"You have a nice personality and you know sweaters."

If I were to draw up a list of some of my favorite Woody Allen films, the ones that would take the cake would be Purple Rose of Cairo, Hannah and Her Sisters, Manhattan, Sleeper and Annie Hall. I had forgotten all about the often overlooked 1990 gem Alice.

After re-watching this film, I'd go out on a limb and say that it's quickly climbed into my top three Allen films. What captures me most about this story, is the painfully funny way he chooses to create his latest Mia Farrow heroine. Farrow's character, Alice, is almost a walking parody of every modern day housewife who finds herself in a state of confusion over the course of her life. Only on drugs!

Alice Tate finds that after sixteen years of marriage to her husband Doug, (played by the fantastic William Hurt) she is oddly drawn to a stranger at her children's school. She questions her marriage, her life and the unmovable position that she's settled into. The love she feels for her husband has turned into what I so often dread about most of Allen's films after a time. It's a love that has turned into a monotonous, tired, lackluster affection that has sullied the protagonists' place in their world. While I don't often enjoy the message that Woody Allen pretends to tell differently in every film, I will say that things were quite different in Alice.

Alice seeks the medical attention of a highly recommended doctor in China Town. After a brief hypnosis, he suggests that it is not her back pain that is the problem, but in her mind. He gives her the first of what would be many exotic herbs with little explanation of its effect. Alice quickly discovers that these remedies allow her to step outside of herself in physical and metaphorical ways. What follows is a fun jog through several hilarious episodes that Alice finds herself involved in. Her life begins to change, not so much in a 'You will be visited by three ghosts' way, (unless you count the ghost of Alec Baldwin who decides to fly her around a moonlit Manhattan). 

You can often tell a well-crafted Woody Allen movie apart by the way he chooses to end the story. So often, I'm left wishing it didn't have the trademark stamp at the end credits -- that familiar feeling that you've been cheated into being spoon fed his sad take on relationships. (Yes, I am an enormous Woody Allen fan, but I can still be jilted!) Alice is the exception. The credits roll and you feel like you've invested your time wisely in this story. You're left happy for the characters and pleased that you still have your sense of humor intact. 

For an uplifting take on life, I'd revisit Alice anytime.