HANNAH AND HER SISTERS: Blu-ray (Orion 1986) Fox Home Entertainment
For many
years, and without adjustments made for inflation, Hannah and Her Sisters (1986) was Woody Allen’s most financially
successful comedy. Personally, I place about as much faith in box office
numbers as I do in Oscar tallies – that is to say, none. Popular films are just
that – popular. Some carry their initial flourish into the annals of history.
Others simply fade into obscurity once the zeitgeist of clever marketing has
cooled. A film’s financial successful is also often the result of audience anticipation.
As example, the $212,222,025 gross on Raiders
of the Lost Ark was eclipsed by Indiana
Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull’s $ 317,101,119, mostly due to
the hype and buzz generated for another installment in the series. But you
would be hard pressed to find someone claiming Crystal Skull is a better
movie than Raiders.
Few movies are
as charmingly dishonest about life, love and the search for the perfect
religion as Woody Allen’s Hannah and Her
Sisters; yet another quirky excursion into the fruitful imagination and
socio-psychoanalytical mindset of its creator. Allen, who has always been at
the cutting edge of esoteric reflections on contemporary American society,
delves deeply herein into the fundamentally flawed relationships of a triage of
sisters: the ever-stable/ever-loyal caregiver – Hannah (Mia Farrow), free-spirited
flirt, Lee (Barbara Hershey) and neurotic middle-aged scatterbrain, Holly
(Diane Wiest).
Yet Hannah and Her Sisters is middling
Woody Allen at best – undeniably amusing, but never quite rivaling his
masterworks; Annie Hall (1978) and Manhattan (1980). Allen’s intermingling
of three separate narrative arcs lacks his ingeniousness for integration:
Allen’s clever-cleverness infrequently becoming obvious for its own sake. There’s
nothing inherently misguided about Hannah
and Her Sisters, and yet nothing quite outstanding either. In hindsight,
which is always 20/20, the film seems an obvious extension of the Alvi Singer
character from Annie Hall – whatever
became of that obsessively overanxious and slightly cantankerous playwright,
toiling with great pains and even greater panged expressions over having to
debase his art to peddling it to the lowest common denominator as crass
commercialism. All well and good, except that Allen’s Mickey Sachs in Hannah and Her Sisters is hardly the
focus of the story. That’s a problem, as is Hannah herself (Mia Farrow); the
least interesting member of this familial sisterhood.
Our story
begins on Thanksgiving, at a cozy gathering of friends and family that include
Hannah, her husband, Elliot (Michael Caine) sisters Lee and Holly, and their
parents, Norma (Maureen O’Sullivan) and Evan (Lloyd Nolen) as well as a good
friend, April (Carrie Fisher). Norma and Evan are a couple of old time hams –
once the toast of Broadway – now comfortable in their old age and singing songs
from the time-honored repertoires of Cole Porter and Irving Berlin. Holly and
April have decided to go into a catering business together, despite Hannah
being the one with the culinary prowess. Hannah’s pursuits, however, are more
cerebral. She has just finished a successful off Broadway run of Ibsen’s A
Doll’s House – a role her mother once played on the stage. Having sewed
these artistic oats, Hannah is now content to return to domesticity with
Elliot.
Unfortunately
for Hannah, Elliot has designs on Lee, presently living with Frederick (Max von
Sydow); a cranky painter, existing mostly in a social vacuum of his own design,
with a heightened state of depression. Elliot is determined to seduce Lee, finagling an audience between Frederick and
one of his writer buddies (John Turturro) under the rouse that perhaps
Frederick will be able to sell a few of his canvasses. The boys don’t hit it
off, but Elliot does manage to make his intentions clear to Lee. She is at
first frightened, and then confused, but nevertheless intrigued enough to begin
an affair with Elliot at the St. Regis Hotel shortly thereafter.
In the
meantime, Holly has tapped Hannah for $2000 to start the Stanislavski Catering
Company with April. Their first gig is a success. The girls are introduced to
David (Sam Waterston) an architect who wastes no time taking Holly and April on
a whirlwind tour of Manhattan’s finer architectural achievements. Holly is
instantly smitten with David. But her insecurities get the better of her,
affording April the opportunity to pursue David for herself.
Hannah
sincerely worries about Holly – a recovering drug addict with a fragile ego
perpetually and precariously primed for a relapse. But Holly is much stronger
than either Hannah or Lee gives her credit. After dissolving their catering
partnership over David, Holly dabbles in several flawed career aspirations
before becoming a writer. Her first manuscript is met with great enthusiasm by
Mickey (Woody Allen); a TV producer/writer whom Holly once shared an utterly
disastrous blind date while still in her gay ol’ Bohemian days of snorting
cocaine and partying with punk rockers half her age.
Hannah’s
former husband, Mickey has had a recent health scare after complaining to Dr. Grey
(Fred Melamed) about a slight loss of hearing in his right ear. A CAT scan
reveals a gray blotch on the brain that sends Mickey’s obsessive fear into
overdrive. In flashback we discover that Mickey and Hannah were told they could
never have children and that the flaw was in Mickey’s low sperm count. Mickey
and Hannah then turned to his former creative partner, Norman (Tony Roberts) to
provide them with a necessary sample for Hannah’s artificial insemination.
After some consternation, Norman complied. But he thereafter dissolved their
partnership and moved to Los Angeles where, so we are told, he has since become
a very wealthy television producer.
