Not much of a narrative arc; flimsy plot; some overwrought acting; a clutch of good gags. This is Woody Allen veering toward his self-indulgent mode. Falls somewhere between the comedy of 'Play it Again, Sam' and the introspection of 'Husbands and Wives'. More of a lesson in movie-making than an entertainment.
After Hannah and Her Sisters Mia Farrow commented: 'He (Woody Allen) had taken the ordinary stuff of our lives and lifted it into art. We were honoured and outraged'. Deconstructing Harry examines the use of the personal in the life of the writer, both in terms of its impact on friends and family, and on the writer himself.
It is very similar to Stardust Memories in that Woody (as Harry Block) makes a journey to receive an award, and the events of his life are illustrated by excerpts from his fiction, though this time he is a novelist rather than a film director. As with the earlier film, Woody flits from the fiction of the film to the fiction of the character with great skill and imagination.
The film was welcomed by critics as a return to form, which I can't endorse as he made many other fine releases around this time.
Deconstructing Harry is a dense, complicated journey through the moral dereliction and personal inadequacy of a character unable to see beyond his own superficial desires and whose philosophy is designed to excuse this failure. If this is intended to be a personal disclosure from the writer-director then it's a pretty desolate, wretched confession and not always easy to watch. Block says of himself: 'I'm a guy who can't function well in life but can in art'. There are some great comic ideas, there's a lot of energy in the film and some fine writing, but my most prominent reaction is to feel a little repulsed.