February 21, 2013
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If you’re not a Woody Allen fan, subtract one point from the above rating. If you are an Allenite, you’ll still be forced to file To Rome with Love among his minor works.
Sure, Hollywood’s mostly do. But here’s why I can’t agree cinema is over.
Woody Allen’s latest very much feels like a bunch of half-baked ideas the auteur has been working on since he started out: a mortician who can only sing opera sublimely in the shower, an ordinary man (Roberto Benigni) who is thrust into the spotlight for no good reason.
After a first hour every bit as dreary as Quantum of Solace, this wildly successful slice of Bond (above) is rescued by Ben Whishaw’s amiable Q and by a bonkers turn (Brando in The Missouri Breaks springs to mind) from Javier Bardem as the vengeful former 00-agent hell-bent on offing M (Judi Dench).
It’s bad enough that the lifts don’t work, but now an unknown sniper is picking off the occupants of a bleak tower block.
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