If there is a specific genre of storytelling that I simply despise, it's "overwhelmed and under-appreciated male artist comes to self-realization through his follies with women." It's why I hate Woody Allen and why I hated this. All women are depicted as either temptresses, nags, or simple-minded comic relief; they are invariably incapable of comprehending the great work he is supposedly creating; and in the end, they all become stepping stones on his path to realization.

From a technical perspective,…

There's a really tight film in here with a runtime of about 1h 40m. Some of the best performances of the year and some of the best dark comedy writing since IN BRUGES, but ultimately the bloat kills this. Several eye-rolling scenes take a lot of the impact out of this film - especially the epilogue. Goes too far in some ways, not far enough in others, and just had me thinking about this Onion article for the last 1.5…