There was a time when Woody Allen wasn’t making incredibly safe, often innocuous films about self-centred romantics hoping to find some meaning in worlds they don’t understand, but rather capable of telling stories that were edgy, subversive and even a bit controversial at times, and indicative of a filmmaker who was intent on satirizing anyone who he felt could benefit from some good-natured ribbing. Every time I watch one of his earlier films, I’m reminded of the fact that at his peak, no one was funnier or more brilliant when it comes to representing our collective foibles as a species as Allen, and regardless of what specific themes he focused on in each film, his perspective was always fresh and incredibly exciting. A comic genius in every sense of the word, Allen managed to tell stories in his own subversive way, taking aim at various subjects that are not always so clearly associated with comedy, but were repurposed as the storylines for some of the most outrageous films of their time. Bananas is one of his funniest, and certainly severely underrated, films, taking on the subject of military dictatorships and fascism in a way only someone with the chaotic sense of humour that the director could have possibly have pulled off with such defiant brilliance. If there was any proof that no one could do comedy like Woody Allen, Bananas is definitely it.

Fielding Mellish (Allen) is an ordinary blue-collar working man. He doesn’t aspire to much, but he does prefer to have some direction in his otherwise banal life, as well as someone to share it with, being perpetually unlucky when it comes to finding romantic partners. Nancy (Louise Lasser) is a young woman fighting for social justice who crosses paths with Fielding, and who enlightens him into the political machinations of the small South American country of San Marcos, which has recently seen its long-term government overthrown, and replaced by a fascist dictatorship led by the enigmatic General Emilio Molina Vargas (Carlos Montalban), a malicious military leader who takes control of the country. In an effort to prove himself to the woman he loves, Fielding travels to the small country to help in the efforts against the government by a group of rebels who are intent on causing yet another revolution to overthrow the dictatorship. What was meant to just be a symbolic trip to show support eventually becomes something far more complex for Fielding, who soon finds himself ensnared in the political warfare, eventually even rising, through no fault of his own, to the presidency of the nation, and inheriting a whole bevvy of problems he never expected to encounter.

When satire is done right, rarely anything else is funnier, and Bananas is the most potent kind of comedy. Allen demonstrates himself not only as a great writer, but as a terrific director, bringing together some complex themes into one of the most daring exercises in subversive comedy of its time. The world was still in the height of the Cold War around the time of the film – the Cuban Missile Crisis was less than a decade before, and the USA was still in Vietnam. Communism was a concept that terrified most of the world – so naturally, Allen goes ahead and addresses all of these ideas through the most inappropriate and flippant comedy possible, crafting a satire that is broad on the surface, but exceptionally intelligent in what it conveys, even if it isn’t clear from the outset. Satire is a tricky business, but Allen seemingly masters it in Bananas, once again taking aim at not only a specific society but rather the entirety of humanity, commenting on our collective neuroses and adorable quirks through engaging with a specific aspect of the human condition. It’s gloriously twisted work from a director who was always profoundly dedicated to making us laugh, even if it was at the expense of some extremely dark humour, a tendency he was unfortunately lost in recent years. His artistic inspirations are very clear in the film – in fact, Allen seems to be doing a very subtle impersonation of Groucho Marx throughout the film, even going so far as to puff on a large cigar in between wisecracks. Yet, it never seems inauthentic or like a parody, but rather a loving homage that works out tremendously.

What makes Bananas so tremendously effective is how Allen is able to find the perfect balance between dumb humour and intricate satire – his films at this period did focus on some niche subjects, but never felt exclusionary to the audience, many of whom may not have always understood some parts of the film (and watching Bananas in 2019 is a profoundly different experience, as the world has fundamentally changed, even if the concept of dictatorships has never been so relevant as it is now – the demagogues this film takes aim at unfortunately still very resonant in contemporary politics). It utilizes a blend of broad and detailed humour to create a film that will enthral absolutely everyone – for those who understand the socio-political overtones of the film, it presents one of the smartest satires that presents very dour concepts as the subject of pure entertainment. For those new to the ideas this film draws from, Bananas provides a succinct and entertaining overview of events that will captivate even the most cynical of viewers, with the director managing to find a certain simplicity in how the engages with the subject matter. Allen doesn’t get the credit he deserves when it comes to how highly original his films always tended to be, and while he has been recognized as one of the funniest filmmakers of his generation, being the perfect reference point for the transition between vaudeville and counterculture comedy, the radically intelligent work he did towards the beginning of his career, even when detached from their comedic basis, is still so relevant and brilliant. Who else could’ve made such an exuberant, hilarious film about communism and fascist governments that manages to be so smart, yet so gloriously stupid at the same time?

Allen has unfortunately lost his touch in recent years, and has never quite returned to the subversive brand of filmmaking he mastered, which is unfortunate because whether its communism in Bananas, the Russian Revolution in Love and Death (by far his funniest film), or the world of the future in Sleeper, Allen’s early work hit a comic nerve no one else has ever been able to quite capture the same anarchic spirit, where audacious concepts combine with absurd, and often increasingly surreal, touches of humour in the development of some complex ideas that are delivered with such simplicity and sincerity. Bananas is undeniably one of the funniest films of the 1970s, and whether we look at it as an edgy piece of comedy that borders dangerously on controversy, or as a relic of satire from a specific time in history, there is very little doubt that what Allen did here was craft a very stealthy masterpiece, a film that has many ideas flowing through it, but is able to find the time to address all of them – and whether its in the use of Howard Cosell as a live-commentator for the assassination of a president, or the beautifully deranged portrayal of communism that simplifies its significance without ever reducing it to just a bundle of quirks, this film resides right on the edge of indecency and controversy, but with Allen’s assured hand guiding it, it never feels inappropriate or forced. Hilarious, unhinged and often very dark, Bananas is a masterwork of satire, and even more proof that while he may have lost his touch, Allen in his peak was almost unimpeachably great, and no one could challenge him when it comes to unrestrained, outrageous comedy that was more than just silly humour, but deeply intricate satire as well.