Poop Scoop

I recently had the displeasure of going to see the new Woody Allen movie. I went for three reasons:

1. Shirtless Hugh Jackman
2. Radiant Scarlett Johansson
3. I heard many people say Match Point was very good

Of these reasons, only the first satisfied me at all and even then only for about 30 seconds.

It’s clear in this film that Allen is becoming a sad parody of himself. The majority of this half-assed script involves complicated and convoluted Vaudevillean set ups for unfunny puns and punchlines, delivered by Allen with a sort of resignation. And poor Johansson, here directed by Allen to be his surrogate, picking up where people like Kenneth Branaugh have left off in the past. Unfortunately, Johansson’s kvetching doesn’t suit her and, side-by-side with Allen for much of the film, she seems a cheaper, more pleasant-looking alternative to him.

Jackman is lucky; he survives the film relatively unscathed, but playing a charming millionaire playboy with dashing good looks probably isn’t much of a stretch for him. Additionally, he perfects the art of acting topless, and I believe this might be one of the few films in recent memory where the leading man is topless more often than his love interest. Let’s keep this up.

Overall, there isn’t anything to redeem this tacky, poorly-plotted film. Glacially paced with questionable “clues” along the way, Scoop doesn’t offer anything we haven’t seen before—or better.

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