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Misanthropic Thunder

There's a scene at the end of Woody Allen's "Hannah and Her Sisters" in which Woody's character (a hypochondriacal nebbish, natch) finds a modicum of solace in a Marx Brothers movie. Over the course of that 1986 gem, his character has had a cancer scare, attempted suicide and contemplated the meaninglessness of existence. But for that brief moment, as Groucho plays the heads of tin-plated soldiers like a xylophone, he forgets about it and laughs. He's entertained. "Whatever Works", the writer-director's most serious comedy since 1997's brilliantly black "Deconstructing Harry", feels like an attempt to craft a film out of that simple principle: whatever makes you happy, no matter how ridiculous, is fine; whatever works.

As we're repeatedly reminded throughout the film, Mr. Allen's latest avatar, Boris Yellnikoff (Larry David), is a misanthrope who fancies himself a genius (he was once a candidate for the Noble Prize for quantum physics). Boris opens the film with a three-minute monologue about everything that's terrible in the world. Since this is a Woody Allen movie, it's a pretty funny three minutes. Boris is the kind of Allen character who sits at sidewalk cafes with his buddies denouncing organized religion. He also walks with a limp from a failed suicide attempt (he landed on his building's canopy) and has a penchant for breaking the fourth-wall and speaking directly to the audience.

One day, on the way home to his downtown apartment, Boris is approached by a vagrant begging for food. In a gigantic leap of logic, Boris invites the drifter up to his apartment for something to eat. This might have a bit to do with the fact that the beggar is a young blonde played by Evan Rachel Wood. But even still, it's hard to swallow. Once the two begin their smart-vs-dumb squabbling, a minor connection forms. He sees her as a twit he can lord over - she sees him as a provider. It's "Pygmalion" Woody Allen-style. Months pass, and where the relationship goes from there is best left to the film. Suffice to say that Mr. Allen hasn't lost his touch for writing vibrant characters and zippy dialogue.

For his return to Manhattan-based comedies, Mr. Allen dusted off a script he had initially written for Zero Mostel. The fact that the actor died in 1977 gives you an idea how long it's been sitting around. Still, with the exception of a few stale plot points, Mr. Allen manages to keep it fresh. This is largely due to the casting of the "Curb Your Enthusiasm" star in the lead role. In Larry David, Mr. Allen may have finally found the perfect representative. This is the type of cast member Mr. Allen should be reusing, rather than wasting his time with Scarlett Johansson. Mr. David is completely comfortable spitting venomous dialogue (always with a smirk of recognition). And, of course, he's completely unselfconscious, happy to tromp around in a bathrobe and socks for much of the film. As a result, Boris becomes somewhat fascinating in an Archie Bunker kind of way.

Ms. Wood, clearly vying for a "Mighty Aphrodite"-era Mira Sorvino Oscar nod, does better-than-expected in a difficult role. Her Melodie St. Ann Celestine is a dim Mississippian bulb. She takes relentless verbal abuse from Boris, but her unwavering Southern warmth acts as a shield. Her character may be annoyingly slow, but she is definitely a character.

As you might expect, over the course of the film Boris and Melodie become an item. Seeing yet another May-December wish-fulfillment relationship in a Woody Allen movie is undeniably distracting. That it's treated with almost Disney-esque modesty (not even an on-screen hug is exchanged) makes it even more so - as if not addressing the sexuality of their relationship (aside from one throwaway Viagra joke) makes it any less troubling (this from a man who's been in psychoanalysis for 40 years).

Regardless of that awkwardness, there are still some moments of classic Allen in the film - as in a discussion around God's sexuality ("he's a decorator!"). And after spending some time overseas ("Match Point", "Vicky Cristina Barcelona"), it's good to have New York's most prolific director back in his hometown. Though "Whatever" doesn't stand up against his best, it's a reminder that Mr. Allen can still deliver laughs. They can't all be gems, but hey, whatever works.