Well I'm blowed, a Woody Allen film that I walked out of after half an hour (I'm aware of the moral fragility of commenting on a film of which I've seen less than half, but I hope you'll understand why). Basically, it became apparent very early on that we were going to be patronised from the screen with: a script that set out its conceit as if with bullet points; a cast that were all trying to be characters from Hannah and Her Sisters (with the exception of Chloe Sevigny), and were badly directed into doing so; and a camera that sat around portentously, only for there to be nothing to film but chat and the actor delivering it. Drama? None; it's partially pre-narrated, but the action does nothing to develop a dramatic situation.<br /><br />Maybe I did leave too early in this case, but by then I'd decided against another hour and a half of one-liner-Allen clones. The script has its funny moments – I went almost entirely on the back of Will Ferrell's excerpts in the trailer (trailer-hooked again, doh!) – but there's little pace to let them fly off nonchalantly, as is best. Worse than this there's no fluidity. Saying this film's wooden makes a forest look like a jelly: the opening café-bound discussion being the most abject case-in-point. The only thing that should be done by numbers is potted reviewing – 2/10.