DEAR, WOODY,

WE REALLY HAVE TO TALK

Once again I must kvetch. Jasmine is not your usual Woody Allen film.  Actually since the last century there has not been a usual Woody film; that is, one with the belly laugh type of humor that attracted me to you.

Please be clear Mr. Woody; it is not that I do not want you to grow as a person or as filmmaker.

But consider this;

Does Toyota assemble underwear?

Does Hagen-Daz make Formica tables?

Every one has a specialty and generally stays with it, perhaps ever so gently exploring other fields.  Not you.  You have possibly and perhaps only in my opinion, partially relinquished what is truly the best part of you. Being one of the funniest people and judge of the neurosis’s of humans that ever was.  Freud was a piker compared to you.

I do not mean to be critical.  I must point out that I truly adore you. Frankly, till my laser surgery I only dated men who resembled you.

In truth, it is really a wonderful film though I did get a little nauseous with the constant past and present switching. Then again I ran out of mustard and put mayo on my pastrami snack that I snuck into the theater. Those two ingredients should never be in the same room at the same time according to folk lore. So maybe it wasn't you.

In this film we see stunning homes in Manhattan and the Hamptons that I would move into this minute if we were together.

As usual, your choice of music is divine and spot on.  I was almost removed from the theater as I danced and swirled across the aisles.

No doubt you are a master at casting, as well. The choice of Andrew Dice Clay (who could have ever imagined) who did, by the way, an excellent job, and the always terrific Bobby Cannavale, were genius choices.

The film is both intriguing and heart breaking. One can’t help thinking of the Madoff mess no matter your intention.

Yet, brilliant as it was it had no chuckles which is part of my attraction to you; and of course the physical thing.

What does linger in this whole viewing experience is probably the best acting ever in this century with your choice of the luminous Cate Blanchett who should receive an Oscar, Emmy, a Cronut, two snaps and any other award in existence.

Getting back to my emotions.

We have so much in common, Woody.

Both of us are Brooklyn born. I too, had Friday Family Fun night where my folks exchanged gun fire or gum at the weekly ritual depending on how the brisket browned.

It is well known that certain disagreements about white fish caused massive violence in your own home. Well, my grandma almost perished while weighing a perch and we switched to Sashimi on Shabbes, which was so traumatic.  Woody, it is as if we are twins.

I‘ve been silent until now, because of the NSA’s involvement with the IRS and the FCC’s plus their conflict with the rest of the alphabet.  I say PU!  I am now taking a stand.

So about Jasmine: you should know I had to coerce my lover to attend the movie with me and he promptly went into a coma until the gorgeous radiant Cate Blanchette appeared.  Such magnificence. She is one of the truly finest actors of all time.  He particularly loved her shoes.

Your recent movies are interesting and so are you.  I miss my old Woody, though. Let us settle this.  I want to help you discover when you had your laughectomy.

Come to California.  Cheese fondling is no longer a felony in LA, so you will not be apprehended.

Finally my dear friend; funny is what you do better than anyone. So..do it already. I am going Bananas here. Don’t make me get up, Woody. I have a gub.

Love, Jan

PS. I have seen Hana and her sisters seven times, but you …I never hear from!       

THE END

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