Irrational Man

Woody Allen – 2015 – USA

Sex, romance and mortality are the well-known – and to some critics, well-worn – issues that permeate Woody Allen’s films, but another, less obvious yet just as persistent theme is crime.  From his first proper feature, Take the Money and Run (1969), through Crimes and Misdemeanors (1989), Shadows and Fog (1991), Small Time Crooks (2000), Match Point (2005) and several others, Allen deals with Dostoyevskyian questions about the criminal impulse, especially with regard to murder, and whether or not guilt is an inevitable karmic punishment or merely a cultural construct.  Irrational Man is the logical extension of this career-long trend in Allen’s films.  Joaquin Phoenix plays Abe Lucas, a philosophy professor in the throes of a mid-life existential crisis characterized by writer’s block, impotence, ennui and depression.  His star student Jill (Emma Stone) strikes up a friendship with him and one day over lunch in a diner they eavesdrop on a conversation in a neighboring booth, in which a woman laments being the victim of a corrupt judge in her child custody case against her ex-husband.  The moment provides a tremendous epiphany to Abe, as he decides that this is the opportunity he has been waiting for to do something decisive and give his life meaning.  By this point, Allen has this material down, and the film benefits from him being able to relax a little and stay focused on his characters, letting them evolve naturally instead of having to endlessly (and implausibly) debate ethical questions as if in a formal symposium.  The performance of Phoenix is crucial and demonstrates Allen’s wisdom as a mature filmmaker.  It would not have worked at all if he’d merely cast a surrogate for himself in the lead as he often has since entering old age; (John Cusack, Edward Norton, Kenneth Brannagh, Jason Biggs, Will Ferrell and, most recently, Jesse Eisenberg have all taken their turns doing their Allen impersonations while playing neurotic New York nebbishes).  But Phoenix is from another world and brings with him the pain and scars of real-life experience that would never be as convincing with the aforementioned actors.  I haven’t been a huge fan of most of Allen’s films since the turn of the century, and it’s only been with the last two – Magic in the Moonlight (2014) and Irrational Man – that I’ve started to see the substance come back strongly.  These films, as most of his best work, find a perfect balance accommodating humor, warmth and sober meditations on the most difficult questions of life without ever seeming like one is artificially taking precedence over the other.  Irrational Man is not grueling but it isn’t frivolous either.  It’s a rewarding film that attempts to show – as many Allen films do – that intelligence has its benefits and responsibilities but is no guarantor of understanding or happiness.