shadows and fog

Thanks mostly to the critical prestige his films bring to the studios, Woody Allen has had the sort of creative freedom other directors only dream about. That and an impressive work ethic have helped him pump out a movie a year since the release of Annie Hall in 1977. With Shadows and Fog (1991), once again Allen digs deep into his box of cinematic inspirations, marrying a beautiful black-and-white tribute to German Expressionism with his typically self-absorbed cast of characters. It's an experiment in broad humor, romantic philosophy and political paranoia that never quite works, but certainly looks pretty while doing so.

Allen takes over lead actor duties as Kleinman - yet another take on the actor / director's cowardly putz persona - who is coerced into hunting the foggy streets for a serial strangler. While he and his fellow citizens run in circles, various other characters unwittingly enter the fray. Irmy (Mia Farrow), on the run from a traveling circus and her cheating ex-husband (John Malkovich), winds up making a small fortune at the local brothel after accepting an offer from a smitten university student (John Cusack). Eventually Irmy and her wad of cash cross paths with Kleinman, who's now become a suspect for the murders himself and must find the killer to clear his name.

Shadows and Fog, for all its impressive cinematography and sets (it was Allen's most expensive film up to that point) loses itself in a fog of confusing agendas. As a simple tribute to the work of Fritz Lang and the host of Universal horror films his style inspired, the film works wonderfully. The stage-bound scenery is a treat and Allen manipulates his camera with a bit more verve than usual. Even his performance as Kleinman is good for more than a few memorable one-liners. But as the film swaps stories and POVs, it loses its spoof appeal and spreads itself too thin, mistaking cameos for characters (Donald Pleasance, Jodie Foster, Lilly Tomlin, Kathy Bates and even Madonna make appearances) and feeling more like a pet project that wasn't quite ready to go off leash.

That said, there are some enjoyable performances besides Allen himself. John Cusack (who never quite lived up to his potential) feels right at home in the Allen oeuvre. And the entire scene at the brothel (with Tomlin, Foster and Bates) feels so comfortably casual one almost wishes the film had more time to spend at their house of ill repute. But, with his one film per year schedule, Allen seemed content to leave this experiment on the shelf and move on (the Oscar nominated Husbands and Wives would follow). Leaving us with all the rewards and regrets the auteur theory has to offer.

Twilight Time's 3000-copy limited edition is another stellar addition to their Woody Allen library. There are no extras besides the isolated score track and a theatrical trailer but the hi-def treatment of cinematographer Carlo Di Palma's work is first rate stuff.