Could this finally be the end of Woody Allen?

28 January 2018 - 00:00 By JENNY MCCARTNEY

Until recently, the chance to work with the writer, director, actor and stand-up comedian Woody Allen was one that most performers would jump at, with established stars routinely accepting a fraction of their usual fee for a role in one of his films.
The durability of 82-year-old Allen's success in a precarious industry has been extraordinary: he has won four Academy Awards, three for best original screenplay and one for best director (Annie Hall), and been recognised with a string of nominations.
Artistically, he has appeared untouchable, despite increasingly mixed critical fortunes and the personal scandal that has dogged him for decades - chiefly, the allegation of child molestation against his adopted daughter Dylan Farrow.For years, his quirkiness has worked in his favour, as has his relentless work ethic. Say Allen's name and a very particular world comes to mind: where wit and anxiety, flirtation and complication intermingle, all channelled through the persona of a melancholic, hypochondriac Jewish New Yorker who is a sucker for jazz, twinkling lights and bittersweet, bickering romance.
Meanwhile, Allen's love of routine has long meant that devotees were supplied with regular hits: he plays clarinet every Monday night at New York's Carlyle Hotel, and he famously makes a film a year, come hell, high water or a run of bad reviews.
Yet now there are signs that Allen's career may, finally, be about to hit the rocks. It will not be because of the recent string of indifferently received films. Allen's diehard fans and critics routinely forgive him his failures, in homage both to the enduring strength of his earlier work - films such as Annie Hall and Manhattan still regularly top best-loved film lists - and his ability still to pull occasional surprise hits out of the bag, such as 2013's Blue Jasmine.
The danger for Allen comes instead from a different direction: the growing outspokenness of his adopted daughter Dylan, now 32, who continues to allege, ever more vocally, that he molested her.The nature of the accusations against Allen have been public knowledge since his acrimonious child custody battle with Mia Farrow in the early '90s, when Farrow alleged that he had behaved in an inappropriately obsessive and sexual manner around Dylan, and accused him of molesting the child. But the official findings on whether this had indeed happened were inconclusive, and no prosecution of Allen was forthcoming.
It's worth noting that the Allen case is different, in many regards, from that of Harvey Weinstein. While there are multiple accusations of abuse in a professional context against Weinstein, there are none against Allen, who appears to have had a respectful working relationship with actors on set.
But, while the alleged facts of the case have not changed in 25 years, the climate around it has. Post #MeToo, society is now more sympathetic, and filmgoers are confused about how to deal with the legacy of one of cinema's best-loved icons.
As things stand, it seems possible that Allen's directorial career could be over. The question also arises of how we should view his oeuvre. Is it possible to separate the man from the art, especially in cases where the man - presented as a lovable, tormented, wisecracking Everyman - remains so central to it?
The trouble in Allen's case is that many of his films echo themes from his life, notably those that deal with the disruptive effect of sexual desire within a family setting, or the attraction of an older man to a much younger woman.
In Manhattan, Allen's 42-year-old character has an affair with a 17-year-old (Mariel Hemingway), while his forthcoming romantic comedy, A Rainy Day in New York, reportedly features a middle-aged married man (Jude Law) engaged in a sexual relationship with a character played by Elle Fanning, whose tender age is part of a plot twist.The controversy surrounding the director does not invalidate Allen's films, but it will inevitably complicate how we see them. I watched Annie Hall again recently, in which the comedian Alvy Singer (Allen) reflects on his lost love affair with the scatty, unforgettable Annie (Diane Keaton). The performance, the lines and the immortal lobster scene were as fresh and funny as ever, its sweetly nostalgic charm was intact, and yet the experience carried an unintended layer of sadness.
Out there, beyond the enchanted borders of Allen's clever, beguiling fictions, a darker, messier reality had lost its innocence. 
- The Daily Telegraph, London..

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