Well guess what? It's Woody Allen as "Isaac" - a man facing a series of mid-life crises whilst trying to write a book. He's not the only one. Ex-wife turned lesbian "Jill" (Meryl Streep) is planning on writing her own kiss-and-tell (or more likely a punch-and-tell) whilst still getting her alimony and her attitude isn't gonna change when he starts dating a woman less than half of his age. She is the impressionable "Tracy" (Mariel Hemingway) who is enamoured of her perception of this older man but whom we can quickly establish is going to end up disappointed. That might be because he sees little future in a relationship with a schoolgirl, and so turns his attentions to the journalist "Mary" (Diane Keaton) who just happens to be dallying with his married best pal "Yale" (Michael Murphy). She's a bit aloof and rather full of herself, but he is still determined to pursue - regardless, or perhaps because of the collateral damage this may cause to the relationships. It's all set against the hustle and bustle of an island that has provided him with the basis for his book, but with his personal life something of a maelstrom, will he ever get it written? Will he find love? Essentially I found this to be a beautifully photographed self-indulgence exercise that exposes a selfish and rather flawed human being to an audience without really bothering to get us to care about him. indeed, possibly the only character here worth a nickel is the idealist "Tracy" who is clearly out of her emotional depth from the start. Hemingway really does encapsulate the vulnerabilities and the optimism of the role well but the rest of this is a rather cynical evaluation of a societal obsession with seeking but never actually wanting satisfaction. The accompanying music from George Gershwin brings a classic 1920s feel to the monochrome imagery and the film undoubtedly looks and sounds glorious when we are not being bombarded by a slew of dry verbiage that tries it's hand at entertaining us now and again, but just misses the mark all too often for me. Art imitating life or vice versa? I didn't really care.
