Woody Allen takes a stab at parody, and though the final product bears his unmistakable stamp it still kinda works. His victims are primarily Russian novelists (especially Tolstoy and Dostoevsky), though the same brush manages to tar Sergei Eisenstein and Ingmar Bergman as well. As is usual with parodies, it helps to be at least a little familiar with the originals. But fans of Allen’s usual shtick will probably love the nebbish protagonist regardless of the other comedic elements in the movie. Personally, I generally like grim Russian literature more than I like Woody Allen, but I have to concede that he’s done a good job with this one. Mildly amusing
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