Hannah and Her Sisters

Hannah and Her Sisters is a warm, funny family comedy, and we recommend it with a small reservation about how neatly its people can explain themselves. Woody Allen, who writes and directs, follows three sisters and their circle through an episodic story framed by Thanksgiving. He is interested in how a private romantic problem becomes everybody else’s business. Staying with several people gives us time to understand why their feelings seem reasonable to them.

The sisters have to be worth watching separately, and the casting gets that right. Mia Farrow’s Hannah gives the family scenes a steadiness that asks us to look past the more demonstrative performances. Barbara Hershey’s Lee is absorbing in her uncertainty, and Hershey resists overplaying it. Dianne Wiest’s Holly is especially affecting: the humour never quite conceals the hurt, and she can make a comic line sound like something it cost a person to say.

Michael Caine makes the strongest impression as Elliot. Caine gives romantic longing an earnestness that is faintly embarrassing to watch, because he lets us see how much the feelings matter to the person having them. We were moved by his seriousness. An actor could make this material safe by inviting us to laugh at a fool in love; Caine makes Elliot’s discomfort harder to dismiss.

Carlo Di Palma’s photography gives the family scenes a warmth that makes spending time with these people appealing, even when their company is difficult. Stuart Wurtzel’s production design adds a sense of domestic familiarity that suits the sisters’ emotional dependence on one another. Susan E. Morse’s editing keeps the separate episodes connected, with the white-on-black title cards making the divisions easy to follow. Cole Porter’s songs supply a relaxed pleasure that usefully offsets the effort everyone puts into managing their feelings.

The main reservation concerns Allen’s writing, including the part he gives himself as Mickey Sachs. Mickey’s hypochondria is funny, but its comic possibilities are easier to anticipate than the sisters’ responses to one another. There are also moments when a line sounds too carefully polished for the conversation containing it. We start noticing the writer making everybody interesting, which distracts from the actors’ work in making them believable.

As a romantic comedy, it is unusually attentive to what lovers owe the people around them. The sisters’ dependence on one another means that a relationship never concerns only the couple in it. That gives the jokes consequences without requiring the film to become solemn whenever somebody is hurt. The affection feels persuasive because these people can irritate one another and still want to remain close, something comedies too often reduce to a row followed by an apology.

At 107 minutes, the film gives its ensemble room without making the evening feel crowded. We would happily have spent longer with Wiest, though giving Holly more of it might have upset the balance. Choose it when you can enjoy a family gathering without needing everybody there to behave well.