“A relationship, I think, is like a shark. You know? It has to constantly move forward or it dies. And I think what we got on our hands is a dead shark.”

Annie Hall remains the quintessential Woody Allen film: It is full of comedic jokes, a running monologue that ponders life, a romance, intellectual pop culture references, and a deep provoking view of life as we know it, while never taking itself too seriously. It could be called Woody Allen-lite, but then again, when has Allen ever been dark? Made in 1977, Annie Hall launched Allen’s career with an Oscar win for Best Picture (debated by many for winning over Star Wars) and launched him to status as an American auteur. In fact, he is possibly the only director to truly be considered an auteur by simply relying on comedy. As the famous joke goes, “Death is easy, comedy is hard.”

What remains so familiar about Annie Hall is that it features that same “Woody Allen” character we are all used to. Alvy Singer is neurotic, Jewish, Brooklyn born, comedic, literary, inept, angst-ridden, and pessimistic. His films usually seem slightly autobiographical, and Annie Hall was the first to do this. His earlier films (Sleepers, Love and Death, Bananas) are all more episodic in nature and more of a parody of other films than true original works. Annie Hall broke that record, becoming a simple tale about Alvy Singer (played by Allen) and the love of his life, a girl named Annie Hall, played by the irresistible Diane Keaton.

The opening sequence sets up the entire film. Alvy addresses the camera, telling two slightly humorous jokes, which set up his philosophies on both life and women. These dumb jokes are a fascinating start, that reveals both the techniques and world of Annie Hall. It also reveals that this is not a chronological film, as Alvy reveals he just broke up with Annie. The film takes place over the last year, with a few flashbacks through Alvy’s childhood, with several vignettes about Alvy and Annie’s lives together.

There are too many classic sequences, but the best is the strangest. While Alvy and Annie stand in the line waiting for the French Resistance documentary The Sorry and the Pity (because the latest Bergman film had already began), a professor from Columbia University tires to impress his date by offering his views on Federico Fellini and Marshall McLuhan. Alvy, trying to ignore the man, can’t get over the fact of how wrong his views on the man are. Finally fed up, he argues at the man, which quickly receives the response that he has his the right to his own opinion. Alvy then moves out of line and pulls out the real McLuhan, who tells the professor that he know nothing of his work. Alvy can only say, “Boy, if life were only like this.”

Sequences like this show why Allen is such an amazing comedian. He rarely relies on slapstick for jokes. He uses intellectual references, like Fellini and McLuhan, instead of singers and actors. His dialogue slides off the tongues of his actors like real life responses. He uses interactions with his audience, contradicting subtitles, split screen action, and fantasy sequences. His jokes are funny to a different crowd than what most would expect today, and that’s why it works.

The romance between Alvy and Annie is one of those true pleasures of cinema. Their relationship just feels realistic, because both aren’t afraid to tell each other what they really think. Annie herself, is a delightful woman who could have the most beautiful personality than any other cinema lady. The conversations between Alvy and Annie move more quickly than in any other film. In one sequence, Annie complains about the size of her apartment and the bugs. Alvy replies, “Entomology is a rapidly growing field.” Annie shoots back that Alvy refuses to let her move in. If you didn’t catch how each of those sentences relates one another, then this film may move to speedy for you.

The performances of these two actors, Allen and Keaton, are perfect for each other. It should be noted that the two were in a relationship during the early 70s and that Keaton’s birth name was Diane Hall (and actually had a Granny Hall). The two actors seem to find a balance in each scene of exactly what the relationship means to them. Although it is not chronological, we can understand where Annie and Alvy are in their relationship at any moment due to their performance. These two relate perfectly, despite being opposites in almost every way.

The ideas of Allen in this film are provocative and curious. Though Allen seems to have a general contempt for a lot of the people in his life, Annie Hall is strangely optimistic. Despite his musings, he seems to love life in every way. At the end of the film, Alvy, broken up with Annie, seems to be in sorrow, but is reminded of all the good times and how great it was just knowing her. The final monologue is classic Allen: “I thought of that old joke, you know, the, this, this guy goes to a psychiatrist and says, 'Doc, uh, my brother's crazy, he thinks he's a chicken,' and uh, the doctor says, 'Well why don't you turn him in?' And the guy says, 'I would, but I need the eggs.' Well, I guess that's pretty much now how I feel about relationships. You know, they're totally irrational and crazy and absurd and - but uh, I guess we keep going through it...because...most of us need the eggs.” This summarizes Annie Hall beautifully, and in complete absurdity of what relationships truly mean and why we do them.

Annie Hall was a new step for romantic comedies. Alvy and Annie were never meant for each other, and from the beginning they don’t work toward each other but against. But its all in good charming fun. Full of philosophy, love, and a charming attitude, Annie Hall remains a classic because of these reasons. This is a film that I somehow fall in love with every time I see it and one of those perfect date moves that will forces you and your date to appreciate your relationship more. Allen would create many more great works, but Annie Hall remains his most beautiful and most poignant work.