Deconstructing Harry (1997)

Written and directed by Woody Allen, this is one of his less impressive efforts. Harry (Allen) is a bestselling writer who has angered friends and family by putting them into his stories in only loosely fictionalised form. This indiscretion gets him into trouble again and again. 

The film tells his story, partly through visualisations of the stories he created, and it works on multiple levels in a very post-modern kind of way. As a narrative device, that’s welcome. But there are major flaws. There are some good lines but overall it’s just not funny enough. Some of the fantasy sequences (such as a trip to Hell) fall flat. There’s also something quite distasteful about it. We see Harry take off on a road trip with a prostitute, kidnapping his own child along the way – not exactly hilarious. 

Allen seems out of place against the glamorous Elizabeth Shue and Kirstie Alley, so the benefit of a skilled, all-star cast is diminished by that jarring mismatch. Also featured are Richard Benjamin, Billy Crystal, Paul Giamatti, Mariel Hemingway, Julia Louis-Dreyfus, Tobey Maguire, Demi Moore, Stanley Tucci and Robin Williams.

The most interesting aspect is the unusual editing, with sudden jump-cuts within scenes. As such, it seems to predict the annoying tic later used by countless YouTubers.

When Harry Met Sally... (1989)

This romantic comedy directed by Rob Reiner isn’t up to his usual standards. Billy Crystal and Meg Ryan play the mutually attracted New Yorkers intent on staying just friends. There are some funny moments, but others fall flat. Billy Crystal emerges as difficult to like. I know that’s meant to be part of the character, but the problem is that I kept disliking him even after we were supposed to believe he had finally stopped being shallow and grown up.

Meg Ryan is as charming as ever and makes acting seem very natural. In particular, her crying scene – in which he hands her tissues and she tosses them over her shoulder – is brilliantly done. Carrie Fisher plays their friend (comically named Marie Fisher) and is also excellent. But overall, something was missing – chemistry, perhaps. Or maybe it’s just not believable enough.

Nora Ephron would go on to write funnier Meg Ryan films – Sleepless in Seattle (1993) and You’ve Got Mail (1998).