Magic In the Moonlight: Emma Stone On Daily Show, Colin Firth on Letterman, Charlie Rose

Published on Jul 18, 2014

Review and Pictures and Video Clips of Woody Allen’s movie “MAGIC IN THE MOONLIGHT” Part 15

Magic in the Moonlight

Theatrical Review

[Sony Pictures Classics; 2014]
Director: Woody Allen

Runtime: 97 minutes

Written by Nick Newman, July 18, 2014 at 10:00 am

Magic in the Moonlight’s pending release has granted marketing types an opportunity to noteWoody Allen’s supposed penchant for magic. For this to be the hobby of someone we don’t know is one thing; for it to supposedly be a passion of someone whose decades-spanning career has essentially been built upon exposing his neuroses and desires is far more intriguing. Notwithstanding some obvious exceptions — The Purple Rose of Cairo, Scoop, Midnight in Paris, and one of his greatest works, the 1989 featurette Oedipus Wrecks — Allen’s oeuvre is a bit cleaner than this might suggest, more often leaning toward the rational way of assessing life’s various aberrations. (Or, at least, how his damaged characters might dare to define “rational.”) If we’re then to consider both the consistency of his worldview and the way that worldview has, time and time again, been channeled through the helmer’s now-perfunctory onscreen surrogate, there aren’t numerous ways his scripting of the romance between a stand-in skeptic and a supposed medium might turn.

For a little while, however, it seems as if Magic in the Moonlight is willing to bend the rules — as if a rug is slowly, clearly being pulled from under our feet, his (ahem) magic resting in how blatantly a fine act’s been communicated. In frequently, insistently proposing that one half of its leads can reach to a world beyond, there’s a careful subversion of the Allen mindset running through much of this picture, where our knowledge of the long-standing relationship between scribe and protagonist gives his plot’s central mystery an unusually strong sense of gravity. When the picture’s central figure, Stanley (Colin Firth), speaks of a distaste for the fantastical, one might not necessarily hear Allen speaking; heard, rather, are so many of the affable cynics who’ve been put onscreen over the decades, Stanley’s language and tone carrying that tradition of smart-aleck talk infused with a frustration over how much of an idiot so many other people are.

At the outset, he, a “militantly scientific” illusionist, makes clear his thoughts on the craft: it does not exist in any form whatsoever, and though he might take great pride in the careful orchestration of fakery, it is really, truly no more than fakery when looked at from any proper angle. But when entangled in the plot to unmask a young woman, Sophie (Emma Stone), who claims a deep connection with the afterlife — and who can recall very specific, very personal details of Stephen’s own background — there are questions to be had. So far, so good: when these elements quietly cohere before little outside basic blocks have been laid down, the combination of a premise and its creator’s well-publicized rejection of the fantastical practically hum at the edge of the frame.

Would that it were enough to sustain so much as 97 minutes, during which time it becomes difficult to tell how much investment Allen actually has in material that can be boiled down to “the only real magic is love.” Excepting so much as the chance it’s provided him to spend a bit of time by the scenic French seaside, that is. Meager on purpose? This is hardly proper justification. It’s nice to think that, like a good trick, Magic in the Moonlight mines pleasures from a carefully delineated sleight of hand, but that would be to imply its pleasures are larger than the easy and ephemeral. This well-scouted, well-dressed, well-coiffed aesthetic principal is very nice to look at, sure, but it was with only mild affection when the words “scenery porn” came to mind during many (many, many, many) of Magic’s exterior sequences. Some will (understandably) take these widescreen vistas as an opportunity to bask in the same setting as its characters, sweeping us up right along with them; what I found was mostly distracting from a standard-issue romance between two luminous stars who, together, unfortunately gave the impression of having met 20 minutes before cameras rolled.

If Allen only wants to treat us a bit, fine. What frustrates is when there’s always something at least a smidge more interesting — with regard to nearly everything: setting, historical context, dynamics between characters (if not stars), and the questions of mystical influence which are meant to penetrate the first hour or so — either before us or bubbling under the surface, waiting to come forth with just a bit of extra push on his part. But because he seems incapable of constructing a film of absolutely no worth, the moments when they really do come forth can speak for his endeavor a bit more. From these, a light, albeit wistful thing reveals itself: the occasional séance sequence, equally effective in atmosphere and comedic effect; the recurring (and, make no mistake, poked-fun-at) ukelele playing of Sophie’s clueless fiancé (Hamish Linklater); every line and gesture from Simon McBurney; or Darius Khondji-provided cinematography which, though clearly a bit more restrained than something such as The Immigrant, adds a physical depth and weight to Allen’s compositions.

