Review of The Curse of the Jade Scorpion (2001) by V9Y J — 18 Aug 2010

The Curse of the Jade Scorpion is another one of those Woody Allen outings that could've been a little too light on its feet. Judging by its rate of critical and commercial success, I believe that others must've thought that it in fact was. However, I think that it turned out to be quite memorable and elatedly fun and suspenseful because of the very intelligently written, beautifully acted and incredibly riveting relationship between Woody Allen's insurance investigator and Helen Hunt's quality control woman. The two characters appear very clearly to hate each other, her being a highly self-confident insurance company headbreaker whose feelings are always kept in her breast pocket and him being a short little twerp who flaunts his successful investigations into false insurance claims. He's a womanizer who can't stand her success and she's bigger, badder and smarter and knows he can't. The dynamics that ensue in their relationship throughout the picture are great fun. Allen doesn't play the same warily unconfident, neurotic Jewish stereotype, yet he plays his character's reaches for toughness and cockiness for very subtle, self-deprecating laughs.

Allen has always known how to create a very snug and enjoyable but very realistic atmosphere. This film is set in the urban 1940s avenue of The Maltese Falcon, The Big Sleep, and Double Indemnity, of course taking place in New York, and giving calmly vivid life to every office, mansion, and apartment. The wallpaper is something one just knows is nonexistent nowadays. The dishes, furnishings, and nightstands are beautiful relics of coziness. The same goes for the clothing, just the plain suits that the men wear and the acute depiction of the time when women were just beginning to wear pants. Dan Aykroyd's pipe-smoking and even his classical up-scale manor of speaking are reminiscent of every boss behind the desk in every old movie. The chummy nature of Allen and his friend at the office is loyal and affectionate in a way men simply are not in this time. Restaurants are full of smoke and volunteers-from-the-audience nightclub magic acts by men who dressed like Arabs or gypsies. It's a lovely work of production design.

Allen is not and never will wind down. His direction is still subtle but acute, his writing is still brilliant, complete with its refusal to take the customary way out. Here, he does a neat little magic trick of his own. The sharp, collar-flipping noir dialogue is gracefully infused with his trademark cynical and comically paranoid dialogue which still bears remarkable one-liners like when someone tells him that there's a word for people who think everyone is conspiring against them, and he replies, "Yeah, perceptive.".