NEW REVIEW!! MATCH POINT: I never lost faith in Woody Allen. I just want to make that clear right from the start. He's my hero in a lot of ways. I've always admired him and aspired to write dialogue like him since I was very young. My parents made me watch Annie Hall and Stardust Memories among others when I was about 11. During the last few years as his films got weaker and weaker I had this feeling that Allen's awful habit of putting himself in films with actresses a quarter of his age would evolve into some kind of strange performance art and be regarded as a genius again. His self-parodying would come full circle.

Match Point is certainly not what I expected at all. Allen envelopes himself in a strange upper-class-British-comedy-meets-film-noir hybrid almost hiding that self he loves to parody. Of course, he's still there if you squint. There's the classic Allen hero, brooding and nihilistic, only this time he's played with the sociopathic swagger of Jonathan Rhys-Meyers (who I thought turned out an impressive performance but who my companions* were unimpressed with). There's the borderline psychotic female who seems ready at any moment to castrate our hero over the slightest emotional unavailability played here by Scarlett Johansson, vamping it up like a sorority girl reciting Barbara Stanwyck lines in the mirror. There's infidelity, awkward moments, and, of course, some fabulous shots of fabulous real estate.

The differences, however, from Allen's previous films are startling. All the sex is animalistic rather than intellectual (which leads to some silliness involving a tie). Also I felt completely free to dislike the hero whereas in earlier films I felt compelled to sympathize with Allen's amoral characters. Emily Mortimer elegantly weasels her way out of the shrewish wife role Allen seems to love writing. Most of all, Allen leaves you free to comment on the piece rather than commenting on it himself which has made his later work so smug. This is the number one reason why Match Point works. We are laughing at Allen instead of laughing at Allen laughing at himself. Humor manifests itself through perversion and you feel uncomfortable when you chuckle at the horrific.

The mood is completely double-edged because the film is a turbulent mix of genres that distills quite nicely. I thought the acting was perfect despite the fact that none of it was very stellar. It reminded me of Pulp Fiction (another orgy of film genres) in the sense that the actors portray their characters with a certain amateurish flare. Rhys-Meyers and Johansson are playing such iconic cliches (frustrated suit and femme fatale) plopped into decidedly foreign terroritory (wordy UK suspense thriller?). Just as John Travolta and Uma Thurman played hired thug and gangster moll thrown into laidback CA Nouvelle Vague/snuff film. I loved the pace (whooping two hours, a first for Allen) because of the great sense of dread that culminated as a result. Besides some heavy-handed tennis imagery and reoccuring "luck" theme, Allen has enough control over the ongoing weirdness that he knows when to hit you with it and when to let it curdle your insides.

Bottom line: I liked it. I don't recommended it for everyone though. I do feel the reaction at Cannes has over-hyped it a bit but Allen fans will definitely enjoy.

* Carmen