A shame that the individual efforts of many are undercut by one leader’s inability to support his choice of period. Even when the work of production designer Anne Seibel stands in the same league as tasks performed on Midnight in Paris — though not quite as extravagant, still detail-oriented in a way that stands out while avoiding unnecessary pronouncements — the “scenery porn” criticism comes back to mind. What does this have to do with the narrative? Though I’ve entertained an idea that “the magic of the era” is something he’s getting at, it doesn’t cohere with his plot: this might be too picky, but excepting the possibility that someone would’ve conducted an Internet search in order to figure out the truth behind another player’s identity, its roaring-20s setting is at best a nice touch, at worst with the stench of ostentatious dress-up. (The casting of English-speaking actors — many of whom either are or, in the case of Jacki Weaver, playing American — certainly doesn’t alleviate concerns that we’re coasting on the exoticism of a foreign landscape.) And, again: if Allen only wants to treat us a bit, fine, yet the most memorable characteristic of an otherwise innocuous work is still one I struggle to justify past, “Well, this all looks nice.”

It’s to his credit that something requiring very little of its period setting, narrative-wise, might recall the past in ways which extend beyond dressings on a couch. The notion that any artist who’s been so strongly embedded into the popular culture might go unrecognized in certain essential respects is a curious one, but to look at Allen’s recent pictures (particularly last year’s Blue Jasmine) has nevertheless served as a reminder of his patient, observant visual style. Like any great cinematic conversationalist, he’s yet to lose awareness of how large an effect some small gesture of the camera or rhythms in a scene’s cutting might bear — why holding on Stone’s expressive face as Firth speaks can further communicate dynamics of their characters’ relationship, or, so long as the writing is able to sustain the action, what cumulative effect an extended two-shot might provide. When all immediately pertinent information regarding our protagonist is slipped into his introductory shot, it’s not a matter of the shot’s complexity; it’s mostly the willingness to be just the slightest bit methodical while keeping humor in mind.

With little fat on the actual narrative, Magic in the Moonlight‘s efficient clip evokes the better pictures of that era, Allen even having the courtesy to wrap up as soon as the impression it’s running a bit long has started to settle in. Since so little of this movie holds together, though, there’s still a contradicting effect at play: when the final scene is almost stumbled into, and when a concluding fadeout hits just as the last ribbon is being tied, I wound up leaving the theater as if nothing had happened — no sounds, no images, no feelings. How nice it would be if this was like watching something vanish before your very eyes; how unfortunate that it’s more akin to watching a small cloud of smoke suddenly appear, briefly stand, then quickly dissipate right before I’m put back onto Madison Avenue, ready to get on with the rest of my day.

As we continue with an era of Woody Allen’s career where all guesses pertaining to quality are a fool’s errand, that’s sometimes the most one can ask for. But that shouldn’t be so. Am I practically doing this out of some sense of obligation? Or is it all compelled by those small hopes a stronger-than-average preceding title has instilled? Less than 96 hours after exiting a screening room, the most I have left to say is this: at least next year’s outing holds promise.

Magic in the Moonlight will enter limited release on July 25, courtesy of Sony Pictures Classics.

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Review: Woody Allen’s ‘Magic in the Moonlight’ is Exactly What It Looks Like

“The gullible are so stupid they deserve it,” says Stanley Crawford (Colin Firth), the cocky stage magician devoted to debunking spiritualists in Woody Allen’s “Magic in the Moonlight.” Allen has built a career around cheeky one-liners, but with this one he’s practically thumbing his nose at the audience. There’s no mistaking “Magic in the Moonlight,” which takes place in the jazz age, features plenty of witty repartee and the shadings of an old school Hollywood romance, as the kind of blithe, talky comedy that Allen produces on autopilot. But 48 years since Allen’s first feature “What’s Up, Tiger Lily,” there’s a clean distinction between endearing Allen comedies and afterthoughts. “Magic in the Moonlight” unquestionably falls into the latter category.

The director, who turns 80 next year, cranks out a movie per year with an arbitrary track record that often depends on whether the material provides enough substance for his cast to do something interesting with it. “Magic in the Moonlight” belongs to the pool of lesser Allen comedies, yet Firth and Emma Stone — as the alleged necromancer Sophie Baker, the object of Stanley’s scrutiny and eventually his affections — bring all the zany energy they can muster. Unfortunately, unlike Cate Blanchett’s remarkable capacity to wrestle the material of last year’s “Blue Jasmine” into her own furious showcase, the actors are provided with a limited range of options.

