Even though he has directed nearly 50 films over the course of half a century, and his career has undergone different stylistic ebbs and flows as he has pursued different genres and techniques, its easy to tell when watching a Woody Allen film, since his work is defined by several very clear qualities that make them ultimately quite cohesive – strong scripts that are filled with philosophical dialogue, scathing wit and fascinating performances. In many ways, Husbands and Wives is the quintessential Woody Allen film – not necessarily his best, but rather the work that encapsulates his point of view better than most of what he made afterwards, at least in terms of the tone and how he balances comedy and drama, which is precisely the quality that makes this film in particular one of the more challenging films Allen ever produced. Made in conjunction with his regular team of collaborators (including Mia Farrow, in their final film together), and distinctly the work of a director whose ambitions vastly outweigh his ability to deliver on every single idea, but still does well enough to earn its place as one of the director’s more provocative films, Husbands and Wives is a peculiar film, and one that relishes in its ability to take us on a journey that feels far more complex than almost any other comedy that Allen has put together, which is not something that we may expect from a film that seems to be so deeply entrenched in the kind of humour that is drawn equally from existential philosophy and the human comedy that has so frequently been the subject of the director’s finest works.

Allen was certainly not a stranger to films that speak about relationships – in fact, it feels like Husbands and Wives came at the tail-end of a series of films in which the director was discussing the concept of romance in various forms. Whether outrageous comedies or more sombre affairs, his work reflected a deep curiosity with the idea of falling in love. As controversial as some of these stories may be, Allen is a romantic at heart, and his films normally feature characters who may have trouble with women, but still somehow find a way to have a happy ending, even if it means abandoning their hopes of a solid relationship going forward, and instead luxuriating in the splendour of those that exist in the past. Husbands and Wives follows a similar pattern, but from a slightly different perspective, offering something much deeper by looking at a set of characters who are at the end of the proverbial chain of romance – they’ve been married for decades, and have simply gradually fallen out of love. There aren’t any grand revelations based on scandals, nor at there clear indications that their marriages were doomed – they simply did not find any passion in the relationship, which leads to the inevitable separations that many couples endure. Who else could make a film so deeply invested in discussing the concept of love and marriage, and have it start with two very unhappy couples, one of which announces their intention to a mutual split, in the very first scene, other than Allen? He has always had a very distinct view on the romantic experience, and this film sees him at his most sardonic, showing how unrealistic the concept of happy endings can be, a piece of socially-mediated folklore that too many people foolishly choose to believe.

Husbands and Wives is quite possibly the last truly cynical film Allen ever made. He did venture back into doing more dramatic work later on, but this came at the end of a cycle in which he was focused on looking at the darker and more sordid underbelly of American society, filtering these very complex ideas through his distinctly neurotic point of view. The fact that this story doesn’t centre on one individual, but rather two very different couples aids in giving multiple different perspectives, each one contributing to the disdainful approach to romance that Allen is so interested in exploring. There’s a darkness that underpins this film that makes it quite a polarizing work, and it doesn’t help that we enter into this film cognisant of the fact that it was made only a few months before Allen and Farrow ended their long-term relationship, bringing an end to a very strong professional and personal partnership that brought out some of their best work as artists. It seems almost irresponsible to label Husbands and Wives as a comedy, since it is one of the most bleak and haunting works Allen ever made – we tend to think that everything featuring this brand of paranoid, skittish individual is inherently a comedy, but there has rarely been a time when Allen has used this persona to such haunting effect. Without the humorous scenarios and witty writing, there’s very little doubt that Husbands and Wives would be seen as one of his most unsettling dramas, one that is far more aligned with works like Interiors and Another Woman than it is Manhattan or Annie Hall, particularly in how Allen reflects on a more arid perspective on relationships and the broken promises that supposedly come when one chooses to get married or engage in a long-term relationship. Whether he was simply curious or speaking from his own experiences is open to interpretation, but there’s very little doubt that this was some of his more sobering work to date, and possesses a gloom to which he has yet to return, if he ever does.

In terms of the performances, this is also quite possibly one of the last times Allen truly committed himself to a role. It would be several years until he stopped the hilariously vain tradition of casting himself as these supposedly alluring romantic leads (instead replacing himself with several different surrogates that were essentially playing the same roles he would). He’s a very funny performer, but his acting often struggles with more dramatic fare, so it is hardly surprising he is the weakest of the quartet at the heart of Husbands and Wives – but he still delivers relatively strong work, it just pales in comparison to his co-stars, which seemed like an intentional choice. However, the strongest is surprisingly not Judy Davis, who most have seemed to rally around in terms of the film’s most complex performance (when in reality she is shrill and despicable), but is rather between Mia Farrow and Sydney Pollack, both of whom are the standouts. Farrow did her greatest work under Allen’s direction, so its hardly surprising that she is resplendent here, even when playing a more internal character whose complexities lie within (but this has often been her strongest skill as a performer), and Pollack takes on the part of a man who is both assured and indecisive, someone who doesn’t know what he wants, but is committed to trying to get it anyway. They both handle the dialogue well, and are the emotional anchors that keep the film compelling and interesting. They’re also the only two who seem to be able to play into the inherent melancholy that simmers beneath the film, capturing the existential ennui that Allen as an actor tends to overplay, and Davis simply struggles to grasp. It’s an ensemble composed of four different actors playing their roles to varying degrees of intensity, but somehow these differences all work to the film’s favour, as they each fit in well with one another and the overall tone of the film, which depended on strong actors to bring it to life.

In a career that has seen him vary in terms of story, genre and quality of work, there’s very little doubt that Husbands and Wives is Allen’s most uncomfortable film – although unlike his genuine failures (which are few and far between, but still exist), this seems to be entirely by design. There’s a level of awkwardness to this film that feels like it is inviting us to peer into the lives of these two couples and gawk at the gradual deterioration of their marriages and other romantic endeavours. Despite being a lot darker than many of his more conventional comedies, Husbands and Wives is still made with the kind of irreverent humour we’d expect from Allen, with the difference being that the intention here is far more complex than simply extracting laughter, but rather provoking thought. It’s a very reflective film, one that meditates on a range of challenging ideas which can be difficult to interpret without some guidance. This is not the bold, beautiful declaration of love and admiration we’d expect from a director who has proven himself to be a hopeless romantic with many of his more upbeat films, and it can be quite polarizing, especially to those of us who may not be fully aware of the psychological toll that a declining relationship can have. This is not quite Scenes from a Marriage in how it approaches the concept of a couple finding themselves at a proverbial crossroads in terms of their relationship, but it employs many of those same ideas, and through the combination of comedy and tragedy, Allen puts together a provocative and insightful dark comedy that can be quite desolate at times, but represents his unique artistry and understanding of the human condition better than nearly anything else has made in the last three decades.