TMS Muse of the Week: Diane Keaton

(United Artists)

Of all the movies I’ve watched in my life so far, none has had a bigger impact on me than Woody Allen’s Annie Hall (1977). I first saw the famous romantic comedy I believe a month before I turned 15 in 2004. It was felt like a revelation. Only a year ago I wrote an essay during my high school orientation about how Adam Shankman’s A Walk to Remember (2002) was my favorite movie. I still have a lot of nostalgic fondness for the teen melodrama, but to go from a modest hit to an all-time classic was a huge boost in my standards as a teenager. Growing up prone to random panic attacks and never being comfortable in my own skin, it was a breakthrough to discover two people—Woody Allen and Diane Keaton—even more neurotic and anxious than I was could be still considered cool by film fans.

Diane in particular was an instant idol to me. From her casual, yet stylish fashion sense with her slacks, blouses and ties; to growing up an Orange County girl just like myself [but forty years earlier]. I quickly discovered she was not only the star of the greatest romcom of all time, but also the female lead and love interest to Al Pacino in Francis Ford Coppola’s iconic crime pictures, The Godfather (1972) and The Godfather Part II (1974). She could be funny in comedies with Woody like Annie Hall, Sleeper (1973) and Love and Death (1975); but also hold her own in dramas such as the Godfather films, Richard Brooks’ Looking for Mr. Goodbar (1977) and Woody’s Interiors (1978). She even has musical theatre experience as a cast member of the original 1968 Broadway production of Galt MacDermot & James Rado’s ‘Hair’ and sang three songs on the Annie Hall soundtrack. I was impressed since, as she got older, Diane became one of those actresses—like say, Goldie Hawn or Carrie Fisher—who is always accused of playing herself. It’s true she eventually did get typecast as the kooky divorcee or single mom or aunt or older sister; as seen in Hugh Wilson’s The First Wives Club (1996), Jerry Zaks’ Marvin’s Room (1996), Garry Marshall’s The Other Sister (1999), Peter Chelsom’s Town & Country (2001), Nancy Meyers’ Something’s Gotta Give (2003), and Diane’s own directed Hanging Up (2000). While this may seem like her just phoning it in for easy work, there actually is a reason for this.

(Paramount Pictures)

After Diane’s romantic and professional relationship with Woody ended in 1979, and during her second break-up from former co-star and past on-again/off-again boyfriend Al Pacino; the actress made an attempt to focus primarily on dramas. This began with Warren Beatty, another important collaborator and significant other in Diane’s life and career. Warren’s Reds (1981) was a big hit with critics and the awards circuit, with him winning Best Director at the Oscars and Diane getting her second Best Actress nomination four years after winning in the category for Annie Hall. After Reds, Diane starred in serious dramas like Alan Parker’s Shoot the Moon (1982), George Roy Hill’s The Little Drummer Girl (1984) and Gillian Armstrong’s Mrs. Soffel (1984)—all of which flopped at the box-office. Disappointed, Diane bounced back by reuniting with Woody in Radio Days (1987) and Manhattan Murder Mystery (1993); and becoming Nancy Meyers’ alter-ego in her hit dramedies Something’s Gotta Give, Baby Boom (1987) and Father of the Bride (1991). [The former two directed by Nancy’s ex-husband and then screenwriting partner Charles Shyer.] Accepting audiences preferred her in light material, Diane also began directing documentaries, music videos and TV programs.

I think it’s easy to tease Diane for sometimes parodying her own persona, but really, she accomplished a lot. On top of an Academy Award, setting the standard for the female protagonists of the modern romcom, raising two children and spending five decades working in film & television; Diane, along with peers like Carol Kane and Teri Garr, subconsciously helped many young women in the late 1970s feel comfortable with their own neurosis and anxieties. Diane’s quirks and eccentricities make her as attractive as her good looks do. Woody appeared to agree when he gave her the chance to naturally shine in the semi-autobiographical Annie Hall. Reading Diane’s 2011 memoir Then Again, I don’t think she’s fully conscious [or maybe not completely comfortable] with how much of a big influence she made both fashion and film history. She tiptoes around putting full attention on herself and uses her own book to celebrate her mother’s life as well as her own. I’ve lost a lot of respect for Woody as a person over the years, and Diane’s even disappointed me occasionally. But I hope she’s aware how long she’s been inspiring younger women.