A sub-Woody Allen picture/homage starring the man himself is more enjoyable than the daft plot would suggest but only fully comes alive in fits and starts.
And the best scenes don’t even involve Allen. A charming side story has John Turturro’s gentle florist cum ‘fading gigolo’ of the film’s title rediscovering himself when he encounters a lonely Hassidic widow, Avigal, but the plot’s wider contrivance prevents the friendship developing naturally.
The rest of it follows Allen’s retired rare book dealer, Murray, pimping for the reluctant gigolo, who proves such an enigma that super sexy rich New York women – Sharon Stone, Sofia Vergara – not only find him irresistible – really – but are prepared to hand-over $1,000 bucks and twice that when it’s a ménage à trois, of course, for an hour session with the otherwise everyman.
The weakest moments come near the end with some mock Zionist introspection Woody style – pastiche rather than (self) parody – when Brooklyn’s own Hassidic police/ Keystone Kops arrest Murray for introducing Avigal to possible fornication and an impromptu court of elders hint at barbaric ancient punishments.
Along the way, there is a genuine and engaging chemistry between Allen and Turturro, and the mise-en-scene – aided by Marco Pontecorvo’s lighting – gives it a nice retro feel but not enough to create the kind of self-contained alternative universe that the American indie sector often does so well – John Sayles, The Coens – and the material requires.
With Turturro also directing and writing, it’s a sitting duck for every conceivable male fantasy/mid-life crisis joke going but, in truth, the film doesn’t come across that way. It’s simply neither one thing or another.cialis generic whencialis online with paypalcialis online free sample cheap cialis tadalafil
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