Woody Allen’s love story to the movies – everything about the movies. From characters and script to passing over your money for a ticket and sitting in a dark theater while munching popcorn. This description makes it sound like I liked this film but I didn’t really fall for The Purple Rose of Cairo.
Set in depression era USA our heroine escapes her mundane life, abusive unemployed husband and lack of money by buying a ticket to dreams or as we prefer to call them, the movies. She sees the same movie over and over again and eventually falls in love with one of the characters on the screen. Everything goes a bit cray cray at this point as the character jumps through the fourth wall and into her life. As far as I’m concerned everything went to poop right about that moment.
Maybe it was a dream but it would just be too convenient. The whole thing is played seriously (as far as I could tell – maybe I was meant to laugh – I didn’t). Maybe I just don’t get Woody Allen movies.
I like the idea of movies meaning so much more than just moving pictures used to while away the hours, to me they are pure escapism and I love to immerse myself in the stories. I really think with a good film we can change our brains for a few hours at least and lose our worries. Some films have affected me for days afterwards (not just failure to sleep after a horror film either). I love that, unless the film is French and sad, then I hate that…
I would have loved to love this movie (and you baby) but it just didn’t work for me. Maybe if the characters had been a little less abrasive but then that’s the calling card of Woody Allen movies really. A new motto for Woody Allen movies – “Abrasive characters R us”… probably not a good selling point.
I wonder how people really spoke back in the depression era. The movies always depict the American twang the same. Know what I mean doll? Was it always high pitched and annoying (especially the women -eep!)? Was that considered cute or something? I wonder how Australians talked during the depression era – “Crikey, that’s a whopper of a croc mate!”. No, sorry, that’s 90s Crocodile Hunter Australian.
Anyway, The Purple Rose of Cairo was not my cup of tea or cuppa joe or whatever they drank in depression era New York. Not my cup of warmed water from a jar then.