Reviewed by Colin Jacobson (July 25, 2024)
Movies can provoke any emotional reaction under the sun. Laughter, tears, anxiety, joy, nausea - you name it, and you can likely think of a film that made you feel that way.
If I had to attach one word to the way I felt as I watched Woody Allen’s September, it would be “sleepy”. Though the flick only runs for 83 minutes, I could barely keep my eyes open during this dreary and turgid affair.
September delivers a character piece, albeit one with little drama and lackluster participants. The film focuses on a brief period of a few days during which some friends and relatives intermingle at the house owned by Lane (Mia Farrow).
Lane’s mother Diane (Elaine Stritch) and her boyfriend Lloyd (Jack Warden) stop in for a brief period and we also meet Lane’s friends Steffie (Dianne Wiest), Howard (Denholm Elliott), and Peter (Sam Waterston). Some tension is in the air because of Lane’s semi-estranged relationship with her mother.
It seems that Diane is a pretty pushy old broad, and weak-willed Lane is tired of her mom’s meddling and lack of support. However, that mother and daughter stress is only one of the overtones found during September.
We also find a very muddled series of crushes, as Howard loves Lane who loves Peter who loves Steffie who’s married and has kids who she’s ignoring for the summer so she can sort out her own mixed up feelings. Everyone frets about their feelings and seems fairly tense.
In a nutshell, that’s what September is about: feelings, and usually they’re unpleasant. Except for brassy old Diane and tolerant Lloyd, everyone else is so uptight and agitated that they all seem like they’re going to explode.
Actually, this is an overstatement, as the two men involved in this love rectangle - or pentagon, if we include Steffie’s unseen husband - stay fairly calm. It’s the women who corner the market on nerves.
Since all of these folks feel terribly self-centered, it’s no mean feat to stand out in the crowd, but both Farrow and Wiest do so with their frightfully annoying characters. Granted, Farrow’s often fairly irritating, so her petulant moaning as Lane comes as no surprise.
However, I usually enjoy West, which made the level at which I disliked Steffie so astonishing. Among a crew of whiners, Steffie seems like the worst of the bunch.
For one, it appears gallingly egocentric of her to abandon her family so she can idly play with her friends for the summer. In addition, Wiest’s snippy demeanor ensures that we’ll find virtually nothing to like about her.
Wiest also becomes saddled with the worst dialogue in the movie. Amazingly, the alleged genius that is Woody Allen apparently wrote a line in which Steffie discusses her husband:
“He’s a radiologist. He takes x-rays but I never let him take them of me because if he looked inside, he’d see things that he wouldn’t understand and he’d be terribly hurt.”
Woof!
While most of the dialogue isn’t quite that bad, the vast majority seems to be depressingly superficial and pretentious. Allen desperately wants to make statements about life and relationships, but it all appears mind-numbingly banal and pointless.
Unfortunately, Allen usually populates his films with pompous members of the alleged intelligentsia, and they do more than whine about their dreary lives. Perhaps this nonsense makes Allen and his friends feel better about themselves, but it’s hell to watch it.
If there’s anything positive about September, I can’t find it. It’s not that I oppose this kind of film, because I don’t. I actually really liked Bergman’s Autumn Sonata, a work that Allen blatantly rips off for parts of September.
The problem is that Allen is no Bergman. That director could handle relationship films and make them seem effortlessly real and deep at the same time.
Allen comes off as nothing more than a sad pretender. His own dissatisfaction with his comedic legacy appears clear through his lousy “dramatic” works, and September stands as a miserable testament to the worst material put out by this highly-regarded director.