show off, that it ain't. The structure allows Allen to explore almost every conceivable kind of relationship-sister and sister, father and son, husband and wife, and best friends and lovers and so on. The answer to why I love Allen so much lies in this gentle probing-in the way he understands and portrays truths we always knew but could never voice. He's the great humanist of the movies, seeing right through us all with x-ray precision and displaying our damaged contents without judging them. Even his laugh lines are filled with psychological revelation. Take for example the scene when Mickey, Hannah's ex (played by Allen himself), argues with his father (Leo Postrel) about the meaning of it all. When Mickey posits a question about the presence of evil in the world, his papa responds with this howler of a comeback: "How should I know why there were Nazi's?! I don't even know how the can opener works!" It gets a hearty chuckle, sure, but there's something very telling embedded in it, an astute observation regarding the late 20th century generation gap that bridged a purely practical generation from a ruthlessly inquisitive, spiritually adrift one. The film is filled with dual-functioning lines like this. Watch it once to catch the humour, twice to catch the genius.

This is also the rare picture where all the different Allen's come out to play, and do so at the top of their game. Allen the screenwriter, as previously mentioned. Allen, the actor, in his most complete performance playing a confused, nervously witty man-child in whom, frankly, I see a lot of myself. Allen the director, pulling career-great performances out of many of his actors-particularly Wiest, a study in emotional nakedness, and fellow Oscar winner Michael Caine as Hannah's not-so-devoted husband, who despite his wavering fidelity is somehow the story's most likable character. Allen the comedian, who understands timing and delivery better than anyone else around. Allen the lover of art, cramming his film with poetry and paintings and impassioned renditions of old cry-in-your-champagne jazz standards. Allen the lover of New York, thrilling to the metropolitan magic of the Manhattan streets and making them a central character as well as a location. And at the center of it all, Allen, cinema's Ultimate Understander, the purveyor of hard-to-swallow but compassionately conveyed truths about who we are and why we're here. That few film addicts have seen this one is a damn shame. That most people haven't seen it puts them at quite a disadvantage, for, after all, there's so much one can learn about themselves through The Woodman's massive spectacles.

Singular Scene: Mickey's final monologue. If it isn't Allen's personal proudest moment as actor and screenwriter, it should be.