Diane Keaton’s first feature film was 1970’s Love and Other Strangers. I haven’t seen it. I don’t know anything about it. But, I can guarantee she lights up the screen whenever she appears. Two years later, with just some stage work in between, she was starring in The Godfather as Michael Corleone’s decidedly non-Italian girlfriend and eventually wife, Kay.
She doesn’t have much to do in that first film, but as the outsider and audience surrogate, it is through her eyes that we watch Michael’s ultimate descent into evil. Let us not forget that the final shot of one of the most important American films ever made is of Keaton, skeptically observing a world she could never be a part of until she is shut out entirely. It doesn’t work without Keaton’s blend of weariness, longing, and naivete. Anyway, she gets her short-lived vengeance in Part II.
Keaton died yesterday at 79 years old. The world is a little dimmer without her in it. The movies are a little less delightful and magical. She exuded charm, both on screen and off. Her contemporaries like Jane Fonda and Faye Dunaway were all toughness, angles, and sharp edges. They seemed to be hiding something. With Keaton, everything was on the surface. She was honest, vulnerable, and soulful. Don’t get me wrong. She could play characters with sharpness and danger – she could do anything – but the essence of what made her such a one-of-a-kind performer was always right there under the surface.
It is hard enough in Hollywood to build one career. Over six decades in the industry, Keaton had many. Her final two films came out last year, and both exemplified the kind of female-driven ensemble dramedies she was drawn to once she had the luxury of being choosy. The recent Book Club films, Mad Money, and as far back as The First Wives Club typified this mode of Keaton. And, no matter if she was playing first, second, or third fiddle, she made beautiful music.
In 2003, she found late-career box office success with Nancy Meyers’ Something’s Gotta Give, the movie that taught young people that older people could be sexy – never mind that Keaton was just 56 when the movie was filmed and as beautiful as ever. This kicked off a cottage industry for about a decade worth of “late in life” romances in which she would team up with the greatest actors of her generation: Jack Nicholson, Kevin Kline, Morgan Freeman, Michael Douglas, etc.
Around this same time, she found herself taking on mentoring roles to young ingénues playing the kind of roles she would have in the ’70s. This would be the Morning Glory, Family Stone, Because I Said So era. If you’re around my age, some of these movies probably mean quite a good deal to you. These were a natural outcropping of her work in the hit Father of the Bride remake with Steve Martin (as well as its lesser sequel).
A relatively quiet ’80s still began and ended with a bang – 1981’s Reds with writer-director-star-romantic partner Warren Beatty and 1990’s The Godfather Part III, once again reuniting with Al Pacino, whom she called the love of her life in her memoirs. In between, she found time to plant the seeds that would become Something’s Gotta Give by doing Charles Shyer’s Baby Boom, written by Shyer and wife Meyers.
If those roughly 45 years of films had been all she ever gave us, it would count among the most successful careers for a woman in Hollywood history, particularly in the way she navigated the transition from an ingénue into a more mature performer. This remains a frustratingly difficult task for most women in the industry, but Keaton handled it with aplomb, though I’m sure there was great difficulty behind the scenes.
Anyway, if all we ever knew about Diane Keaton, née Diane Hall, were the films from 1981 to 2024, we still would be celebrating her. However, from 1972 to 1979, she cemented herself as one of the most important performers of her generation and crafted a legacy that shines brighter today than perhaps it did even then.
Yes, the two Godfather films are key and she is vital to them. Looking for Mr. Goodbar in 1977 was a fascinating exploration of Keaton’s depth and range as a performer. It remains underseen and underappreciated to this day. But, of course, the key to Keaton’s stardom, the rosetta stone to her screen persona lies in her six collaborations in the decade with former romantic partner and lifelong friend Woody Allen.
We can litigate Allen, the Man, some other time, if you like. I look forward to that discussion. It should be noted that Keaton never wavered in her public support of Allen, even presenting the Golden Globes’ Lifetime Achievement Award to him in 2014 and accepting it on his behalf when he predictably refused to appear. However, he did make an appearance in 2017 to present Keaton with the American Film Institute’s Life Achievement Award. You may feel any way you like about their friendship or about Keaton for supporting her friend. Today, I am solely interested in their artistic collaboration.
That collaboration began on screen in 1972 with the Herbert Ross-directed Play It Again, Sam, based on Allen’s own play, which apart from being the origin of one of film history’s most oft-repeated misquotes, was where Keaton and Allen met and began dating when they starred together in the stage production in 1969. They had separated as lovers but grown as friends and artists by the time of the film adaptation, which is a delightful little screwball farce that is ultimately just a showcase for Keaton and Allen’s remarkable comedic chemistry. There are worse things to showcase.
The next year came Sleeper, which some will say is the funniest film Allen ever made. I love Sleeper, but even among his famed “early funny ones,” it’s not my favorite. It is, however, wonderful proof of just how game a performer Keaton was and just how committed she could be to a gag. Allen ultimately stopped making this kind of film, but I wonder if that is partially due to the fact there would never be another actress who could communicate Allen’s particular zaniness so effortlessly.
