‘To love is to suffer…’
I’m a firm believer that it is possible to separate the art from the artist. A great film, or album or painting is a great film, album or painting. As soon as something is created and sent out to the world, it belongs to the people. I’ve watched much of Woody Allen’s major work and enjoyed a lot of it. Now, I’m not here to debate the various insidious charges laid at Allen’s door, but whilst watching Love and Death, they become impossible to ignore…
In czarist Russia, Boris, a neurotic soldier (Allen) plots with his distant cousin and lover Sonja (Diane Keaton) to murder Napoleon. Really; however, this plot is just an excuse for endless philosophising and seemingly hundreds of pithy one liners.
And like much of Allen’s work, it is funny. And it’s interesting. It features many of his directorial tics – absurdist dialogue, breaking the fourth wall, soliloquizing – but it is also obsessed with sex and smutty jokes (one particular line about 12-year-old blonde girls would be difficult to stomach even without taking into account the allegations against Allen).
Despite being influential (this film predates Airplane! by five years but has a very similar comedic style), Love and Death is uncomfortable viewing at times, although it must be said that Keaton is wonderful throughout, adding a sweetness and warmth which serves as a contrast to Allen’s morbid neurosis. As for Allen’s own influences, he parodies both the films of Ingmar Bergman and Russian Literature here, but often these parodical moments are too self-conscious to really land.
Love and Death is a good film. It’s funny, compelling and unique. Your enjoyment of it will depend on how much you can separate Allen’s work from his acts. On this particular film, I struggled.