Melinda and Melinda
“The situation is perfect. He’s despondent. He’s desperate. He’s suicidal. All the comic elements are in place.” This paradoxical claim comes in the middle of Woody Allen’s Melinda and Melinda. Four New Yorkers are having a dinner conversation about “the essence of life.” Is it fundamentally tragic or comic? Sy (Wallace Shawn) avers it’s comic and Al (Neil Pepe) argues it’s tragic. To help settle the dispute, Max (Larry Pine) offers a story about a disheveled woman who crashes a dinner party. Sy and Al are asked to decide whether it is the stuff of tragedy or comedy. Throughout the genial dispute, Louise (Stephanie Roth Haberle) maintains the middle ground, ultimately closing the argument with the assertion that it all is in the eye of the beholder.
Allen is going big here. His story is well-thought out. However, the main problem is that the characters deliver their lines like it is. The dinner discussion feels less extemporaneous than scripted, and the actors’ deliveries do not help. Still, the film is enjoyable as the story of Melinda is framed by the diners’ commentary on it.
The Melinda of both stories is played by Radha Mitchell. She flawlessly alternates between her two roles. For the comic half she dresses softly, wearing her hair as a nice, sweet, simple bob. For the tragedy, though, she’s high maintenance. She’s all class, but she can barely decide what sort of elegant attire to sport as she questions every style and every style’s affect on a man.
Allen wisely chose to develop the story by cutting back and forth between each perspective. The viewer is not asked to watch two completed stories twice, but to see them as two sides of the same coin, one darker than the other. As the two strands continue to entwine, the comic and tragic elements seem less mutually exclusive. Tragedy’s shadow darkens the lighter tale, and the dark tale elicits some light laughs. Often Allen characteristically exaggerates the tragedy to points of hilarity. It becomes obvious that our comprehensions of life depend upon our perspectives. Allen furthers this point by showing how our perceptions can dictate our actions, which largely determine the nature of our lives. While some character’s can accept their tragedies and find ways to move on, Melinda of the curls cannot. Ultimately, she is left with herself and only a major overhaul of her perspective can save her from tragedy.
Between the two narrative approaches the comedy takes precedence, simply because it is more enjoyable. Will Ferrell steals the show as Hobie, another Woody Allen surrogate. The fact that he’s an odd fit for the role makes him all the more enjoyable since his comedy emanates from fitting in nowhere with any grace. Critics may pick at Allen’s ill-fitting dialogue, as in Ferrell’s confession of guilt: “I dream of myself kissing Melinda and then I’m immediately on trial at Nuremberg.” But it’s the incongruity that creates the laughs. Little is funnier than when Hobie takes Melinda to the same place Ellis Moonsong (Chiwetel Ejiofor) wooed both the other Melinda and Laurel (played charmingly by Chloe Sevigny). Rather than suavely deliver poetic insight, Hobie fumbles with his words, providing the worst quotation of the year. Moreover, Allen allows Ferrell ample opportunity for his quirky flourishes. Hobie wears a name badge at the hospital while Melinda gets a tic removed in a scene reminiscent of the spider incident in Annie Hall. Indeed, their love story catches a sparkle off that seminal gem.
Allen’s film often strays from reality. A.O. Scott has noted its quality of “real estate pornography,” satisfying the audience’s desires for pricey, well-decorated lofts in an era of unemployment and inflation. Hobie is out of work yet he manages to spend a day at the races and buy Melinda an Art Deco pin worth $150, but that’s the fun of the film. It’s unabashedly fantastic. Allen’s villains can be sleazy dentists who call the weather sexy and his couples can civilly plan divorce even while one of them is lying in bed with the new lover.
Allen’s film is strongest when it takes flight from reality. This is partly due to Allen’s absurdist humor but also to the cliché nature of the more serious parts. The film might propose an analysis of the “essence of life,” but it offers nothing new to anybody who has made it through adolescence. Besides this one short-coming, the film is strong.
It contains memorable lines we can expect from Allen, superb acting, interesting characters, an involving story, and moments of Allen’s brand of comedy, which any fan will enjoy and makes the film deserving of a B.
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