That being said, this is no travesty of “Scoop”-level proportions, nor does it show the markings of clumsy storytelling like Allen’s most recent misfire, “To Rome With Love.” Instead, “Magic in the Moonlight” offers a half-baked scenario and follows through on it with largely unmemorable results. But maybe that’s worst: it’s simultaneously possible to detect Allen’s voice in every scene and recognize the sheer lack of ambition behind it.

Anyone familiar with Robert B. Weide’s 2012 “American Masters” documentary on Allen knows that he keeps a small box filled with scraps of paper on which he jots down brief ideas for projects. Sometimes, that’s just enough to provide a foundation for his traditional storytelling to gel with the actors eager to inhabit his stylish world. “Magic in the Moonlight,” however, registers as more paper scrap than movie. Within the opening minutes, when Stanley’s old magician pal Howard (Simon McBurney) beckons Stanley to the south of France so he can scrutinize Sophie’s seances, viewers may be able to relate to her supernatural claims by predicting plot’s future direction: Naturally, the skeptically-minded Stanley is entranced by Sophie’s abilities — in addition to her physical appearance, of course.

But forget about the 28-year age difference between the pair. This is a Woody Allen movie! Their romantic attraction marks one element this feature gets right, once again because Allen apparently cedes control to his cast. Firth and Stone generate terrific onscreen chemistry, as the older actor’s leery expression clashes nicely with Stone’s wide-eyed reactions whenever she claims to have received a premonition. It’s obvious that not every motive comes from a sincere place, but given those expectations, Firth and Stone are pleasant enough to watch.

If only Allen gave them more to wade through. It’s no major huge spoiler to reveal that after hearing Sophie make psychic pronouncements about his past, he grows abruptly convinced of her powers — so much so that he even calls for a press conference to denounce his atheistic point of view. Would someone dedicated to the pursuit of scientific evidence give up so easily? Or did Allen, sitting at his typewriter, shrug and decide to just speed things up for the final act?

Such questions would be moot if “Magic in the Moonlight” didn’t place them front and center. Unlike “Curse of the Jade Scorpion” or “Midnight in Paris,” Allen’s latest playful treatment of supernatural events deals more with its characters’ philosophical relationship to otherworldly phenomena rather than their ramifications for the plot. Yet it offers only one truly satisfying investigation into crises of faith: a single shot in which Firth’s character, faced with sudden catastrophe, unleashes a makeshift prayer before changing his tune. Watching him come to his senses is akin to witnessing the movie itself smarten up.

That single late-in-the-game scene nearly saves the movie. Even as it arrives at a rather basic climax, “Magic in the Moonlight” conveys the shadings of a nimble romcom with keen existential undertones. Per usual at this juncture, cinematographer Darius Khonji gives the period a bright, detailed palette that matches the sparkly quality of Allen’s sensibilities. But as a whole, his screenplay feels oddly toothless, as if the filmmaker hopes to relish in the humor of his scenario but failed to come up with enough punchlines to carry it out.

Whenever Allen makes a bad or even just a mediocre movie, it begs the question of whether he’s lost his comedic touch. Certainly his movies lack the smarmy, vulgar polish of earlier efforts, and there are plenty other directors well-positioned to take the mantle of refined comedic filmmaking he’s dominated for so long.

With the success of “The Grand Budapest Hotel,” Wes Anderson has firmly entered Woody Allen territory by making delightfully eccentric comedies with blend goofy antics with serious undertones. Michel Gondry, whose stylish “Mood Indigo” opens this week, also brings a degree of visual invention to comedy that hasn’t manifested to a satisfying degree in Allen’s movies for ages.

Still, Allen’s been playing his game for a long time, and his track record can’t be discounted, especially since it directly informs the work. There are just enough cheery quips and verbal asides to allow “Magic in the Moonlight” to accrue the precise appeal of its creator.

But there’s also just enough to make its shortcomings clear: The pratfall of Allen’s ridiculous output is that every misstep suffers from comparison to better versions from the same director. He’s become so prolific that even his true believers must experience the occasional crisis of faith, but with production already underway for his next feature, it won’t take long before he gets another chance to win us back again.

Grade: C+

“Magic in the Moonlight” opens in New York, Los Angeles and Chicago on July 25 followed by a nationwide expansion.

