Annie Hall

Thirty-four years, four Annie Hall Oscars, and a fair number of career (and personal) missteps behind him, Woody Allen’s famous adage that a relationship is like a shark still holds true. And as a perhaps overly prolific writer-director, he also seems to move forward relentlessly, sometimes unfunnily, in order to survive. (Dead sharks like Scoop and Melinda and Melinda are somewhat forgiven after Midnight in Paris.) Allen’s 1977 career best was a breakthrough that won Academy Awards for directing, writing, actress (Diane Keaton, duh), and picture (even beating out Star Wars, speaking of directors who’ve pushed on longer than they should). If Taxi Driver defined one lurid, violent side of ’70s New York, Annie Hall is the bittersweet complement—a funny, rueful meditation on love gong wrong, without recrimination or tears. Very few romantic comedies are made about not getting what you want (i.e., Keaton), and yet the essence of Annie Hall may be how we learn (and laugh at) the futility of loving. And yet we persist, like Allen, like the shark that keeps on swimming. Note free admission with same-day receipt from a local LQA business, or $5 without. (PG) BRIAN MILLER

Tue., Oct. 25, 5 p.m., 2011

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