Wonder Wheel

Having visited Tennessee Williams territory in Blue Jasmine now Woody Allen takes on Eugene O’Neill, with a harsh vision of self-destructive characters doomed by fate and their own tragic flaw. Both tragedies show Allen at the peak of his craft, restoring his title of America’s most significant film director.

The titular Wonder Wheel is the gigantic, dramatically lit Ferris wheel that we don’t see until the end. The characters are rather emblematized by the earthbound merry go round, as they live locked in their sordid painful lives, unable to see any larger hopes. Humpty fixes and runs the merry go round, a losing proposition like his parenthood, marriage, current affair and battle with alcoholism. His name stamps him as the fallen, even beyond the wagon.

This Coney Island is a shrinking, garish fantasy that distracts its denizens from their tragic destiny. Ginny’s arsonist son has no specific explanation but seems a tragic version of little Alvy Singer, living under the Coney Island roller coaster and worrying about the end of the universe, over his bowl of quivering tomato soup. Without the knowledge and philosophy the kid is merely destructive. He’s the innocent as nihilist.

Allen pitches this drama as a piece of theatre rather than as life or naturalistic cinema. The garish brightness of the Coney Island exteriors, the painstakingly recreated atmosphere of the signs and period songs, the turgid shadows and gloom of the interiors, and the eruptive emotions especially of Ginny and Humpty all evoke the artifice and heightening of theatre. 

Jim Belushi plays the bathetic Humpty as an even coarser Stanley Kowalski. Ginny retreats to Blanche when, broken, her hopes dashed, she retreats to the fantasy of her old white gown. Both characters live theatrically, Humpty in the force of his rage and Ginny in pretending she is only playing the role of a waitress, not really being one. The real her is something else, a wispy memory of an alternative life she might have lived. Like Blanche, she bears the guilt of having driven a devoted lover to suicide.

In a brilliant piece of meta theatrical casting, the two mafiosi on Carolina’s trail are prominent survivors of Tony Soprano’s crew, Steve Schirripa and Tony Sorico, very much in character.

Hence the main character, Mickey, is an aspiring playwright who speaks to us in confidential asides. He is also a lifeguard, whose elevated perspective gives him an advantage over the merry go round lot but falls short of the Wonder Wheel’s sweeping perspective. 

Mickey may know his O’Neill but he doesn’t know life or how to navigate it responsibly. He leaves Ginny with unrealistic hopes he might save her, then delays his intended dismissal of her. Immediately upon resolving to keep her instead of young Carolina, he asks the latter out for her fatal pizza date. When he informs Carolina of his affair with her stepmother, his assumption of purity and honesty pales beside its unintended cruelty and her doom. His sending her off to walk home alone is as responsible for her demise as Ginny’s decision not to warn her.

Humpty, Carolina and Ginny suffer the consequences of their earlier decisions. Mickey has the book larnin’ but lacks the grit of their experience. The two women win him by their hard won experience and pain, but his writerly detachment leaves him hollow. 

This film is so rich and challenging that it’s silly to hang Allen’s old scandal on it, basing that narrow reading on the line “The heart has its own hieroglyph”—loosely, Allen’s early defence of his initially problematic relationship with his current wife. This modern exercise.of the classical tragic vision is a deliberate attempt to confront man’s largest predicament, far beyond our mundane news scandals. Early Allen would have been eviscerating Trump in a gleeful high dudgeon. Here Allen follows the great tragic writers into a far more sweeping examination of how we humanly fail in our lives.