
Deceptively pretentious cretins who once regrettably lay claim to my friendship would often incessantly wax lyrical about Woody Allen in some vaguely desperate attempt to appear enlightened, intellectual, or something less obviously, morbidly moronic. That fact, combined with inherent laziness, resulted in my indirect boycott of everything from Annie Hall to Zelig until today. 'Whatever Works' is genuinely witty, genuinely insightful and...
...hold on - I'm not sad enough to write a flowery film review for a self-indulgent ghost blog. Who the fuck am I talking to anyway?