I realize I'm taking on an icon here, but honestly, this is the most disgustingly boring and over-rated film to come out of the 1970's. It is unfortunate that the rather pathetic Woody Allen, an admittedly intelligent man who alas squanders his considerable talents, firmly believes that the cosmos revolves around his legendary neuroses. Even more unfortunate, is the fact that he has succeeded in persuading a large percentage of the Western world to agree with him. Frankly, it does not speak well of our culture.<br /><br />This (yawn) movie revolves around a pair of self absorbed lovers...a neurotic New York comedian, Alvy Singer (played by Woody) and a would-be singer, Annie Hall. The two, both in analysis, move in together so they can exchange tales of their professional, paid for navel gazing. I certainly wouldn't want to imply that it might be simply for the convenient sex. The rest of this so called neurotic romance is far too inconsequential to bother detailing here.<br /><br />Annie Hall is played by Diane Keaton, an actress who is actually very competent. Her movies are frequently not my favorite, though I did enjoy the cute Baby Boom. Her only memorable aspect in this film is her Ralph Lauren clothes, now of course quite dated, which supposedly caused a fashion revolution at the time. <br /><br />That classic comment of Woody's regarding sex, "This is the most fun I've had without laughing" doesn't particularly impress me with its brilliance. Fear not, Shakespeare, Woody serves as no threat to you as master of the English language. It is indeed sad that so many people seem to praise this mindless, uninspiring, unoriginal, and not even particularly amusing pearl of wisdom as though it had virtually descended from the gods on Mount Olympus.<br /><br />Annie Hall isn't the absolute worst movie I've ever seen, but it really doesn't have much to recommend it. I normally adore romances, but neither one of these two selfish neurotics captured my sympathy or even remote interest. Furthermore, the supposed witty banter between the pair failed woefully to either entertain or amuse me. Back in 1977 when I saw this movie at the theatre with my husband (then boyfriend), we both sincerely wished we'd found some paint and watched it dry instead. I guess this intellectual comedy was just far too complicated for little old us to appreciate.