Deconstructing Harry
I have no social life, so I spend most weekends watching TLC, trying to identify why I have such a terrifying attraction to the overly perky Paige Davis. Unfortunately, now that TLC has developed an army of terrible reality shows, they no longer play Trading Spaces and While You Were Out marathons every single weekend, so when there was nothing else on, I decided to watch Woody Allen’s Deconstructing Harry, which I’d never seen before.
This movie was conceived and made during the bloody aftermath of the Mia Farrow/Soon-Yi Previn disaster, and boy does it ever show. Allen plays Harry Block, a nightmare vision of his usual persona — a narcissistic, foul-mouthed, hard-drinking, pill-popping, borderline psychotic infidel whose primary crisis throughout the film is separating his life from the world of fiction. He’s a writer who can’t function in life, so he creates completely separate, fictional universes where he can survive, because he can have complete control over everything. And he always comes out the hero.
The plot is a pretty loose excuse to introduce as many characters from Block’s life as possible, to show us his personality, and to show us how he “fixes” the events of his life in his books. Harry is being honored by the university that kicked him out so many years ago, so he needs to go upstate to accept the award. He also needs to find somebody to go up there with him, so he won’t be alone.
Block pathetically trudges from person to person and intersperses that with vignettes from his novels and stories, portraying Block’s idealized life and comparing it to his actual life. In his actual life, he’s alienated every person he’s ever met, with the exception of his son (who shouts “Fuck God!” and “Pussy Pounder!” at his mother), a hooker, and a hypochondriac. He uses every moment from his life as fodder for his books, not caring about the real-life consequences of his writing.
In the end, Harry goes to Upstate with the hooker, the hypochondriac, and the son (whom he kidnaps). He makes pit stops at a restaurant where he and his second wife got into an enormous fight, at his sister’s house, and he ends up talking to characters from his books, who give him a glimpse of how the consequences of his actions affected those around him. It’s basically the anti-It’s a Wonderful Life.
When Block shows up at the campus with a hooker, his kidnapped son, and the hypochondriac (who, it seems, was not a hypochondriac — he died on the trip), he is almost immediately arrested by his most recent ex-wife (played by Kirstie Alley, who was surprisingly non-annoying) and jailed until his ex-girlfriend (Elisabeth Shue) shows up with her new husband (Billy Crystal), and everything ends happily.
This is easily Allen’s most hate-filled movie, which is saying something, and it’s probably his most personal in many ways. I also think it’s his best. It’s a black comedy, but very little of it is played for laughs. It’s funny as hell, but unlike most of Allen’s comedies, nobody is ever really hammering home a joke, and when they do, it’s incredibly offensive. It also evokes an incredibly somber tone. Even then “happy ending” is pathetic, because Harry never learns anything. He just keeps chugging long. If anything, he’s worse than he was when the film began (with an ex-lover trying to shoot him).
The thing I admired most about it is the fact that, through all the bad shit that happens in the movie, all of it is Harry Block’s fault. This isn’t an autobiographical movie specifying the personal details of his imploded relationships that points the fingers at everybody else; he blames himself, and he probably should. He’s also essentially telling viewers what he really believes: that he can function in art, but not in life, so get off his fucking back already.
I also love the way Allen tackles the subject matter, but I don’t want to say much because I think it’d ruin the effect that it has. All I’ll say is, he tackles this theme — of people who are able to function only through art — which is as old as Aristophanes, and he probably crafts the best film around it that I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a whole assload of movies on the subject (I don’t think many European directors are aware that there are other subjects to tackle).
Rating: **** (out of 4)
Posted by Stan on March 16, 2003 5:12 PM | Permalink | Reviews | Digg It
Post a Comment
Powered by Ajax Comments