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It's not his best, but Hannah and Her Sisters is definitely Woody Allen's second best. The film does
everything a Woody film should -- it deals with complex issues in a hilarious way. Up this time, as the
title suggests, is the notion of family, as Allen skewers a dysfunctional clan led by three sisters (Mia
Farrow, Dianne Wiest, and Barbara Hershey) and the rotten men the come in and out of their lives.
Allen plays his neurotic self to perfection, this time a hypochondriac TV executive and ex-husband of
Hannah (Farrow). Michael Caine, though, steals the show as Hannah's current husband who falls in
love with sister Lee (Hershey), herself living with an aging, pedantic shut-in (Max von Sydow).
The acting is sublime, but the little touches push Hannah to greatness. Allen's photographic
compositions are among his best ever here, spying on Caine as he makes eyes at Hershey from afar
while we play along with the game. His musical selections, always impeccable, are fantastic here, with
Harry James' trumpet music belting out the emotion.
An unequivocal classic (and winner of three Oscars -- for Wiest, Caine, and Allen's screenplay) that
any Allen fan must own. Or anyone with a family, for that matter.
Part of The Woody Allen Collection, Set 3.
Hannah & Her Sisters
1 9 8 6 (USA)
Constructed in short chapters, with a rainbow spectrum of characters taking
turns as narrators, Hannah and Her Sisters paints a picture of contemporary
New York life, exposing sadness and joy and the ritual of self-discovery in
every brushstroke.
The plot spreads over three Thanksgivings at the spacious Central Park West
apartment of Hannah (Farrow), with she and her sisters Lee (Hershey) and
Holly (Wiest) as the centrepieces.
The children of Bohemian show-biz parents who spar endlessly and endure
their children's crises superficially, the girls are rivals, friends, and catalysts,
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pervasive Chekhovian sense that I'm sure is quite intentional, though the plot doesn't remotely resemble that of
"The Three Sisters", nor does it repeat the Bergmanesque gloom of Allen's own "Interiors" (also about three
sisters). Rather, this film covers two years in the lives of a large cast of characters focused primarily on three
sisters, all part of the New Yorker intelligentsia, whether real or aspiring, who live in the trendier Manhattan
neighborhoods. Family Thanksgiving dinners frame the story effectively, and a dinner in the middle of the film
acts as a turning point for several lives. It's a predictable structure but beautifully executed.
The sisters, of course, are completely different in character and temperament. Family gatekeeper Hannah is
married to Elliot, a business manager in the entertainment industry. Tiring of her self-reliance, he falls in love
with her sister Lee, the free-spirited beauty living in an expansive SoHo loft with Frederick, a bitter and
emotionally co-dependent artist. Hannah herself used to be married to Mickey, a successful comedy TV
producer and a hypochondriac who goes through a crisis in faith once he frees himself of a fictitious, selfdiagnosed brain tumor. But through a chance second meeting long after a very bad first date, Mickey gets
reacquainted with Holly, the third sister, an insecure, self-conscious actress-turned-caterer-turned writer and a
recovering cocaine addict. Add to this unwieldy mix the sisters' parents, a pair of ham-fisted show business
veterans dealing with years of alcoholism, adultery and verbal abuse. How these seemingly disparate characters
interact yields the true beauty of this film, thanks to Allen's unmistakable technique as a New York-loving
filmmaker and his sharply drawn script, which alternates easily between funny and poignant. Seeing this film
nearly twenty years later lends even more interesting insight, as one can see how Allen must have viewed Mia
Farrow at the time as Hannah, the nurturer of an extended brood, the "perfect" wife and mother, always there to
comfort those in her orbit, even though her insistent good will could be a source of resentment for those she
helps. Allen explored these alienating traits to even more virulent results in his final film with Farrow, 1992's
"Husbands and Wives".
Never that intriguing an actress otherwise (though Allen seems to bring out her depth), Farrow makes Hannah
credible not only in her inherited role as the family's Rock of Gibraltar but also in her dawning self-awareness.
Michael Caine is terrific as Elliott, a comical manipulator masquerading as a romantic, and Barbara Hershey
effortlessly portrays Lee as the conflicted earth mother/sex symbol figure her character demands her to be.
Allen plays Mickey as, of course, Allen, but with an increasing romanticism as he becomes drawn to Holly.
With such keen competition, the cast standout is Dianne Wiest as Holly in an adventuresome performance as a
character you hate one minute and like the next all in line with her barely tolerable erratic nature. Smaller roles
are filled expertly by Max Von Sydow perfectly convincing with his stentorian righteousness as Frederick;
Carrie Fisher as Holly's insidiously competitive girlfriend; Sam Waterson as an available, self-important
architect; and as the parents, Lloyd Nolan and a rather over-the-top Maureen O'Sullivan (Farrow's real mother).
You can even see Farrow's adopted daughter and Allen's future wife, Soon-Yi Previn, briefly as one of the
children at Thanksgiving.
It's a true family affair and an emotionally satisfying one with layers of complexity presented in subtle episodes
that feel truthful. The best example is the lunch table roundelay with the camera circling mercilessly around a
self-absorbed Holly, an ignorantly defensive Hannah and a guilt-stricken Lee, as their sisterly bonding seem to
disconnect and deconstruct before our very eyes. It's a masterful scene. Even Holly's veiled attempts to connect
with Mickey toward the end feel authentic and sweetly romantic, especially as one gets the sense that these two
oddballs have inadvertently found their soul-mates. While it is not as romantically intimate as "Annie Hall" or
as viscerally incisive as "Manhattan", "Hannah and Her Sisters" is Allen's most accomplished film, especially in
the breadth of characters experiencing their own dramatic, intersecting arcs, and it is sadly the last Allen film I
have enjoyed without condition