(Which Looks a Lot Like Neurosis When You're Surrounded by Nutcases)
During the film Manhattan, Isaac (played by Woody Allen) walks down the street with his girlfriend Tracy, his friend Yale, and Yale's mistress Mary (played by Diane Keaton). Mary is laughingly listing off her nominees for a special list of overrated artists which she and Yale are compiling, and when she mentions Ingmar Bergman, she hits a nerve. Isaac has thus far tried to ignore/avoid this highly nervous and annoying woman, but Bergman, Bergman he has to stick up for. He states unequivocally that Bergman is one of the only real geniuses in cinema. Sounding exasperated and maybe even a little bored, Mary replies:
"His view is so Scandinavian. It's bleak. My God, I mean all that Kierkegaard, right? Real adolescent, you know, fashionable pessimism. I mean the silence, God's silence. Okay, okay, okay. I mean I loved it when I was at Radcliffe, but I mean alright, you outgrow it... Don't you see, don't you guys see, that it is the dignifying of one's own psychological and sexual hangups by attaching them to these grandiose philosophical issues. That's what it is."
So on the subject of psychological and sexual hangups...
The funny thing about this movie to me was that I ended it feeling like Isaac (yes, that's Woody Allen's character) was the sanest person in the whole thing. It made me realize how much I come to Allen's movies with expectations about how crazy/neurotic his characters are.
Don't get me wrong: Allen is the perennial nebbish. (Sidenote: learn this fun word! Learn it, and use it!) He mutters constantly, wanders physically and verbally, and while we might tend to find it funny, the truth is that little he says is very important or meaningful. And he's sort of pathetic, with his novel writing, and his own terror at the one decisive action he takes during the movie, leaving his miserable job.
But I couldn't help feeling some shared suffering with Isaac. He is fixedly moral, but he is driven to being almost obsessively so by the lack of morality around him. Everyone around him seems to think the solution to confused morality is to relax and not get so wound up. Meanwhile, Yale is cheating on his wife, Mary announces that she and Yale are going to move in together, and when Isaac points out that Yale is going to destroy his marriage for something that can't make it past two weeks, Mary (all shock) says, "Two weeks! I can't think that far into the future!"
I should probably mention that Isaac is something like 42 years old, and his girlfriend is 17. Okay, okay, okay. I know this is frowned upon for a million reasons. All I can say in my defense is that, like Isaac, I'm pretty committed to the idea of fidelity in marriage, and when I was 17, I was no fool about men. If I'd had a relationship with a 42 year old man, I would probably just grow up to be vaguely embarrassed by how wrinkly he was.
I wonder what it says about me that I think Isaac is the sane one in this movie. He certainly seems to have the smallest number of psychological and sexual hangups. He's just awkward, and I can confirm one bit of his experience: nothing will drive a slightly-more-morally-strict-than-average person to the deep end of self-righteous isolation and judgment faster than a bunch of loosey-goosey heathens who destroy themselves while insisting they're having a good time.
During the film Manhattan, Isaac (played by Woody Allen) walks down the street with his girlfriend Tracy, his friend Yale, and Yale's mistress Mary (played by Diane Keaton). Mary is laughingly listing off her nominees for a special list of overrated artists which she and Yale are compiling, and when she mentions Ingmar Bergman, she hits a nerve. Isaac has thus far tried to ignore/avoid this highly nervous and annoying woman, but Bergman, Bergman he has to stick up for. He states unequivocally that Bergman is one of the only real geniuses in cinema. Sounding exasperated and maybe even a little bored, Mary replies:
"His view is so Scandinavian. It's bleak. My God, I mean all that Kierkegaard, right? Real adolescent, you know, fashionable pessimism. I mean the silence, God's silence. Okay, okay, okay. I mean I loved it when I was at Radcliffe, but I mean alright, you outgrow it... Don't you see, don't you guys see, that it is the dignifying of one's own psychological and sexual hangups by attaching them to these grandiose philosophical issues. That's what it is."
So on the subject of psychological and sexual hangups...
The funny thing about this movie to me was that I ended it feeling like Isaac (yes, that's Woody Allen's character) was the sanest person in the whole thing. It made me realize how much I come to Allen's movies with expectations about how crazy/neurotic his characters are.
Don't get me wrong: Allen is the perennial nebbish. (Sidenote: learn this fun word! Learn it, and use it!) He mutters constantly, wanders physically and verbally, and while we might tend to find it funny, the truth is that little he says is very important or meaningful. And he's sort of pathetic, with his novel writing, and his own terror at the one decisive action he takes during the movie, leaving his miserable job.
But I couldn't help feeling some shared suffering with Isaac. He is fixedly moral, but he is driven to being almost obsessively so by the lack of morality around him. Everyone around him seems to think the solution to confused morality is to relax and not get so wound up. Meanwhile, Yale is cheating on his wife, Mary announces that she and Yale are going to move in together, and when Isaac points out that Yale is going to destroy his marriage for something that can't make it past two weeks, Mary (all shock) says, "Two weeks! I can't think that far into the future!"
I should probably mention that Isaac is something like 42 years old, and his girlfriend is 17. Okay, okay, okay. I know this is frowned upon for a million reasons. All I can say in my defense is that, like Isaac, I'm pretty committed to the idea of fidelity in marriage, and when I was 17, I was no fool about men. If I'd had a relationship with a 42 year old man, I would probably just grow up to be vaguely embarrassed by how wrinkly he was.
I wonder what it says about me that I think Isaac is the sane one in this movie. He certainly seems to have the smallest number of psychological and sexual hangups. He's just awkward, and I can confirm one bit of his experience: nothing will drive a slightly-more-morally-strict-than-average person to the deep end of self-righteous isolation and judgment faster than a bunch of loosey-goosey heathens who destroy themselves while insisting they're having a good time.
