Title:Hannah and Her Sisters By: Woody Allen Released by: Orion Pictures Released on: 1986 Rating (out of 10): 9 Date: 07/02/2001
Michael Caine, Barbara Hershey, Woody Allen, Dianne Wiest
Chekhov in New York
This was always one of my favorite Woody Allen films. I loved Michael Caine's character and the lengths to which he will go to seduce his wife's sister. Remember that great scene where he's spying on her? He knows exactly the right time she'll leave her apartment to go to her, um, AA meeting—and when she leaves the building, he runs around the block, makes a circle, and "accidentally" runs smack into her. "Oh, fancy meeting you here!" he beams.
Right from the beginning, at the annual Thanksgiving party which breaks the film into its three acts, Elliot (Caine) is obsessed with Lee (Barbara Hershey). "God, she's beautiful," he says to himself, bemused. He ponders how he could have ended up with Hannah (Mia Farrow), who supposedly gives to everyone and asks for very little in return.
Elliot convinces himself that Lee is the right woman for him, despite her relationship with that gloomy tortured artist Frederick (that great actor, Max von Sydow). Frederick's twice her age and sits around in his loft muttering things like, "If Jesus came back and saw what's going on in His name, He'd never stop throwing up."
In a series of scenes, Elliot playfully flirts with Lee, and she seems to respond. Michael Caine is just delightful, all smiles and good cheer. He's playing a philanderer and a bit of a fool who doesn't realize he's a philanderer or a fool. When he finally makes his move on Lee, it's one of the most winning moments in a Woody Allen movie: He kisses her, then demands that she tell him how she feels. She admits to nothing and wanders off confused, while he stands in the street, giddy with almost drunken pleasure. "I have my answer. I have my answer! I'm walking on air! Ha hah!"
Bear in mind, this lovely fellow for whom we cheer to is about to commit adultery. Such is the slippery nature of a Woody Allen film that somehow we're rooting for him. What's great is that he's only one fascinating character in a terrific ensemble which comprises the immediate family—the husbands, lovers, and friends who circulate around the three sisters at the center of the movie.
Hannah has always been the least compelling for me, perhaps because she seems more or less steady and selfless. That's what makes her seem slightly aloof and standoffish. Still, someone's got to hold the family together. Her sister Lee is a bohemian, unable to stand on her own two feet without nurturing someone, and Holly (Dianne Wiest, brilliant) is someone new every week—one day she's an actress, the next a caterer, and now she's dabbling in screenwriting.
Every Thanksgiving, they get together and catch up. Mom gets drunk, and Dad plays the piano and, sure enough, Hannah's ex-husband Mickey (Woody Allen) comes around to pay his respects. While Elliot looks like he stepped from the pages of a Chekhov novel (or, in his thick glasses, is Woody's dramatic doppelganger), Mickey is clearly taking on the role of the intellectual clown.
While Elliot pursues his earthy delights, Mickey struggles with philosophical and spiritual issues, mainly the mystery of how to be happy in a Godless universe. He's a miserable television executive who feels that his job, his home—his whole New York ambience and environment—are completely out of whack. He's also convinced that he's dying, and this lovable hypochondriac is in and out of the doctor's office, pouring out his sea of worries. Hannah still listens to him, but setting Mickey up on a date with the fickle Holly in the middle of her punk-rock drug phase is probably not the best solution.
* * *
Hannah and Her Sisters is ultimately a story of relationships between men and women. Since Allen's dealing with a large cast, there is plenty of observational humor, as people drift through their lives in search of happiness. He treats each character with affection and good judgment as he deals with their weaknesses and sad-eyed smiles.
Woody Allen might as well be laying out an elaborate Russian novel, or Chekhovian short stories. He even separates each event with a chapter heading (i.e., "Lucky I Ran Into You") and provides Thanksgiving as both bookend and centerpiece. He deftly illustrates his characters and, as always, provides them with rich and amusing dialogue.
This movie is perhaps his finest love letter to the Park City apartments, the streets, the bookstores, and the trees and gardens of Manhattan. The autumn colors of cinematographer Carlo Di Palma lend a rich and saturated tone to this layered story. Need I say that the performances are especially fine here, especially Caine's winning turn as Elliot and Dianne Wiest's flustered and foggy, but ultimately sweet and good hearted Holly? (Of course, when you cast actors like Caine and Wiest, you really can't go wrong.)
It's a pleasure to see Max von Sydow in his handful of scenes. Allen has been a longtime Bergman fan, and what greater tribute than to cast this great Swedish actor who has fought so many wars on the theological screen battlefield? Von Sydow chews on his lines like cuds, whether offering his hatred of professional wrestling or telling Lee how much he needs her.
As Elliot and Mickey manage to solve their individual dilemmas, physical or spiritual, it leads them back to the safety of the home and family. Since this is a comedy of manners, all's well that ends well (as opposed to Allen's bleak variation, Crimes and Misdemeanors.) "I've been such a fool," one character admits to himself, and when he does, he says it with clear-eyed amusement.
That's really what it's all about. That—and if you need a justification to avoid suicide, there's always the Marx Brothers at your local cinema.
