To Rome With Love Review

In last year's Midnight in Paris, perennial auteur Woody Allen explored the danger of nostalgia, how longing for the past takes away from the present.  It was a fitting theme for the writer-director to explore, as so many of his recent works have caused critics and fans to cry out for the lost artist who created such classics as Annie Hall, Hannah and Her Sisters, and Manhattan.  To Rome With Love may elicit similar cries, though at least somewhat unjustly.  True, To Rome With Love finds Allen in the star-studded multi-narrative that he last employed in the unfortunately named (and absolutely dreadful) You Will Meet a Tall Dark Stranger.  But Allen is again delving into personal terrain, this time exploring the world of celebrity, an apt choice of subject matter for a director whose life has been so closely examined and criticized, and whose movies are so often full of big names.

To Rome With Love marks Allen's first appearance on screen since 2006's under-appreciated Scoop, and it's great to have him back.  He's still every bit the neurotic, obsessed with death, hands ever-cringing, ever-bumbling, and his time around, Allen's character is married to a therapist, a fitting state of affairs for what may presumably be his last part.  Allen still has that strange charm that is either magnetic or the opposite, depending on how you feel about him.

Not quite as charming is the screenplay, which weaves multiple tales that are all fun to watch and build into a greater thematic whole, but is also riddled with dialogue that goes beyond the uncanny valley of reel talk, entering that pseudo-intellectual (to borrow Allen's phrase, which he also used in Paris) name-dropping jargon that is criticized by some of the characters, but still is off-putting and too spottily heightened to feel natural within the world Allen weaves.

But what a beautiful world it is.  Allen's European tour continues, and as usual, he finds time to take in the sights, letting the gorgeous architecture and culture of Rome stand testament to a bygone era, another echo of Paris.  The cinematography isn't as lush and indulgent as one might like, but there are still some gorgeous shots, including at least one 360-degree turn in a piazza (or a plaza, or something) that is decadent in its revelation of how labyrinthine the city appears to a non-Roman.

The film opens and closes with Roman citizens commenting on the multitude of stories: the traffic of life.  It's a flimsy frame, yes, but it works nicely into the ever-expanding dichotomy of commoners and celebrities that the film divulges.  For these Romans, all the tourists and citizens who go by their traffic podium or window each day are, for just a moment, the stars in a European-set drama that lasts mere seconds, and Allen populates the city with a cast of characters whose stories make for longer, more interesting adventures.

Allen's character discovers that his daughter's (Allison Pill) father-in-law-to-be is a brilliant opera singer, and tries to persuade him to leave his life as a mortician behind to pursue fame in the world of classical music.  Penelope Cruz plays a prostitute who poses as the wife of a baffled businessman, while his wife meets and dallies with a much-admired movie star.  Roberto Benigni, who has rarely been seen since his Oscar-winning turn in Life is Beautiful, plays a man who comes to understand how ephemeral fame is, as he becomes the man of the hour for no reason at all (Paris Hilton comes to mind).  Meanwhile, Jesse Eisenberg is haunted by the (ghost? memory? actual presence?) of Alec Baldwin as he grapples with cheating on his girlfriend (Greta Gerwig) with her sexually adventurous friend (Ellen Page).

If it sounds like a lot of plates to keep spinning, it's because it is, and under the weight of so many arcs, the movie starts to sag.  Still, the performances are solid across the board, with Eisenberg and Benigni serving as Allen stand-ins alongside Allen himself, and Ellen Page absolutely devouring her role as the aforementioned pseudo-intellectual.  Baldwin embodies his usual cool persona, and his character is fun (or problematic) for his mysterious quality; scene-to-scene, it's not clear who can see him.  He's a semi-present chorus commenting on the actions of Eisenberg's character, often to too-insightful, hindsight-is-20/20 effect.

Allen isn't celebrated for his story-telling skills, and it's clear why here.  These are stories that have been told before, though put together, they start to make something special.  Unfortunately, the great dialogue and memorable characters aren't fully-formed either, making To Rome With Love a minor note on Allen's resume.  Still, it's a lot of fun and its insight into fame - how ephemeral it is, how entitled the rich and powerful are, how ridiculous star culture as a whole is - is neatly packaged.  If To Rome With Love doesn't satisfy the way Midnight in Paris did, at least we can rest assured knowing we'll have another Allen flick to give it a go next year.