The
Funny Man
We thought we knew Woody Allen – the neurotic
hypochondriac Jewish New York intellectual. Then
came his custody battle with Mia Farrow, and
he seemed rather different. The worst is over.
But can he ever play Woody again?
The Independent
on Sunday, January 1994
Woody Allen once
said that if he could live his whole life again,
he’d
do it just the same, except he wouldn’t read Beowulf. Nowadays, in a
London hotel suite, post personal scandal, he takes the question with a little
more gravitas. ‘My whole life again? Gee. I probably would not have been
a filmmaker. I probably would have gone to college. I would not have dropped
out of school. I would have educated myself, and have taken that more seriously.
I would have probably tried to do something in music or dance. Believe it or
not, and it sounds so silly to hear myself say it… me on the stage.
I would like to have gone into a more physical profession. I think I could
have
been a ballet dancer. Seriously, I was very athletic.’
Seriously. He works out every day on modern equipment. This scrawny man,
58, tweed and corduroy and anorak, funny inadequate, thinks that maybe had
he trained
a little harder, or eaten better, or just had the right breaks, he could
have been twirling and pirouetting, lifting lithe young women in the air,
and not
just in the privacy of his own apartment. He thinks he may have been happier. ‘Sometimes
when I work a year on something, shooting out there in the cold and the rain
with the stress and the money, when you’ve finished, and it is not such
a good film, you think “was it really worth it?’” It probably
wasn’t.’
Woody Allen doesn’t have many friends,
he says. Not now, not ever, not even in the ballet
world. He works out alone in the privacy of his
Manhattan apartment. He writes alone ‘until
I can’t take the solitude any longer,’ and
he plays his clarinet alone each day for an hour
or more. But Woody’s not a recluse; it’s
not like people think. He used to be reclusive,
and his shyness and closeted pursuit of his art
meant we never knew that much about how he lived.
But then Mia found those nude photos of one of
her adopted daughters, and accused him of molesting
another daughter in the attic, and then he sued
for custody for three children, and then the
court and the psychoanalysts and social workers
and court reporters jumped aboard, and now we
know a little more about Woody Allen, and we
find him rather less Woodyish than we did before.
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