For years I have avoided his films, not out of any moral sensibility but as an aesthetic response to his increasing reliance on flat-footed, gratuitous deus ex machina plot devices (as in Blue Jasmin, and, earlier, in Match Point). Those devices speak to a serious diminution (if not a lazy surrender) of talent. The director's at-best questionable personal relationships trouble, but in a strange way, not as poignantly as I was repelled by the giving-up. The question, What Do We Do with the Art of Monstrous Men, I shared in late 2017 in a terrific piece, which I share, again, below.
I take note here of a New York Times piece, published today, which appears to underscore how Allen's art is paying for his behavior. His four most recent films cost, together, well over $85M to make and cleared under $27M in North America.
#MeToo appears to be having its way with Mr. Allen's success (as is his later films' reliance on heavy-handed plot coincidences).
I cannot say I'm surprised or chagrined.
from Paris Review: What Do We Do with the Art of Monstrous Men?