Woody Allen has been making a movie a year for over 35 years, many of them classics, so when his work doesn't quite live of to those standards, it seems as if critics pan those efforts instead of giving them the fair shake they deserve. This was one of those films, and upon watching it I was surprised was a nice little exercise in filmmaking it was, even if it wasn't a towering achievement. A man in his seventies has just left his wife of 40 years in order to regain his youth. This he does by tanning, working out relentlessly, and keeping the company of a young, ditzy call girl. The elderly couples daughter's marriage to a medical school doctor turned failed writer is failing. His latest book is about to flop and he has developed feelings for the pretty Indian musician across the courtyard while his wife has developed similar feelings for her boss at the art gallery she works at. All of this has been foreseen by the mother's fortune teller, who she believes wholeheartedly is the real deal. Allen returns to London for this film, and it is another combination of drama and his particular brand of humor. Anthony Hopkins as the born again father is a hoot, and I was laughing out loud watching him hit the weights in the gym and romancing his 20 something girlfriend at the dance club. Josh Brolin's character's resolution is quite humorous and inspired, and Naomi Watts is wonderful as his wife. The annual Woody Allen offering is something I await with anticipation, and when that old time music starts to play over those white on black opening credits, I know I'm in for something special.
