I'm not a fan of Woody Allen, I've never been. This is not part of a way to judge, because in reality what does or does not make an artist in his personal life is not worth negatively related to their intellectual output.
Truth be told. I hate that little man with disheveled hair who always seems to run over words one after another when it is expressed. I think that is absurd in a state of denial of the other when it does. As if one would be to understand itself.
So the only way they can face their production is through its actors. If an actor of his work strikes me, right there I ran to him.
This time I had a name. Naomi Watts. The woman who have won the Oscar and over again.
In the finest Hollywood circles, being a muse of Mr. Allen is almost like being a muse of Almodovar in Spain, the woman chosen automatically becomes a treasured "object of desire," which Vogue magazine.
Without further ado and more jokes, this film seems like a complete fiasco. It's boring, linear, predictable and empty. With no turning points that might astound the viewer beyond the ordinary.
A story of two couples who come together in vacuums and decide to find a new partner is the solution to your problems, it seems I can take to cut fabric where, but in the end we were eager to find something beyond what we see in all the soaps. A deep dismay and bewilderment.
The end is inconclusive. I think it is a mark of its director, yet this time it seems that film lacked rolls, because the film was left in half. Points
omniscient narration as always, excellent choice of casting-wasting ending with Sir Anthony Hopkins, Josh Watts-Broslin And its inevitable black humor and the choice of a single color - red my love to dress her muse again and again, make this film but acceptable, a view that can allow for a Sunday afternoon, when there is no longer anything to do . Scene
not to be missed: None.
My recommendation: If you want to see some of Woody Allen, search for "Match Point" and will not repent.
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