Woody Allen: A Biography [Hardcover]

Unfortunately, after a fairly early point I found myself unable to trust Baxter's accuracy. Mistakes in the book range from the sophomoric to the libellous. Hibernia is Ireland, not Scotland as Baxter thinks on page 7. It was not Lenny Bruce's wife who performed the orgiastic act attributed to her on page 77, and it took place in LA, not Greenwich Village as Baxter suggests. Worse, he sometimes garbles Allen film plots and even jokes.

More annoying than the falsehoods are the superfluous facts. There is an excess of filler in the form of irrelevant background information. In 'Take The Money And Run' there's a sequence where the Allen character is sent to jail which consists of a lengthy 'March of Time' style newsreel montage depicting the 1950s, followed by the words, 'Virgil, in jail, misses all of it.' This book is often risibly like that. Baxter spends a page describing social upheavals caused by changes to the NYC transport systems, including a brief synopsis of the career of Robert Moses, and then concludes, 'Little of this impinged on Allen's world.' He notes Allen's appearance at a Eugene McCarthy fundraiser and then spends half a page describing the 1968 Chicago convention. One waits for the revelation that Allen was there, haplessly fleeing riot police like his character in 'Bananas'. But no: unable to attempt even a token connection to Allen's life and work, Baxter simply breaks the text at this point and resumes with something different.

A more serious flaw is that, racing non-stop from film to film (a pattern, admittedly, that much of Allen's life has shared), Baxter does not give enough space to considering the people in Allen's life, in particular the women. A partial exception is Mia Farrow, a character analysis of whom Baxter circles around but ultimately shies away from. Diane Keaton gets unaccountably short shrift and so too does Louise Lasser, arguably Woody's dark lady and the inspiration for several of the more interesting characters in his films. Surprisingly, this is one of the many areas on which Eric Lax's 1991 authorized biography is more interesting.

As for the films, Baxter is often curmudgeonly in his analysis of their merits. By quoting the lukewarm early critical reactions much of Allen's work has received unbalanced by more positive later assessments, or emphasizing that critical plaudits often went hand in hand with domestic box office indifference, Baxter comes close to presenting a picture of Allen as a man who has failed miserably at everything to which he has turned his hand.

Indeed, much of this book is dispiriting work. Baxter does not merely describe Allen's famously bleak outlook but manages to communicate it to the reader. It is de rigeur in modern biography, and a guarantor of sales, to suggest that your subject is either a bit of a heel and a creative magpie, or that they have not had much fun out of life; to suggest both at once is merely depressing.

Besides, all of Allen's fans know in our hearts that, a lot of impressive evidence notwithstanding, the hapless romantic clown of the early funny films is the real Woody. Whether you are a fan or not, I recommend Eric Lax's underrated official biography, or Stig Bjorkman's lengthy interview 'Woody Allen on Woody Allen' (1994), hagiographic though they are at times, as far more entertaining and informative than this book.

In dealing with Kubrick, the technique of dividing the man's life up into chapters headed by the film he was working on at the time works perfectly, for Kubrick sometimes spent seven years between films. To say a biographical event is part of the "Full Metal Jacket" years actually denotes a grand period in the director's life. For Woody Allen, a man who has directed a film a year for the last thirty-four years, this technique becomes jumbled easily (some chapters need to be grouped by two or three films, which may not otherwise be connected except that the same funny little man wrote and directed them). And Baxter still manages to confuse the reader regarding chronology of events, even though he has such small periods of time to work with.

That being said, he does a fine job explicating the 'Woody' persona (read "mensch") with Woody the man (read "anti-social, calculating genius"). He never panders to paperback Freud wisdom, just giving cold hard truths about the man.

I tended to enjoy the chapters dealing with the films I most enjoyed (late '70's), and felt a constant sense of doom when dealing with the troubled nineties. Surprisingly, Woody doesn't come off as the villain here. That honour goes to Mia, who is portrayed as a manipulative, scheming, materialistic waif-whore. Woody's foibles are justifiably explained, and maybe rightly so. I mean, he's been warning us about his own foibles for years (for a good precursor to the whole Soon-Yin debacle, see Ike and Tracy's relationship in 'Manhattan'). And I think that that's the strength of Baxter's book: he at once is able to separate Woody's art and life, while showing how they are intrinsically related.