alice.

 is it blasphemy to admit that annie hall is not my favorite woody allen film? alice isn't my favorite either, but it is pretty fantastic. okay, maybe i just don't like annie hall.

alice tate, played with charming conviction by the always sensational mia farrow, is a bored madison avenue housewife whose life of privilege takes a dramatic turn when she is referred to a chinese herbal remedy specialist. dressed to the nines and draped in a luxe fur, alice sits in a dingy waiting room while the doctor prescribes a dizzying array of natural concoctions, all of which carry some pretty gnarly side effects: invisibility, hallucinations, the ability to...fly.

 this film is great in many different ways: first, it made me realize just how many times william hurt has played a dislikable prick (re: the accidental tourist, broadcast news, children of a lesser god, a history of violence). secondly, it is led by one of allen's most empathetic female characters (for a change), while still adhering to his trademark themes of neuroses, infidelity, writing and doing-the-right-thing. by the end, the once perpetual name-dropper, now so indebted to the eye-opening effects of non-traditional medicine, turns her back on the world of bergdorf goodman and helena rubinstein for mother teresa, an epiphany that mirrors the actress's own childhood years of wealth and her current dedication to humanitarian work.

...and lastly, of course, the clothing!

 there is nothing more satisfying than a trip back to early nineties manhattan fashion.

 

 

 

 

 

pieces, bowler hat

ralph lauren, black & white striped silk shirt

dkny, lace tunic

rachel antonoff, collared jumper

jason wu, lace blouse

simonetta ravizza, sofia fur coat

valentino, pleated skirt

jacques vert, vermillion red cape

valentino, red coat dress

 

hudson's bay signature blanket

chanel, quilted handbag

featuring a stellar cast of supporting actresses -- judy davis, gwen verdon, bernadette peters, robin bartlett, cybil shepard, blythe danner and julie kavner -- all decked out à la ladies who lunch, sadly, in criminally short amounts of individual screen times.

a very odd and interesting picture, the countless woody-isms and a to-the-bone performance by his ex (and the adoptive mother of his current wife) make this a pleasantly surprising piece in allen's unpredictably shaky repertoire.