Why are people mad at Woody?
a SUIT column by Chris Jungle

In the last few years, I've grown an affection for Woody Allen flicks. It first began when I was hanging out at someone's place, they had HBO, and Husbands and Wives was on. It was somewhere in the middle, but I kept thinking "Man, this is pretty funny." I went on to check out the movie in its entirety later, and it lived up to quick glance assumptions. I went on to see other Woody movies like Bullets Over Broadway and Crimes and Misdemeanors. I occasionally go back to his old stuff too, but I think I like the crotchety, old sicko more than a smarmy, cocky, young man. Since that's the case, his new movie Deconstructing Harry left me walking away with a big grin.

I've read a few columns in the last two weeks (I apologize) about how sick and perverted Woody Allen has become. And as all columnists do, they go on to say how Woody Allen is a microcosm of the sickness that exists in the macrocosm of the United States. They downgrade his sick old man tendencies calling for a better tomorrow (not the movie A Better Tomorrow, but a better tomorrow nonetheless). Well, worry no longer, Woody. I got your back.

First, I'm willing to concede that Woody Allen is a sick little monkey. Any guy who cheats on his wife with her adopted Asian daughter has some self-control problems. Of course, after watching What's Up Tiger Lilly?, I can't say it came as too much of a surprise.

Every third movie or so, Woody throws down his life on paper and eventually up on screen, and that's what a writer has to do. If they don't use the stuff that happened to them, they're nothing but repressed, and there's nobody worse to hang out with than repressed writers. Take my word for it. Instead of bottling up his sickness, Woody lets it out for the world to see. Yes, he still loves hookers and blow jobs. Yes, he pictures most women naked when he talks to them. Yes, he's a bitter, loveless poop whose priorities are out of whack with the rest of society, but he's honest about it.

And that's what we really want out of the warped minds of the world: honesty. We want to be able to go up to our strange characters in real life, ask "What did you do that for," and have them tell you straight out why. He has a classic case of running away from reality. It's funner for him to exist in the worlds and characters he creates rather than in reality where there are school crossing guards, stray dogs, and court ordered subpoenas. I can't say I blame him.

There are too many people acting pious when behind the scenes they are fornicating twice as much as full time fornicators. I'm tired of the White House staff getting into sexual trouble and acting like there aren't any cameras in their faces. I'm sick of athletes beating their wives and saying they just want to play ball. I don't want kids blaming drugs, the devil, or USA Up All Night for their foolish acts. Everyone's blaming something else for the stupid things they do. I want some responsibility out of all these people. Woody's taking responsibility for his actions.

You don't hear Woody saying Ingmar Bergman made him do it. He's not blaming the porn industry for his lifestyle. He made his own choices. He admits he's still a child and acts like one. Most important, he's bold enough to say he's not going to change. So there you have it, Woody Allen is not a role model for your kids, but he still writes some amazing conversations, scribbles down some of the best lines, and makes people consider ideas that they never would have otherwise.

Let's get off Woody's back. He's not the microcosm explanation for the strangeness in the macrocosm. He may be the shriveled up pea in the pod, but he's still edible. Heck, we should reward him by going to see his admissions and rambles on screen. I doubt I'll ever meet the man, and I don't think many other people are going become his acquaintance. In case you're one of the few who get to pull him aside at some party, be forewarned that he may tell you exactly what you don't want to hear, and even more importantly, he means every damn word of it.

Chris Jungle is attempting to become a writer/director/actor so he can make out with young beautiful actresses when he's in his sixties.

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