Eugene David
...The One-Minute Pundit

Monday, March 28, 2005


I said I wouldn't mention WOODSTER the PERV until his next release in three months, but ArtsJournal.com also did a GOOD THING and linked to this:

In a sense, Allen's Manhattan has become a cultural prison-island, where you can check in but never leave and where the collective guilt isn't criminal behavior, it's self-absorption and haute pretentiousness. The morality is relative: Extramarital affairs and hypocrisy, for instance, are punch lines and realistic quandaries rather than sins.

This climate is as rarefied and anemic as the way these New Yorkers most likely consider Appalachian life: an inbred inflexibility to outside ideas, a feeling of insular sanctimoniousness. Allen's New Yorkers may not twang tinny guitars in the mountains, but they clamor to watch Bartok string quartets with similarly reflexive reverence. There, I've said it: Woody Allen's people have become urbane rednecks.


Would this also apply to OUTER NEW YORKS as well?

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