‘Woody Allen: A Travesty of a Mockery of a Sham’ Book Review

Recently, in need of an undemanding laugh, I turned to the directorial debut of America’s preeminent canceled filmmaker. In his 1969 film Take the Money and Run, Woody Allen is Virgil Starkwell, a social misfit whose attempts to establish himself as a bank robber are foiled by bad planning and, in the case of a haphazardly written holdup note, shoddy penmanship. The mockumentary-style film operates on the principle that the more absurd the situation, the more gravely it should be presented. For example, the deathly serious–sounding narrator describes the birth of Virgil’s son this way: “They name the boy Jonathan Ralph Starkwell, after Virgil’s mother” — implying without even the hint of a wink that Virgil’s mother is named “Jonathan Ralph.” Later, while on the run, Virgil and his family are said to be “living like hunted animals,” the visual proof of which is offered when Virgil, whom Allen plays with stoical blankness, produces a slice of deli meat that he has been keeping in his wallet.

Alas, at this late date, most people are less familiar with Woody Allen the Hilarious than with Woody Allen the Accused. Undeniably, Allen transgressed against familial boundaries and convention when, sometime in 1991, he pursued a romance with Soon-Yi Previn, the grown adopted daughter of the woman who had served as his chief muse and personal companion, Mia Farrow. But there is little evidence to support Farrow’s allegation, leveled the following year, that Allen had sexually abused their own seven-year-old adopted daughter, Dylan — a charge that Allen has unswervingly denied.

About the Author

Peter Tonguette

Peter Tonguette is the Life & Arts editor of the Washington Examiner magazine and is writing a biography of Peter Bogdanovich.

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Recently, in need of an undemanding laugh, I turned to the directorial debut of America’s preeminent canceled filmmaker. In his 1969 film Take the Money and Run, Woody Allen is Virgil Starkwell, a social misfit whose attempts to establish himself as a bank robber are foiled by bad planning and, in the case of a haphazardly written holdup note, shoddy penmanship. The mockumentary-style film operates on the principle that the more absurd the situation, the more gravely it should be presented. For example, the deathly serious–sounding narrator describes the birth of Virgil’s son this way: “They name the boy Jonathan Ralph Starkwell, after Virgil’s mother” — implying without even the hint of a wink that Virgil’s mother is named “Jonathan Ralph.” Later, while on the run, Virgil and his family are said to be “living like hunted animals,” the visual proof of which is offered when Virgil, whom Allen plays with stoical blankness, produces a slice of deli meat that he has been keeping in his wallet.

Alas, at this late date, most people are less familiar with Woody Allen the Hilarious than with Woody Allen the Accused. Undeniably, Allen transgressed against familial boundaries and convention when, sometime in 1991, he pursued a romance with Soon-Yi Previn, the grown adopted daughter of the woman who had served as his chief muse and personal companion, Mia Farrow. But there is little evidence to support Farrow’s allegation, leveled the following year, that Allen had sexually abused their own seven-year-old adopted daughter, Dylan — a charge that Allen has unswervingly denied.