In
Cassandra's Dream, director
Woody Allen -- who lost his way in recent years with duds like
Scoop and
Melinda and Melinda -- makes a successful return to subjects that have repeatedly fascinated him: crime and punishment. He headed in that direction with
Match Point, which itself was a retread of
Crimes and Misdemeanors (arguably one of Allen's masterpieces). But while
Match Point strained to be sophisticated and analytical,
Cassandra's Dream is a lean, mean, taut machine. It's as if Allen has finally found his groove again.
Which isn't to say that the movie doesn't have flaws. For starters, characters often explain rather than banter. (Where, oh where, has Allen's complete ease with dialogue gone?) They're also drawn so much to type that it's comic -- in the beginning, Angela is such a man eater that she might as well have been feasting on human flesh. But there's no doubt that Allen teases out wonderfully layered performances from his actors, specifically Farrell (painfully tragic) and Wilkinson (icy and manipulative). And the movie doesn't suffer from dull spots -- suspenseful moments are played for maximum tension, while uncomfortable ones enhance the drama.