A lot of narration in this one.
Marion is on leave of absence to begin writing a book. An academic, a philosophy professor. She mentions her mother's recent death as if it were a change in the weather. Married to Ken, a cardiologist ('he examined my heart, liked what he saw, and proposed'), she rents a small flat downtown in order to have somewhere quiet to work on the book, but is quickly distracted by conversations taking place in the next door psychiatrist's office. The conversations are amazingly loud, no wonder the apartment was available. Couple this with her sister-in-law's revelation that brother Paul not only idolises but hates Marion, and our protagonist begins a slow journey into the past to reexamine her life.
Another Woman (1988) smacks of Bergman's beguiling film Wild Strawberries (1957), minus the crisp b/w photography. The film's cinematography is a panoply of greys, muted tones, low lighting. It lacks the glacial beauty of Interiors (1978), a beauty that offset the characters' crushing search for perfection. The husband, Ken, is played by Ian Holm with repulsive tact and quiet pomposity. Gene Hackman is Marion's rejected lover. 'What can I say to change your heart?' There's a bit too much dialogue like that. Add to it the drab look of the film, the absence of sex appeal, and, well, meh. The teenage stepdaughter arrives at the apartment and says, 'Wow, this is great, I like it a lot.' This after having taken one step over the threshold, that's all. Later she asks an 89-year-old man if he thinks he could fall in love again. The line exists purely for Marion to disapprove. No teenager would ask such a sad relic such a preposterous question. Later, discussing Marion's preferred charities and good causes: 'Just give me a flutter of famine'. Did she really say THAT? A flutter? No, she didn't, it's 'a flood or a famine', but it still sounds glib. Later, when Marion dreams her way into one of Hope's (Mia Farrow) therapy sessions, the therapist asks Hope what enrages her: 'Life...The universe. The cruelty. The injustice. The suffering of humanity...'. The viewer is primed and ready for a classic Woody Allen zinger. His films, his prose, full of punchlines that pop the balloon of grandiosity. Do we get it? No. Just a brief reply, worthy of the not so brief Jordan Peterson: 'Don't worry about humanity all the time. Get your own life in order'.
Another Woman is so full of self recriminations, confessions, regrets, that one yearns for a character like Maureen Stapleton to cheer them all up, reconcile them to life's disappointments; to do the comedian's job. 'Tell funnier jokes', urged the Martians in Allen's film Stardust Memories (1980). Even if he couldn't find enough meaning in his comedy, others have. He should have made more of an effort to get to know them. In the end his character Marion does, but it's a tedious journey watching her get there.
'No, no more', Marion says around the hour mark. My sentiments exactly.
Marion is on leave of absence to begin writing a book. An academic, a philosophy professor. She mentions her mother's recent death as if it were a change in the weather. Married to Ken, a cardiologist ('he examined my heart, liked what he saw, and proposed'), she rents a small flat downtown in order to have somewhere quiet to work on the book, but is quickly distracted by conversations taking place in the next door psychiatrist's office. The conversations are amazingly loud, no wonder the apartment was available. Couple this with her sister-in-law's revelation that brother Paul not only idolises but hates Marion, and our protagonist begins a slow journey into the past to reexamine her life.
Another Woman (1988) smacks of Bergman's beguiling film Wild Strawberries (1957), minus the crisp b/w photography. The film's cinematography is a panoply of greys, muted tones, low lighting. It lacks the glacial beauty of Interiors (1978), a beauty that offset the characters' crushing search for perfection. The husband, Ken, is played by Ian Holm with repulsive tact and quiet pomposity. Gene Hackman is Marion's rejected lover. 'What can I say to change your heart?' There's a bit too much dialogue like that. Add to it the drab look of the film, the absence of sex appeal, and, well, meh. The teenage stepdaughter arrives at the apartment and says, 'Wow, this is great, I like it a lot.' This after having taken one step over the threshold, that's all. Later she asks an 89-year-old man if he thinks he could fall in love again. The line exists purely for Marion to disapprove. No teenager would ask such a sad relic such a preposterous question. Later, discussing Marion's preferred charities and good causes: 'Just give me a flutter of famine'. Did she really say THAT? A flutter? No, she didn't, it's 'a flood or a famine', but it still sounds glib. Later, when Marion dreams her way into one of Hope's (Mia Farrow) therapy sessions, the therapist asks Hope what enrages her: 'Life...The universe. The cruelty. The injustice. The suffering of humanity...'. The viewer is primed and ready for a classic Woody Allen zinger. His films, his prose, full of punchlines that pop the balloon of grandiosity. Do we get it? No. Just a brief reply, worthy of the not so brief Jordan Peterson: 'Don't worry about humanity all the time. Get your own life in order'.
Another Woman is so full of self recriminations, confessions, regrets, that one yearns for a character like Maureen Stapleton to cheer them all up, reconcile them to life's disappointments; to do the comedian's job. 'Tell funnier jokes', urged the Martians in Allen's film Stardust Memories (1980). Even if he couldn't find enough meaning in his comedy, others have. He should have made more of an effort to get to know them. In the end his character Marion does, but it's a tedious journey watching her get there.
'No, no more', Marion says around the hour mark. My sentiments exactly.