Directed by: Woody Allen. I always say: you can’t go wrong with Woody Allen. Every time I knock another one of his extensive filmography off the list, I open myself up for a huge disappointment. What if this one’s not as enjoyable as the other ones? What if my grand theory about Woody Allen as the last of the old-time filmmakers—a storyteller in the most universal sense—is spoiled completely by one mediocre film? Well, dear reader, I report happily that my theory remains intact (even keeping in mind what I said in my last post about Interiors). With this one, Woody shows that he’s more than happy to give us simply a nice night out (or in) at the movies. A tight little cast, a classic, simple little mystery plot alongside a standard Woody Allen subplot about a married couple hashing out the challenges of married life. This offers a glimpse into the director’s later interest in straightforward murder stories without any comedic relief. With this one, though, we’re still in the realm of light, fluffy, good-time movies. New York, Diane Keaton, Woody Allen one-liners, and a movie theater. What more do you want?