Manhattan Murder Mystery
First screened in November 1999 / Most recently screened and reviewed in September 2025
Director: Woody Allen. Cast: Diane Keaton, Woody Allen, Jerry Adler, Lynn Cohen, Alan Alda, Anjelica Huston, William Addy, Ron Rifkin, Joy Behar, Melanie Norris, Marge Redmond, Zach Braff, Aida Turturro, John Costelloe, Frank Pellegrino, Wendell Pierce. Screenplay: Woody Allen and Marshall Brickman. In Brief:
Patently more on-the-fly than was Allen's norm at the time. Light, easy sit that feels long and underdone.
VOR:②
Not hard to guess why Allen privileged comfort over creatiivty at this exact moment. Also not surprising why it has fans. But risky? Original? Nope.
Coverage at the time touted Manhattan Murder Mystery as Allen's return, often framed as "overdue," to straightforwardly silly comedy. An equal preoccupation of that press was the reassurance that MMM's set was happy and relaxed, thanks in large part to prior and trusted collaborators in all the key on- and off-screen roles. That widely publicized vibe, convenient even if true (which is easy to believe) was of course incongruous to Allen's acidic life circumstances at that moment.
Sadly, all that relaxation and ride-or-die encircling was also incongruous to making a good movie. Manhattan Murder Mystery, produced at such a low ebb of inspiration that Allen never altered the placeholder title on the first script, has a nifty idea at its center about wealthy New Yorkers, but also many species of urban apartment-dweller, getting way too invested in snoopiness and speculation about their neighbors' lives, while paradoxically trying to shield their own lives from examination or even a longer than necessary drop-in for coffee. There are also some effective surprises in the plot (the best one involves a passing bus) and an exceptionally well-styled Anjelica Huston looking ready and eager to contribute more to the fracas as an arrogant and worldwise novelist.
Unfortunately, very little comes together in this script, which Allen works hard to present as a light-on-its-feet noodle rather than a barely-ready diffusion of chaotic ideas. There are two principal tracks: a tonally addled, decidedly amateur investigation into foul play, and a marital mini-crisis between two middle-aged people who suddenly have other options. Only occasionally do these hook together in satisfying ways. More often, one feels like an unwieldy distraction from the other, especially the rote "romantic rivals" material. Despite the pronounced about-face from the much more acrid Husbands and Wives the previous year, Manhattan Murder Mystery doubles down on Allen's newfound infatuation with a constantly moving camera, with less thematic warrant here. Pacing is a problem throughout, and I'm not sure how much longtime editor Susan Morse could have done about it, since Allen and Keaton tilt so often into borderline improv and protracted, Allenish dithering that works against the establishing or the advancement of a surprisingly ornate plot. It's telling that we need the Huston character, with her preternatural (but also dubious?) command of narrative to explain, twice, in illustrated flashback/conjecture, what's been going on the whole time in the central narrative spine, even though this notably padded movie has had nothing but time to clarify it. Once unfurled, the titular mystery enfolds more characters than you'd think, none too plausibly, and creating the impression that we might have spent at least another scene or two with a few of these folks while excising some fringe characters that Manhattan Murder Mystery simply doesn't need, especially since they don't even function as red-herring suspects.
Allen, whose reported list of his own favorites in his filmography barely intersects with mine, apparently names this one high on his personal scorecard. As might I if I had a jolly, luxe, seems-like-old-times slumber party with my ride-or-dies amid a toxic gyre very much of my own making. I'm not surprised that merry distraction mattered more to him at that moment than surpassing craft, but Manhattan Murder Mystery doesn't remind me as much of the 70s/80s "Funny Woody" period it was taken and possibly intended to revisit. On second pass, it's hard for me to receive it as anything but a harbinger of the plumly cast half-asseries that would become his all-but-permanent stock in trade less than a decade later. At least this one's got giggles and welcome faces in parts tailor made (or remade) for them. For many viewers and critics, that was just what the doctor ordered. For others of us, though retrospection probably exacerbates this feeling, there's an iffy smell in the air, and the sound of a balloon at the whispery start of an irreversible deflation. Grade:C
