Review by Pamela Zoslov
In his nearly
50-year directing career, Woody Allen has emulated Bergman, Fellini,
Cassavetes, Fritz Lang and other masters. In his new film, BLUE JASMINE, Allen unexpectedly tears a page from Tennessee Williams, a
playwright with whom he shares an interest in vivid female
characters.
(A brief aside: I
once published an essay defending Allen against a snarky film
critic's denunciation of him as outrageously sexist. This opinion was
presumably based in large part on his unorthodox personal life —
call it the Polanski Perplex. But whatever one thinks of Allen's past
conduct, the fact is that few filmmakers have created better or more
complex roles for women. Just after I wrote these words, the New
York Times published an article on this very subject.)
With Blue Jasmine,
Allen presents one of his best female characters to date. His Blanche
DuBois is Jasmine (Cate Blanchett), a pampered Manhattan socialite,
now fallen on hard times, who decamps to the cramped apartment of her
poorer sister, Ginger. Jasmine clashes with her sister's brutish
lover (Bobby Cannavale), as she did with Ginger's equally rough
ex-husband (comedian Andrew Dice Clay, an inspired bit of casting).
Although she has
no money or prospects, Jasmine – born Jeanette, a name she found
too ordinary — glides around with the snooty airs of her erstwhile
status, much like Blanche DuBois. She is nervous and unsteady, given
to talking to herself in public, attracting stares. She pops Xanax
and guzzles vodka (“...[L]apping it up all summer like a wildcat,”
as Stanley Kowalski said of sister-in-law Blanche.) Blancett is
perfect and convincingly American. It seems there's little she can't
do, whether portraying Queen Elizabeth I or Bob Dylan. Blanchett
inhabits this complicated character with élan. Jasmine is snobby and
deluded, but she's also sympathetic.
As Stella to this
elegant, Chanel-clad Blanche, Allen has cast another British actress,
the wonderful Sally Hawkins (MADE IN DAGENHAM). They are two sisters
of different parents, raised by the same adoptive family. The
friendly, toothy Ginger, who works as a grocery cashier, is sanguine
about her humble status. She's content to eat takeout pizza with
Chili, her boisterous lug of a boyfriend. She's content, at least
until Jasmine hectors her about her bad wardrobe and her tendency to
settle for “losers.”
With her patrician
bone structure and perfect designer clothes, Jasmine is a striking
figure, though she's clearly unstable. The opening scene has her
talking the ear off her seatmate on an airliner headed for San
Francisco, telling her unlucky fellow passenger at length how she met
her dashing husband Hal, and how fantastic their sex life was. Hal
(Alec Baldwin, in a role perfectly tailored for him) was a brash,
extravagant investor. The film artfully weaves Jasmine's present
life, trying to rebuild her life after the traumatic ending of her
marriage, and scenes from her old life of lavish parties, beach
houses, yachts, European travel, and surprise gifts of diamond
jewelry from Hal, meant to distract her from his many affairs.
Jasmine's friends knew about Hal's philandering, but Jasmine,
enjoying the “perks” of her marriage, looked the other way. She
also never questioned his business practices, even when one of his
shady investments cost Ginger and her husband their nest egg.
Laid low after the
collapse of Hal's empire, Jasmine is at a loss. She once studied to
be an anthropologist, but now has to settle for a receptionist job in
a a dentist's office, where she's all but chased around a desk by Dr.
Flicker (Michael Stuhlbarg of A SERIOUS MAN).
She vaguely aspires to be an interior designer, but is unable to
master basic computer skills. This career business being so full of
obstacles, she pursues the only course familiar to her. Like a
post-millennial Lorelei Lee, Jasmine looks for a wealthy man to
marry. She also draws Ginger into this scheme, and both meet men at
an upscale party — Ginger's is apparent nice guy Al (comedian Louis
C.K.), and Jasmine's is a Kennedyesque aspiring politician, Dwight
(Peter Sarsgaard).
Allen seems
fascinated by the contrast between high and low-life, and his
depictions of each segment are sometimes exaggerated – the elites
too stiff and arid (CRIMES AND MISDEMEANORS), the
ruffians too comically stupid (SMALL TIME CROOKS).
In this film, they mix in interesting ways. The rough candor of Cannavale's Chili punctures
Jasmine's lofty self-image (“This is a big comedown for you.”),
while Jasmine's urbanity reminds Ginger that there are men
who wouldn't consider ripping a telephone out of a wall, as Chili
(what a name!) does in a jealous rage.
These contrasting types make an entertaining mosaic. This brisk, lively character study of a woman on
the edge is the most satisfying Woody Allen film in many years. 4 out of 4 stars.
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