Once upon a time there was a stand-up comic named Woody. And he started making movies. Silly movies. Movies that were kind of like "Airplane!" Not real big on plot or character or depth, but lots and lots of jokes. And a small cult of people loved these movies. But then one day Woody decided to make something a little smarter. A little less silly. A little more mature. And he called it "Annie Hall". And it was good. Not only did the small cult come out and see it, but a lot of real people went to this movie. And it made some money (which Woody didn't care about). And it won some Oscars (which Woody couldn't even be bothered to fly out to LA and pick up). And it allowed Woody to make pretty much whatever movies he wanted make for the rest of his life. And he did.

Because you see, Woody didn't want to be Zucker-Abrahms-&-Zucker he wanted to be Ingmar Bergman. So he starting making straight dramas, and films in black and white, and films about life and death and the meaning of it all. And a different kind of cult starting seeing his movies. But the first cult kept praying for their old Woody to come back and make movies like his "earlier, funnier" ones. But as the years rolled by it seemed less and less likely. He fell in love with a girl named Mia and together they made a lot of these movies. And they had jokes. And they were kinda funny. But they weren't "Bananas". They were trying to do more.

And then one day something happened. Woody definitely did some bad things. And Woody may have done some worse things. And Mia certainly wouldn't be in his movies anymore. And suddenly he was in love with a much, much, much younger woman. And maybe this lightened his heart. Or maybe it lightened his wallet. His cult now saw him as kinda creepy. So Woody started making funny movies again. Or at least movies that tried to be funny. And weren't trying to do anything.

He re-united with his "Annie Hall" Diane Keaton and made the amusing if lightweight "Manhattan Murder Mystery". He hired Kenneth Branaugh to pretty much play himself in "Celebrity" so that people wouldn't be creeped out or skeptical when he kept getting young beautiful women. (Even though he actually did in real life). He added musical numbers to the usual formula in one ("Everybody Says I Love You") a Greek chorus to another ("Mighty Aphrodite"), and lots of cursing and profanity to a third ("Deconstructing Harry"). He stopped releasing films during the art-house months of fall and putting them out during the Blockbuster days of spring and summer. He left the independent companies of the likes of Orion and Tri-Star, for the bigger ponds of DreamWorks. He even used a Leonardo DiCapprio fresh out of the waters of Titanic.

Forgetting all his bad words about television, he started doing movies for TV ("Don't Drink The Water"), ads for an Italian supermarket (starring the annoying Italian equivalent of Jim Carey, Roberto Begnini), he even phoned in - literally - a cameo for the sitcom "Just Shoot Me" (*gasp*). Before he had picky about the two or three times he appeared other director's movies. Suddenly he's starring in made-for-TV and direct-to-video flops (like "The Sunshine Boys" and "Picking Up The Pieces") and making unbilled cameos in other generally ignored films ("The Imposters", "Company Man"). His usual fear of leaving New York has been replaced his filming done in Greece, Paris, and Venice. Not to mention a tour of Europe with his band which before refused to ever play outside of one pub (Michael's) in Manhattan.

So how does this story end? Is this bad man forcing to eat crow in retribution for the crimes he committed? Or is this an old comic re-discovering his joy in life with a new love? Were these heartless commercial ploys to try and win back his audience? The last two "Small Time Crooks" and "Curse of the Jade Scorpion" have been his most financially successful films in the US in decades. And his next, "Hollywood Ending" seems all but earmarked for the same tone and release schedule. Was this great marketing by a man who once refused to compromise or were they the sincere efforts of an artist whose career has taken many an unexpected twist in the past? One does have to keep in mind that he has now been with Soon-Yi longer (eleven years and counting) than he was with either of his celebrated (and fruitful) relationships Mia or Diane Keaton. Maybe instead of appearing in his films this is Soon-Yi's contribution. Lightening them up. Anyone who was ever seen the documentary "Wild Man Blues" knows that there is a lot more to that relationship than one would guess from the tabloid headlines.

Combing through the post-Mia work of Woody, one notices a new theme emerging in addition to his usual worries. There is not one but THREE films in the recent Woody cannon about the discrepancy between a decent human being and a productive artist. In "Bullets Over Broadway" Woody seems to be saying that in order to be a great artist one must be morally ruthless. Life cannot get in the way of art. Cheech has to kill Olive in order to make the best play possible. Although, by making the John Cusack character the focus of the film, Woody does admit that it's perfectly acceptable to be a good, kind, decent human being. You just have to accept that you'll never be any sort of real artist that way.

"Deconstructing Harry" however places the spotlight on the other side of the coin, by showing us someone who has chosen to be a great writer rather than live a respectable humane life. It is not nearly all it's cracked up to be. Even Cheech's martyrdom for his play looks preferable to the wreck that is Harry Block's life. And the general scuzziness he maintains seems not to be a necessary trait of the genius, by rather an unfortunate side-effect. If one wants to have something to exciting to write about, one has to do live through a lot of bad shit.

The final film of the trilogy, "Sweet and Lowdown" is also clearly the most ambitious of his Post-Mia works. Here, again he is working with the mockumentary structure that served him so well in such other different periods in his career. In "Take The Money And Run" he used it to cover up some of the inevitable mistakes of being a first time director. With "Zelig" he used the documentary look to give added weight of realism to what would have been an otherwise fantastic tale. But "Sweet & Lowdown", much like "Husbands & Wives" (or "Radio Days" narration) uses the format as a way to string together an otherwise plotless series of short stories.

And unlike Harry Block or Cheech, Emmet Ray's stories seem to tell us that if he had been a nicer person in real life, not only would he have been happier, he would've made better music as well. Did woody finally realize - or did he know all along - that art is no excuse for bad behavior. Maybe this fairy tale has a happy ending after all...