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Magic in the Moonlight (★★★)

By Joey Magidson on July 18, 2014@https://twitter.com/JoeyMagidsonIt’s gotten to be a bit of a running joke in the cinema world that every other year Woody Allenputs out a “lesser” work. That’s not completely untrue, but I’m pleased to say that this year Allen’s “off year” outing is pretty solid in and of itself. Beautiful looking and a fun vehicle for Colin Firthto be a bit on a silly side, Magic in the Moonlight isn’t an awards contender by any stretch, but it’s an enjoyable way to spend about 100 minutes in a movie theater. Firth gets to spar with Emma Stone in a way that consistently entertains throughout, while Allen never lets things get too ridiculous or too serious. It’s hardly his headiest material and once again there are recycled elements to this work, but whole thing just goes down really easily. Yes, I’ve never fond a movie of Allen’s that I haven’t at least found to be decent, but I know the difference betweenManhattan and The Curse of the Jade Scorpion. This film isn’t the former by any stretch but it’s also miles away from the latter as well. It’s a cute little flick that won’t be an awards contender but should appeal to Allen’s legion of fans. Magic in the Moonlight isn’t a masterpiece at all (and calling it “minor Allen” probably is an accurate description), but it’s very easy to recommend to you all. On a hot summer day, it’s a pleasure to watch…

We begin by meeting our protagonist Stanley Crawford (Firth) in action. It’s 1928 and he’s a famous English magician who performs under heavy makeup as Wei Ling-soo in packed houses across Europe. He also is known for debunking the supernatural (including the Vatican, he says early on). When an old friend and fellow prestidigitator Howard (Simon McBurney) visits him backstage and requests his help on a particularly tricky case, the snooty Stanley jumps at the chance. Howard says he’s been watching the work of purported spirit medium Sophie Baker (Stone) and can’t figure out how she’s doing it. She and her mother (Marcia Gay Harden) have ingratiated themselves into a wealthy family’s life, particularly the son Brice (Hamish Linklater), who’s in love with her. Stanley thinks it’s all nonsense, so he agrees to go visit. Under a different name, he arrives and has the same problem…he can’t figure it out. Could Sophie be legit? More importantly, he’s falling in love with her, so is his judgment clouded? As his values are challenged, things get amusingly messy. The plot here is fairly simple, but the main pleasure is in just seeing everyone display solid chemistry with each other and have fun.

It’s far too rare that Colin Firth gets to truly let loose with comedy like he does here, and it’s a pleasure to see. He doesn’t try to imitate Allen, but it’s definitely an Allen type character. Firth is having a great time, reveling in the character’s snark and misanthropic nature, not afraid to really go for it. He consistently made me laugh. Emma Stone gets the muse treatment from Allen here, as it’s clear he’s got her in mind for future projects. She seems a touch out of place in the period elements, but she’s still very charming here and spits out Allen’s dialogue terrifically. Her chemistry with Firth especially is rather sparkling. Stone will be in Allen’s next outing, so I can’t wait to see here there. They’re the only two to really write home about, though Jacki Weaver is very solid as Brice’s mother, but she’s underused. The aforementioned Hamish Linklater is decent but unmemorable, except for trying to do Allen’s stammer at times, for no reason that I can ascertain. Simon McBurney is likewise unmemorable, while Marcia Gay Harden is outright wasted. The supporting cast also includes Eileen Atkins and more, but Firth and Stone are who fares the best here, by far.

Allen is seeking to recapture the magic (no pun intended) to some degree that he bottled withMidnight in Paris, and while he’s not able to go that far, he does once again have Darius Khondji as his cinematographer, so the film looks fantastic. Allen’s direction and writing are the same as usual (decidedly old fashion and either charming or hokey, depending on who you are), though the visuals are definitely better than average. This really does strike me as the sort of idea Allen literally pulls out of his drawer of aborted ideas that he showed off in his PBS documentary a year or so ago, but he makes it work. Apparently he was originally setting it on Long Island in the Hamptons as opposed to France, and that location change perhaps has made all the difference for him. The ending is more or less what you’d expect, but for a bit in the third act Allen does pull a bit of a surprise in how the handles the whole “do we need to be logical in our lives or is there a place for magic?” question.

Without question, Magic in the Moonlight is a bit of a forgettable Allen effort, but it’s still a good movie and well worth seeing. It’s basically recommendation worthy on its own for Firth and Stone, but the cinematography is another excellent selling point as well. For an Allen flick people were expecting nothing from, this definitely exceeds expectations. If you want a nice bit of summer counter programming, this film is a safe bet. Magic in the Moonlight sets out to endear itself to you, and in that regard the work is definitely a success.

–Thoughts? Discuss in the comments!

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MAGIC IN THE MOONLIGHT – Official Trailer (2014) [HD] Emma Stone, Colin Firth

Published on May 21, 2014

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