In the chronicles of meta-cinema, little can compare to basing your entire movie on the works of another filmmaker, and then casting said filmmaker in said movie. John Turturro's Fading Gigolo stars Woody Allen as Woody Allen, essentially, while John Turturro plays the role Woody Allen would have liked for himself. And let's not even get into the misogyny. Actually, no, let's. It's easy to write this off as wish-fulfillment, and no doubt it is, but there's an unmistakeable carelessness to Turturro's depiction of women. His avenging angel, of sorts, is Vanessa Paradis as a widowed rabbi's wife. Her sweet presence, and the retro delicacy with which Turturro approaches her scenes, tempers the film's more caustic undertones. If it weren't for the crass conclusion he finds to her storyline, it'd have enough old-school warmth and whimsy to elevate Fading Gigolo beyond its otherwise trivial reach. Not that I resent films like this - simple, unpretentious, casual comedies with no aspirations to greatness and a dedication toward their idiosyncratic sense of humour. And, with Mr. Allen on board, John Turturro's (semi-)own sense of humour has all the authenticity it needs to work and all the validity it needs to stick. Turturro is particularly benevolent (when he's not portraying himself as a sex god for the ages) in affording Allen his archetypal role, replete with his trademark wit. His aping of his iconic costar's sexual politics, however, is less than benevolent to his audience. Sharon Stone, bestowed just one scene worthy of her dramatic gifts, is lumbered with a part she ought to have sniffed out was a parody of her most famous ones, and the less said about Sofia Vergara's lamentable role the better. It's something Turturro's laidback humour can't quite overcome, and, honestly, thankfully so. Fading Gigolo wears its sexism on its sleeve. All the better for us to identify it!
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