People can be easily categorized into two groups: the ones that love Woody Allen's movies and the ones that hate them.

Me mate Or always claims there's that third group, "the others". But there is no third group this time, trust me.

That magnificent dichotomy itself is not what troubles me though. What troubles me is that way too many otherwise reasonable and respectable folk seem to fall in the group that hates his movies, which is, of course, the wrong group.

That I simply do not understand.

Woody Allen's flicks are amazing because they are just so bloody real and truthful. When I watch one of his "family" scenes (the ones depicting a typically disfunctional jewish family, usually all talking at once) I feel like this movie is simply about *my* life. And when I sit to dinner with my parents (bless them), it's almost like we're shooting his next movie.

Mother: "You look thin."

Me: "Mom, I'm exactly the same."

Mother: "I know when you loose weight, how much did you lose?"

Me: "I didn't lose anything, I gained two kilos."

Mother: "You were probably weighing with your clothes on. Why are you not eating anything?"

Me: "I just ate, I'm not hungry."

Father: "He doesn't eat? Why doesn't he eat? Give him something to eat."

It's scary.

The only other artist I can think of now that made me feel such a strong sence of "truthness" is Ernest Hemingway. The problem is, everyone who's taste I respect,  loves Hemingway. There is no controversy here.

So what the hell is wrong with you people on Woody Allen??

"Do not worry. You have always written before and you will write now. All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence you know." - Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast.

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