I wouldn't be surprised if he Had simply decided to make films about absolutely nothing, bad acting, Completely empty, just to laugh at all of us fools that still believe he can make something good.
That's really sad. For us. But especially for him.
It wasn't about nothing. It was about timing.
I took the subway to Wayne Station and Batwalked up the road.
Not sure if you are trolling, or not. Doesn't matter, because I absolutely agree with you.
I took me some time to realize this was one of the worst movies I've seen in a while. If it wasn't for the name of Woody Allen, I would've came to this realization a lot sooner.
I didn't care for it either. I hope he has another masterpiece in him, like Manhattan or Purple Rose of Cairo, Radio Days, Hannah and her Sisters... He's missing a muse, like Diane Keaton or Mia Farrow.
Stiffy must really be scratching the bottom of his famous drawer if he thought this tired non-entity of a story was worth the bother. It's just one big nostalgia trip, a flimsy excuse to revel in period decor, lavish sets and fancy costumes - because there sure as hell did not seem to be any other reason why it all had to take place in the late 1930's. All just window dressing for a love story lacking any urgency or punch - as is the ultra-gorgeous cinematography that pretty much crosses the border to outright kitch. And it remains entirely unclear as to what the whole business with Eisenberg's gangster brother was doing in this film - except, in the end, to provide an opportunity to muse over the broader existential matters without which no Stiffy movie is ever complete. It certainly had no connection with Eisenberg's story and was waaay to brief and episodic to stand on its own. The same, by and large, goes for the whole family - it's like an alien sideshow imported from a different movie.
"facts are stupid things" Ronald Reagan