Judy Davis and Sydney Pollack make Woody Allen’s marriage comedy painfully funny. The restless documentary style sometimes gets between us and the performances, but the people are worth the trouble.
Woody Allen’s Husbands and Wives is a sharp, uncomfortable comedy, worth seeing for its actors despite a distracting documentary manner. Allen, who writes and directs, considers what happens when a failing marriage makes other people examine their own arrangements. Nobody seems reassured by the examination. The interest lies in watching articulate people discover that being able to explain their unhappiness does not make them any better at living with it.
Judy Davis gives Sally’s unhappiness a force that makes the comedy uncomfortable. Her delivery is sharp enough to get a laugh before the distress beneath it has registered, and she never makes that distress seem put on for our benefit. We laughed, then felt slightly ashamed of ourselves. It was Davis who did it: she makes us enjoy the complaint, then leaves us listening to someone who is plainly hurting. Her performance is the strongest reason to stay with these people.
Sydney Pollack is just as valuable as Jack. His performance makes spending time with someone unhappy feel tiring in a recognisable way, yet he holds our attention without making Jack more agreeable. Allen’s Gabe Roth and Mia Farrow’s Judy Roth give the ensemble further differences of temperament to work with. It matters that these people do not all sound like the same author making the same complaint, even when the film keeps returning to familiar disappointments.
Carlo Di Palma’s handheld cinematography is harder to warm to. The restless frame suits people who cannot settle their feelings, but it also keeps drawing attention to the effort being made to look spontaneous. At times we wanted the camera to stay still and let Davis or Pollack do the work. The documentary effect becomes wearing because the actors have already made us uncomfortable, and we would rather concentrate on them.
Susan E. Morse’s editing keeps these troubled relationships easy to follow. We can understand the strains between these people without needing to agree with their explanations, which is no small help in a film so occupied by self-analysis. Santo Loquasto’s production design is appropriately unobtrusive: the surroundings do not compete with the actors for attention. The film could use more of that restraint in its photography.
Allen’s writing has a related limitation: the doubts about marriage sometimes become predictable. The characters are allowed to be confused, selfish and perceptive, but their talk can leave us waiting for another reason why living together is difficult. At those points, the disappointment becomes apparent before the conversation has finished. Still, Davis and Pollack give individual complaints enough urgency to prevent the whole thing from becoming a lecture.
Against the expectations of a romantic comedy, Husbands and Wives offers little reassurance, though it understands the fear that makes people keep asking for it. Its 108 minutes are worth giving to performers who can make unhappy talk this absorbing. We recommend it if your taste in relationship comedy allows for people you would hesitate to invite round. If handheld filming irritates you, there will be two sources of aggravation to contend with.
