Mia Farrow, The Purple Rose of Cairo

Wednesday, April 06, 2005

David Denby

“…. Cecilia is a kind of pathetic sociological construct--the Depression-movie fan for whom the pictures have become a substitute for life.

“Forlorn and mousy, Cecilia would be unbearable if played by anyone but Mia Farrow. Beauty counts for a lot in any movie actress, but especially in an actress playing sweet, vulnerable women--roles in which suffering can easily appear glum and drippy. When Farrow was younger--in Rosemary's Baby, say--her eyes seemed to fill her entire face, and even though she was not a great or even an inventive actress, we seemed to be looking straight into her soul. Farrow has never been more waiflike than she is in The Purple Rose of Cairo, but she's older and sadder--her desperation has more strength now. In truth, she's a little too old for the role of Cecilia, but her years work for her--she seems to be aging from lack of attention.

“…. "The Purple Rose of Cairo" [the movie within The Purple Rose of Cairo] is intended, I think, to be rather feeble… Of course, the feebleness is apparent only to us; Cecilia is enthralled by the picture. Woody Allen makes her a pure dumb fan, with no sense of humor about her obsession. He wants to have it both ways--he wants her to be so absorbed in movies she's virtually a candidate for a sick joke, and he wants her to be a heroine too….

“Jeff Daniels… [is] charming here--the perfect, unthreatening bozo. Yet I wish Woody Allen hadn't selected someone so tame… Daniels is charming with Mia Farrow, but they are both so threadbare in manner, so easily pleased with each other, that the scenes don't achieve the giddy magic I was hoping for….

“…. [F]or all its attentiveness to ordinary folk, the movie, in the end, is strikingly callous…. It's as if the director were saying to the movie audience, "You people may have drab lives, but at least you've got the dreams that we talented people have generously given you." It's not the kind of thing a movie director should say, or even imply, out loud.”

David Denby
New York, March 11, 1985

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