In 1975, we got Love and Death, for my money the peak of Allen’s early period and possibly the most goofily self-aware movie ever made, by Allen or anyone else. A parody of Russian literature and Western philosophy, the script breathlessly quotes Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy, and Socrates, all set to a booming Prokofiev symphony, and at the same time, it deflates the balloon on the self-importance of all this philosophising and pedantry.
Once again, Allen and Keaton proved there would be few comedic duos to match them. Just look at this exchange of dialogue from early in the film:
Keaton: Boris, let me show you how absurd your position is. All right, let’s say that there is no god and each man is free to do exactly as he chooses. Well, what prevents you from murdering somebody?
Allen: Well, murder’s immoral.
Keaton: Immorality is subjective.
Allen: Yes, but subjectivity is objective.
Keaton: Not in any rational scheme of perception.
Allen: Perception is irrational and implies imminence.
Keaton: But judgment of any system or a priori phenomena exists in any rational or metaphysical or at least epistemological contradiction to an abstracted empirical concept such as being or to be or to occur in the thing itself or of the thing itself.
Allen: Yeah, I’ve said that many times.
If you’d like an insight into how my sense of humor and view of the world developed when I was younger, that 30-second exchange is about as comprehensive an understanding as I can offer outside of the next film we’re going to discuss. It’s perfectly aware of the absurdity of its own high-falutin airs while being smart enough to prick its own pomposity by the end.
That said, if it only works on the page, you don’t have a film. The only reason this works on film is because Keaton is the only actress in the world who could wrap her teeth and tongue around probably the only monologue in film history to reference both a priori phenomena and epistemological contradiction. Again, in her hands, effortless and hilarious.
And then, there was Annie Hall. Or, should I say, and then, she was Annie Hall. The Best Picture winner of 1977, famously beating out Star Wars, among others. Best Director and Best Original Screenplay, neither of which did Allen show up to collect. And, most importantly for our purposes, Best Actress winner Diane Keaton.
Alongside the Godfather films, Annie Hall is another of the most important American movies ever made. It is the template for any serious romantic comedy that would come after it. It is the quintessential relationship movie. It’s goddamn funny to its very core. And, it is, if pressed to name just one, my favorite film of all time. I could write 10,000 words on this film alone, but I will spare you that to focus solely on Keaton.
In brief, Keaton’s performance in Annie Hall is the reason words like singular needed to be invented. Keaton embodies the character in mind, body, soul, and iconically in wardrobe. Though Allen based the character in part on Keaton, it is distinctly a character, and in being so, it is one of the most richly layered and honestly observed characters ever committed to film.
She’s a flibbertigibbet, yes, but she knows it, and to the extent that she thinks it’s an issue, she’s working on it. But, she is also wholly herself, seeking to discover more of who she is through experiences and inquiries. She’s not afraid to try things. She chastises herself for claiming to “dabble” in photography, but she commits to taking photographs and those pictures become part of the film’s texture. She wants to sing, so she sings. She believes it goes horribly, but she does it again anyway.
Annie is an aspirational figure in so much as we should all aspire to be so open and honest, so willing to try and so willing to fail and try again. But, Annie doesn’t exist without Keaton, that most open, honest, and vulnerable of performers, willing to try anything on screen, to fail, and try again. You don’t get to “La di da, la di da, la la” without being truthful about yourself as a performer and locating that same truth in your character. It is a performance that is unmatched, irreplaceable, and irreplicable.
They made Interiors together the next year, an Ingmar Bergman-inspired family drama that was Allen’s first capital-S Serious film. For my money, it’s another masterpiece that has fallen a bit by the wayside in the director’s filmography. Keaton does not have the showiest of roles in the film – those would belong to the Oscar-nominated Geraldine Page and the also-nominated Maureen Stapleton – but it is invigorating to watch the longtime comedic collaborators try something wholly different and succeed so well.
Finally, there is Manhattan, which is perhaps the most tainted and controversial of all of Allen’s films. Tellingly, it was not controversial then. In fact, it was his biggest box office hit. However, despite being undeniably brilliant and one of the most gorgeous films ever made, it becomes harder and harder to love with each passing year. While this is a necessary cultural corrective, it is also no fault of Keaton’s, who plays the adult love interest in the movie.
Her caustic self-assurance is miles removed from Annie Hall (same great fashion sense, though), and it is remarkable to watch the nuance Keaton finds in a kind of proto-Clementine for Eternal Sunshine fans (“just a fucked up girl who’s looking for her own peace of mind”).
Keaton would make a brief appearance in Allen’s 1987 film Radio Days as a singer, and she would take over the Mia Farrow role in 1993’s Manhattan Murder Mystery once working with Farrow became … not an option. Those are both fun, and in light of the success of Only Murders in the Building and similar concepts, I do believe Manhattan Murder Mystery is ready for a reappraisal, but this is all later at different points in both of their careers.
Ultimately, Keaton’s work left an indelible mark on the history of the medium. The Godfather, Annie Hall, Reds – that would be enough, and yet, there was so much more. It is a cliche to say that there will never be another performer like her, but there will not be. There could not be. So just know that if you’re walking through Central Park, like so many of her characters did, and the changing fall leaves seem a little duller than usual, it’s because Diane Keaton isn’t around anymore, and the world’s a little less magical.
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