Mother gave me an early birthday present a few days ago: a collection of eight Woody Allen films on DVD. I nearly shrieked when she gave it to me. I was quite surprised, too. It was not a gift that I saw coming, and it's not like Woody has been on my mind lately. Occasionally, about every three months or so, I walk around the house complaining that I'm craving a Woody Allen movie, but it passes. I never thought to buy any; I figured I would just catch them when they're on T.V.
Last night/this morning I watched Annie Hall. That, and Manhattan, are the only two in the collection I have seen. (My favorite, Hannah and Her Sisters, and a few others that I love are not in the collection, but that is okay because now I get to see movies I haven't seen before.) So great. It was kind of sad, because I'm not sure I was in the mood to watch a movie about an unsuccessful relationship. Many of his movies, while funny, are depressing because they're realistic. People break up. He wonders about the meaning of life, and what will happen when we die. Even though I'm not a man, I'm not Jewish, and I didn't come of age decades ago, I can relate to a lot of the things he says. That's why I love his work, even more than for its humor. Once while I was rambling to Mentor, he laughed and said to me, "You're so insecure. You're like a female Woody Allen." I took it as a grand compliment. But that's just me.