After some
preliminary tests, doctors concur that the blotch on Mickey’s brain is benign –
possibly a shadow or some other anomaly that he has absolutely nothing to worry
about. But Mickey has had an epiphany of sorts. Desperate for answers to life’s
most perplexing questions, Mickey briefly toys with religious conversion, first
to Catholicism, then Krishna Consciousness. After a laughably botched suicide
attempt, a forlorn Mickey experiences a reawakening of his desire for life
while attending a screening of the Marx Brothers’ Duck Soup. Shortly thereafter he makes a conscious effort to get
reacquainted with Holly inside a seedy record store. Now clean and sober, she
appreciates Mickey’s sense of humor much more. The two strike up a friendship
that blossoms into romance and are eventually married.
Lee ends her
affair with Elliot and goes back to school where she meets a professor (Ivan
Kronenfeld) who becomes her lover and later, her husband. Meanwhile, Elliot
discovers how much he loves his wife. Although Hannah has infrequently
suspected that something had changed in their marital relationship, she is
reassured of Elliot’s enduring affections – if not his fidelity – when he
decides to rekindle the passion they once shared for one another. In the final moments of the film, Mickey is
seen attending yet another Thanksgiving celebration with Hannah and her
sisters. Holly, who has since become a successful writer arrives late to the
dinner and informs Mickey that she is pregnant with their child.
Hannah and Her Sisters is rather obviously
inspired by Ingmar Bergman’s Fanny and
Alexander (1982) with parallels between both movies extending to each
dramatic arc; the close knit theatrical family’s evolution through times of
peace and conflict over three consecutive years, and, pigeon-holed around a
particular holiday (Christmas in Bergman’s movie; Thanksgiving in Allen’s). The
penultimate scene where Mickey’s reflection suddenly appears from behind Holly
is a direct rip off of Bergman’s reference to the bishop’s apparition in his
film.
An old adage
claims that to steal from one is plagiarism but to steal from many is research.
Yet I’m not entirely certain if the adage holds true when the artist – in this
case Woody Allen – is borrowing from himself. Allen’s craftsmanship as a film
maker on Hannah and Her Sisters never
achieves a level of originality found elsewhere in his canon: from Annie Hall to Manhattan, or even The Purple Rose of Cairo and Broadway Danny Rose. There are some
charming vignettes to be sure, for no movie made by Woody Allen is ever an out
and out flop. But the story becomes fragmented by Allen’s inability to bring his
various narrative threads together until very near the end. Regrettably, by then
his denouement seems oddly contrived, stitched together to mimic narrative cohesion
without actually achieving it.
Allen’s Mickey
Sachs is a clumsy edition to the story. He is Hannah’s ex and Holly’s soon to
be husband. In Manhattan, Allen also
played the ex, to Meryl Streep’s Jill and her new lesbian lover. However, Jill
was never the focus of that film. Presumably, Hannah is the focus of this movie (after all, the title is 'Hannah'
and 'Her Sisters'), except that she is not the focus at all. The central
narratives revolve around Elliot and Lee, and Holly and Mickey.
Padding out
the rest of the cast with such luminaries as Mia Farrow, Max von Sydow and
Carrie Fisher, with cameos by Tony Roberts and Sam Waterston, only serves to
dilute the narrative further. Their inherent celebrity cache raises the
audience’s level of expectation that they will have more participation within
the story than they ultimately do in the finished film. Carrie Fisher in
particular is utterly wasted as April – a gal we barely see – and yet Fisher is
fourth billed in the credits, above Barbara Hershey who clearly has the more
plum role.
And then there
is the rather awkward way Woody Allen recycles the non-linear narrative structure
from his previous hits, herein into obscure and disassociated vignettes. Take,
for example the entirely unexpected departure that has Hannah acting as an intermediary
between her two drunken parents – each dredging up the other’s past
infidelities and current indiscretions. This scene has its counterpoint later
on when Mickey confronts his mother and father about his decision to denounce Judaism
for an alternative religion. Both scenes are genuinely affecting and quite humorous
in and of themselves. Yet neither enriches the main plot or even involves the
main characters in our story. We don’t
understand Hannah or Mickey more because of these scenes; their cause and effect
to whatever else is going on around them, marginal at best. The prerequisite
thirty-second laugh is still there, yet utterly lacking interconnection.
In the end,
watching Hannah and Her Sisters is
very much like being exposed to little gems inside the impenetrable artistic
clutter that is Woody Allen’s creative mind. However, unlike the previously
mentioned treasures in Allen’s cinematic trove, in Hannah and Her Sisters Allen seems less selective about which gems
to share – the opportunity to simply rummage through the lot devolves into a
claptrap where the pieces quite simply do not fit as neatly – or even as
fascinatingly - as they ought. While one may argue that this is Allen’s
intention from the get go, the overall impression remains awkward and
unfulfilling. Hannah and Her Sisters
may be thought-provoking – but rarely does it rise above the commonplace.
Fox Home
Video’s Blu-ray is single layered with inconsistently rendered film grain. In
some scenes it’s practically nonexistent, and in others it is so heavy that it
threatens to break apart fine detail in background information. There’s just no
happy medium; likely the result of using old digital files merely bumped to a
1080p signal. Colors are muddy and unrefined. Flesh tones infrequently veer
toward that unattractive ‘piggy pink’ and never attain a completely natural
texture. Fine detail is wanting throughout this entire presentation. Minor
hints of edge enhancement are also present. The DTS mono audio is adequate and
in keeping with Allen’s own minimalist approach to film making. The only extra
is a theatrical trailer. Not recommended. Another disappointing effort from Fox
– one of many, I might add.
FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)
2.5
VIDEO/AUDIO
1.5
EXTRAS
0
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