This is strictly second-hand but I heard something today that upset my apple cart. It comes from the periphery of the Woody Allen camp. The talk (and please understand this is just “talk” as in “not necessarily bankable”) is that Woody, who will be 82 in December, has muttered something along the lines of “the movie I make in 2019 might be my last.” He’s currently casting his 2018 film, which he’ll shoot either later this year or early next year, and then see to the promotion and publicity, and then he’ll make his 2019 film. And once that’s done it may be “adios muchachos.” Because, I’ve been told, Woody suspects he may not have any juice left after the ’19 flick, that he’ll be “done.”
Wells response: Here are my definitions of Allen being “done.” One, he’s just dropped dead on Fifth Avenue while directing his latest film. Two, he’s been found been slumped over in bed, his yellow writing pad at his side. Or three, he’s become one of those guys with saliva dribbling out of his mouth who might wander into a cafeteria with a shopping bag, screaming about socialism.
Even if Allen recently did mutter something about hanging it up, a new good idea could change everything in an instant…right? What would Woody do with himself if he stopped writing and directing? True, he’ll turn 84 in ’19, which would mean that over half of his life will have gone by. By the Clint Eastwood standard (i.e., 87 and is still cranking ’em out), Woody is far from done.
