Growing up male, Jewish, and a New Yorker in the 1970's necessitated an affinity with, if not idolatry of "Annie Hall." To my pubescent mind, the film seemed to present a workable blueprint for living: cynicism, prurience, artistic integrity; it was all there for me to emulate and refine, to assimilate into my own personal style and sense of who I was in the world. Sad to say, some 20-odd years later, Woody Allen, the man and the artist, has lost for me his luster. In fact, at this point, I'd sooner listen to what, say, Ronald Reagan has to offer up on life than Woody. Still -- Annie Hall -- the funniest movie I've ever seen.

Jon Brooks