Oh, darlings, just when you thought Hollywood’s drama quota for 2025 was filled, Woody Allen proves that controversy, like a perfectly tailored Valentino gown, never goes out of style.
The 89-year-old director — whose career has more plot twists than a telenovela marathon — recently made waves by beaming into Moscow International Film Week’s “Legends of World Cinema” program. Picture it: Allen, comfortably ensconced in what one assumes was his Manhattan apartment, chatting away with Russian filmmaker Fyodor Bondarchuk, whose allegiance to Putin is about as subtle as a Kardashian wedding.
The virtual appearance sparked more drama than a Real Housewives reunion. Ukraine’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs didn’t mince words (and honestly, why should they?) in delivering a scorching critique that labeled Allen’s participation “a disgrace” and “an insult” to Ukrainian artists. The statement packed enough heat to melt the ice sculptures at a Beverly Hills gala.
Allen — who’s spent more time dodging controversy than starlets dodge carbs — attempted to navigate this particular PR minefield with his trademark mix of intellectual gymnastics and artistic justification. “Vladimir Putin is totally in the wrong,” he declared, before serving up the kind of “but actually” that makes publicists reach for their anxiety medication. His stance on maintaining artistic dialogue? Darling, it’s giving very much “I’m not here to make friends” energy.
Between praising Russian cinema (with a particularly pointed nod to “War and Peace” — subtle as a sequined jumpsuit at a funeral) and reminiscing about his comfort in Moscow, Allen demonstrated the kind of tone-deafness that would make a freshman PR intern cringe. Though perhaps we shouldn’t be surprised — this is, after all, the same director whose recent European pivot has been more dramatic than a costume change at the Met Gala.
Speaking of pivots, Allen’s latest works — “Rifkin’s Festival” and “Coup de Chance” — have found their funding in European coffers, after Hollywood decided to ghost him faster than a bad Tinder date. His first French-language film suggests that, like many before him, he’s discovered that when America closes a door, Europe opens a window — and occasionally throws in a film budget for good measure.
The Moscow International Film Week, meanwhile, is serving freshman festival realness with timing that feels about as appropriate as wearing white to someone else’s wedding. Their embrace of Allen — controversy and all — reads like a deliberately provocative choice, the film festival equivalent of that friend who always needs to make everything about them.
Will this latest chapter affect Allen’s standing in the international film community? Honey, if history’s taught us anything, it’s that some directors, like cockroaches and certain reality TV stars, possess an almost supernatural ability to survive. Between Manhattan and Moscow, there’s always someone willing to fund another meditation on neurotic intellectuals finding love in picturesque locations.
And so the show goes on, darlings. In an industry where today’s scandal is tomorrow’s Netflix documentary, Allen’s Moscow moment will likely join the ever-growing list of “did that really happen?” moments in the grand circus of entertainment. At least it’s giving us something to dish about over our oat milk lattes.
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