Many great performers have appeared in romantic comedies. Typically, should they desire to receive Oscar recognition, they have to reach for dramatic parts. Diane Keaton, who passed away recently, followed a reverse trajectory and pulled it off with effortless grace. Her first major film role was in The Godfather, as dramatic an cinematic masterpiece as ever created. But that same year, she reprised the part of the character Linda, the object of a nerdy hero’s affection, in a film adaptation of the theatrical production Play It Again, Sam. She persistently switched serious dramas with lighthearted romances across the seventies, and the lighter fare that earned her the Academy Award for outstanding actress, changing the genre permanently.
That Oscar was for the film Annie Hall, written and directed by Woody Allen, with Keaton in the lead role, part of the film’s broken romance. Allen and Keaton dated previously prior to filming, and remained close friends until her passing; during conversations, Keaton described Annie as a dream iteration of herself, as seen by Allen. It might be simple, then, to believe her portrayal required little effort. But there’s too much range in Keaton’s work, contrasting her dramatic part and her Allen comedies and throughout that very movie, to dismiss her facility with rom-coms as merely exuding appeal – although she remained, of course, highly charismatic.
Annie Hall notably acted as Allen’s shift between more gag-based broad comedies and a realistic approach. Consequently, it has plenty of gags, dreamlike moments, and a loose collage of a romantic memory mixed with painful truths into a fated love affair. Likewise, Keaton, oversaw a change in American rom-coms, playing neither the rapid-fire comic lead or the sexy scatterbrain famous from the ’50s. Rather, she mixes and matches elements from each to create something entirely new that still reads as oddly contemporary, halting her assertiveness with her own false-start hesitations.
See, as an example the moment when Annie and Alvy initially hit it off after a match of tennis, awkwardly exchanging proposals for a ride (even though only just one drives). The dialogue is quick, but veers erratically, with Keaton maneuvering through her nervousness before concluding with of “la di da”, a words that embody her nervous whimsy. The film manifests that sensibility in the subsequent moment, as she makes blasé small talk while operating the car carelessly through Manhattan streets. Afterward, she finds her footing performing the song in a nightclub.
This is not evidence of Annie being unstable. Throughout the movie, there’s a dimensionality to her playful craziness – her post-hippie openness to sample narcotics, her fear of crustaceans and arachnids, her refusal to be manipulated by Alvy’s attempts to turn her into someone outwardly grave (in his view, that signifies preoccupied with mortality). Initially, Annie could appear like an unusual choice to receive acclaim; she plays the female lead in a film told from a male perspective, and the central couple’s arc fails to result in either changing enough to make it work. However, she transforms, in manners visible and hidden. She just doesn’t become a more compatible mate for Alvy. Numerous follow-up films took the obvious elements – nervous habits, quirky fashions – failing to replicate her final autonomy.
Possibly she grew hesitant of that trend. Following her collaboration with Allen ended, she paused her lighthearted roles; the film Baby Boom is really her only one from the whole decade of the eighties. However, in her hiatus, Annie Hall, the role possibly more than the loosely structured movie, became a model for the genre. Actress Meg Ryan, for example, credits much of her love story success to Keaton’s skill to portray intelligence and flightiness together. This cast Keaton as like a permanent rom-com queen even as she was actually playing more wives (whether happily, as in Father of the Bride, or more strained, as in the film The First Wives Club) and/or parental figures (see that Christmas movie or that mother-daughter story) than independent ladies in love. Even in her reunion with the director, they’re a long-married couple drawn nearer by humorous investigations – and she fits the character smoothly, wonderfully.
But Keaton did have a further love story triumph in two thousand three with the film Something’s Gotta Give, as a writer in love with a man who dates younger women (actor Jack Nicholson, naturally). The result? Her last Academy Award nod, and a entire category of romantic tales where older women (often portrayed by famous faces, but still!) take charge of their destinies. One factor her death seems like such a shock is that she kept producing those movies as recently as last year, a frequent big-screen star. Today viewers must shift from expecting her roles to grasping the significant effect she was on the funny romance as it is recognized. Is it tough to imagine modern equivalents of such actresses who emulate her path, the reason may be it’s uncommon for an actor of her caliber to commit herself to a genre that’s frequently reduced to digital fare for a long time.
Consider: there are ten active actresses who received at least four best actress nominations. It’s uncommon for any performance to begin in a rom-com, let alone half of them, as was the case for Keaton. {Because her
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