I like Larry David. I like Woody Allen. So, when I heard that Woody and Larry were teaming up for Whatever Works, I thought: “Why not?” It might not be terrible, given that Woody’s been experiencing something of a renaissance lately, with one film (Match Point) nominated for Best Picture and his latest — last year’s Vicky Cristina Barcelona – a popular and critical success.
Alas, it was not to be. Whatever Works … doesn’t. Har. I’ve always wanted to write one of those joke lines. In fact, the best thing about this film is the potential for mischief in the title. I can imagine Nothing Works, Water Works, and Nobody Works. Oh, yes, and simply Whatever … (pronounced, of course, in a Valley girl whine: What-ev-ah!).
The sad fact of the matter is that it doesn’t work, and rather than engage in the usual Wood-ites’ laments about how I don’t know why I even bother any more, how he’s failed his loyal fans again, I’ll just cut to the chase. There are two things I think renders this film dead on arrival: the casting and the script.
First, the casting: Larry David (as Boris Yellnikov) is just horrible in this. He has even less depth than Woody himself does as an actor, and that’s not a lot. He is continually outclassed, first by Evan Rachel Wood as his (tiresomely) young, but (exceedingly) cute love, who manages to out corn-pone the Beverly Hillbillies in her horribly-fake Southern ways. Then, just about everybody else runs rings around him, even one-note comic Michael McKean. I understand why he was chosen to play Allen’s surrogate — David’s character on HBO is a kvetching mensch similar to Woody’s screen persona — but it just doesn’t work. Zero Mostel would have been a better choice.
Which leads me to point two. Apparently, Zero was Allen’s original choice to play this role, back in the mid-70s when it was written. Yes, that’s right: the mid-70s. And when Mostel died in 1977, he shelved it until the writer’s strike forced him to dig it out of wherever it was languishing; would that it would’ve been a deeper hole, or shelf, or … well, you get the idea.
Zero just maybe could have pulled it off … in 1975. It has that dated feel about it, with Yellnikov as a “wise” guide, who turns to the camera and fills us in — wisely — about life. Underneath Mostel’s gruff exterior (and razor-sharp comic timing) was a softy with soulful eyes, somebody from whom you might actually want to learn about life, the universe, and everything. And the problem is, David gives the impression that underneath his gruff exterior lies nothing more than an asshole. And who wants to learn about life from one of those?
But the one-man-Greek-chorus structure (which Mostel perfected in A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum in the first place) isn’t the script’s main problem. The main problem is its free-spirit vibe that was dated even in the early eighties when Woody evoked it in A Midsummer Night’s Sex Comedy. Bumpkins come to New York, learn about life, become free-loving — indeed, threesome-loving — bohemians, and all is right with the world.
Ho, hum.































I never made a real effort to see this film mostly because of the negative reviews I’ve read, such as this one. I was looking forward to this as well for Larry David — I love him on Curb Your Enthusiasm — and I was intrigued to see Evan Rachel Wood in a more lighthearted, comedic role. After her brutally emotional turns in Thirteen and The Wrestler, this seems like an interesting role for her. I might rent this one regardless just to see it for myself.
Danny, Evan Rachel Wood was actually pretty good in this. For that, if you’re so inclined, it might be worth a rental.
Rick – gotta agree with you about Larry David in this one (and,coincidentally,I just re-watched this over the holiday weekend). He’s a funny guy, but he’s not really an actor, and he doesn’t pull this off. Watching it the second time, I could really see Zero Mostel in the part and imagine how much better it would have been. But I thought Patricia Clarkson single-handedly saved the movie. When she showed up in the film’s second act, it was like someone opened a window and let the fresh air and sunshine in. I didn’t laugh once up till that point, but then I (and every other member of my family who watched with me) laughed at almost everything Clarkson said and did from that point on.
Pat, Clarkson is one of my favorite actors — I’ve been known to call her the Queen of the Indies (along with Cathernine Keener) — but she was over-the-top in this one. I think it was the script, and Allen must have encouraged her to play the part like that. Unfortunately, she was like no Southern woman I’ve ever met, and I’ve met — and know — a lot.
I think she represented what a lot of folks from outside the region imagine Southerners are … overly-religious, blond and stupid. I know — I’m originally from Seattle, and I used to think that way myself.
Another filmmaker I really admire — John Sayles — came to Alabama and made a film called Honeydripper, about African American life centered around a juke joint in the fifties. I saw it here in town with Sayles present, and I really wanted to like it, but it was filled with the most blatant, Weezy-Jefferson stereotypes I’ve ever seen. He’d obviously spent no real time among Southern black people, and ended up re-enforcing a stereotype many Southerners have of the pointy-headed Northern liberal who just doesn’t get it.
Rick, I can certainly believe that Clarkson’s character probably bears no relationship whatsoever to real Southern women, but I thought she was good enough and funny enough to transcend Allen’s script.
And that’s a drag about Sayles. I like his films a lot – I’m disappointed that he apparently screwed that one up.(Haven’t seen it, but not sure I want to now.)
Yeah, I like Sayles’ movies, too … but this wasn’t a very good one, at least from a writing standpoint … it was beautifully shot on location, however …
I wonder if he would have cast a young girl opposite Mostel in the 70s, or if this is the mature Woody fixation at play.
Well, he had that fixation in the 70s, didn’t he? Mariel Hemingway in Manhattan, for one.
By Jove, you’re right!
Whew! First time this month!