It's a beautiful, intelligent mooo-vie!

Ewan McGregor, Colin Farrell, and Woody Allen on set of "Cassandra's Dream"

Lately, despite his hard work, it's always a mixed bag when Woody Allen releases a new film. It's admirable that Mr. Allen attempts to put out one film a year. And unfortunately, some would want to write him off as beyond his prime. So it's always great to prove them wrong, which is what Mr. Allen does in his new film Cassandra's Dream, now playing in Hartford at Cinema City.

First off, I have to thank the proprietors of Cinema City, Bow-Tie Cinemas, for bringing the film to Hartford and not to their more upscale 'art theater' in West Hartford's Blue Back Square. Why, you ask? Basically, it's a class thing. Why should inner city residents have to go to the suburbs to watch 'art films'? Secondly, the area has annoying paid parking. It's bad enough to have the steep prices for going to the theater, but to add parking is just insulting. Bow-Tie has three theaters in the area, two usually screening the same thing. But if I want to see a 'big art film', like say No Country for Old Men, The Orphanage, or the recently released There Will Be Blood, Bow-Tie has decided to only screen those in the West Hartford Theater, even though films such as Juno and The Bucket List get to screen at multiple locations. To be fair, they are at least spreading some of the wealth (the overhyped Atonement is playing at Cinema City), but it seems that the big ticket draws such as The Kite Runner, gets sent to a 'luxury' theater. West Hartford can have Keira Knightly; I would have liked to have seen No Country... in my local multiplex like it opened around the country, instead of paying for lousy parking at a luxury development. (For the record, I actually drove out to Manchester to see it there.)

But enough griping, let's discuss Cassandra's Dream. Frankly, any film where one actually cares about Colin Farrell as a character without having to think of the irritating celebrity, gets immediate credit. (I sat through Oliver Stone's wet dream known as Alexander: the I'm-not-gay-like-Senator-craig version; while Mr. Farrell wasn't the reason it sucked giant elephant testicles, he certainly wasn't convincing as a blond Greek... but I digress, yet again.) Ewan McGregor and Colin Farrell convincingly portray working class London brothers who aspire to at least get by in life while digging their graves deeper and deeper. At the outset, the two purchase a small boat together, remembering a time when their beloved wealthy uncle did the same for them in Ireland. The name the ship Cassandra's Dream, and as in any Greek Tragedy which Mr. Allen has paid homage to in the past, the audience knows this happiness will not last.

Mr. Farrell's Terry is shown to be the working class member of the family with vices such as drinking, pain pills, and gambling. The latter gets him to his most trouble, as he takes risks for because of the rush of it. But he is also the sensitive one of the two, being in a committed relationship, and always harping on a presumably idyllic childhood with his family. In contrast, Mr. McGregor's Ian is set up by his parents as 'the brains and looks', the one with potential. Ian begrudgingly manages his dad's restaurant, always wanting to get out of England like his dear Uncle Howard. Going to great lengths to ever impress people, Ian borrows expensive antique cars from the garage Terry works at, while telling an actress he's wooing that he is a hotel investor moving to California to open a new chain. Having always been a fan of Ewan McGregor, it's tough to say this, but Colin Farrell actually outshines him in the film. Both are excellent, but Mr. Farrell is able to make us sympathize with the conflicted Terry, while Ian's shallowness keeps the viewer - like his family - distant.

One of the most admirable things about this film is the way Mr. Allen builds up the drama, suspense, and tragedy. Another critic had accused him of just making a bad Hitchcock rip-off. Frankly, while this film clearly pays homage to Mr. Hitchcock, it is much more in the tradition of the neo-realist European films that Mr. Allen has always reflected upon, in both his comedies and dramas. After building up the characters, with both their charms and flaws (what makes them so credible), Mr. Allen gives us what lesser filmmakers would make the main story: Terry gets in over his head with gambling and turns to Ian to bail him out, while Ian himself is attempting to build up his lie to win his girl over. Sure Ian is about to enter into an investment, but he's no where the self-made man he has led her to believe. Enter their deus ex machina: Uncle Howard.

And just like the master comedian he is, Mr. Allen pulls the rug from underneath the brothers and the audience and turns the tables on them. Where Uncle Howard should be saving them, he ends up complicating matters more. For me to say anymore, would ruin a viewer's experience with this film. It truly is wonderful cinematic storytelling, crafted better than most of his peers can muster (just check out Francis Coppola's latest, any of the Star Wars tripe, or even this new Sidney Lumet some are championing). Mr. Allen's self-imposed exile his doing him well. Now only if he would keep the lesser films locked away, shown at his family gatherings.

But hey, I loved Stardust Memories.