Tales From Slate

Saul Austerlitz has a piece in Slate about Jean-Luc Godard. He writes:

Woody Allen famously cracked wise about fans who only liked the "early, funny movies," shunning his later turn toward the dramatic, or his attempts to grow out of the self-inflicted prison of auteurist style. Godard could be said to face the same dichotomy, his career bisected between the remarkable run of films he made as the leading light of the French New Wave—bookended by 1960's Breathless and 1967's Weekend—and everything that came after. The difference between Godard and Allen, though, is that Godard's early films really, truly are his best.

I think Godard is the emperor's new clothes. There are striking moments, but his filmmaking seems to me clunky, amateurish and shallow. Are his earlier films better than his later, more contemplative work? Who cares.

On the other hand, Woody Allen produced a series of great comedies right off the bat, from Take The Money And Run (1969) to Annie Hall (1977). Ever since then, he's made a bunch of arty films, some funny, some not, some decent, most weak. There's no question his "early, funny movies" are his best. How critics have come to prefer the later stuff is beyond me.

Also in Slate, Troy Patterson likes how Aaron Sorkin insults TV on Studio 60. He notes:

Meanwhile, back in the real world, Saturday Night Live limped out for its 32nd season on Saturday night with a toothless opening sketch about the dimness of George W. Bush. You've already seen it about 500 times.

Actually, the main point of the sketch was Bush is so unpopular that Republicans don't want him campaigning for them. (And note that Patterson doesn't seem to mind the cliche that Bush is stupid, merely that sketches utilizing this caricature don't have enough teeth.)