ALICE (Woody Allen, 1990) R

Reviewed: April 28th, 2002

Alice is not one of Woody Allen's best films, but it's one of his most daring, proving beyond any doubts the nearly unprecedented freedom which Allen is continually afforded. Pic stars Mia Farrow as a rich, unhappy woman who embarks on a journey of self-discovery. While not a novel logline, the little touches and twists Allen provides are outrageously original (for instance: it's a magical acupuncturist who sends Farrow on her voyage via herbs that make her by turns, invisible, completely sexually uninhibited, able to fly, haunted by ghosts and the object of all men's desires). Allen quickly and effectively establishes the odd world in which Alice unfolds, and from that point forward, Allen isn't afraid to go anywhere this woman's journey might take her. There are elaborate dream sequences which work equally well as efficient characterization and surreal setpieces. There is a scene in which Farrow dances with the ghost of Alec Baldwin, a past lover. On the soundtrack plays a series of dialogue soundbytes from various moments in their relationship, all the way from when they first met, to their breakup. It's a brilliant idea to condense an entire relationship into a few minutes of soundtrack and Allen pulls it off perfectly. One of the trickiest parts of filmmaking is conveying characters' histories without resorting to easy exposition or clichéd generalities. Allen must be particularly careful with his movies given his often sprawling casts and their complex interrelationships. Through devices like this soundbyting, Allen proves himself always a step ahead of the pack, still figuring out innovative ways to advance character and plot.

What I like most about a movie like Alice, is that as a viewer, I'm never complacent. The majority of films follow so many conventions from the opening scene forward, they render themselves impotent by the twenty-minute mark. Since most films never even attempt to break free from their creative prisons, I frequently find myself settling into my seat, disheartened by the knowledge that I know exactly where I'm gonna be at the close of the first two acts and I'm certain the ending's gonna be all ribbons and bows. But The Greatest Filmmakers Club (of which Allen is a premiere member) convey anything-is-possible worlds. Be it nuclear explosions, portals into John Malkovich's brain, frogs falling from the sky or alien spaceships visiting killers on death row, nothing's out of reach and everything's fair game. All told, Alice is whimsical and fairly light, but light Allen is still preferable to the richest works of other filmmakers.

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