You’d certainly be hard-pressed to find a film produced since the 1940s that didn’t owe some of its existence to Casablanca, whether it be the iconic imagery, memorable characters or memorable dialogue. The latter occupies a slightly odd position, since arguably the most famous line in the film, where the suave but mysterious Rick Blaine looks to his bar’s pianist and says “play it again, Sam” – and any film lover will know, as fascinating as this line may be, it is one of the many cases of audiences misremembering a specific detail, since it was never said quite like this. However, this didn’t stop Woody Allen from using the misquoted line as the title for his successful stageplay (perhaps intentionally), and which was later turned into a film, with Allen himself adapting his show, and working with Herbert Ross to commit it to the screen, in one of his earliest starring roles, after a few years of being a comedic force of nature that pushed the boundaries of comedy in ways that would be highly influential. There’s not much of a plot, but it feels like Allen was playing around with a few ideas that would be better developed in later works, with this film essentially being an early attempt to write something slightly more complex, and handing the directorial position to a seasoned veteran, who may not inspire as much excitement as a more dynamic filmmaker, but whose assured touch and willingness to commit to the material makes him a worthy person to helm the production. Play It Again, Sam is a terrific film with a lot of good ideas, many of which sew the seeds that Allen would later reap in his more celebrated works, once he momentarily put aside the absurdist slapstick comedy, and realized he is capable of much more complexity than some of his detractors may have suggested at the time.

In many ways, Play It Again, Sam feels like an outlier in Allen’s career – it certainly exudes the same very peculiar energy that made most of the films he made at his peak so remarkable, and it has an identical sense of humour and approach to characterization. The reason this feels like an outlier is very simple – Allen himself didn’t direct it, but instead handed the reigns over to Ross, who once again proved that he was a very effective filmmaker when it came to adapting stage productions to the screen. The precise reasons for Allen not serving as a director are not entirely clear – some may argue that he was still untested as a director, since he had made a couple of films, but these were mainly very broad comedies, while this one warranted a more seasoned veteran at the helm, in order to capture the emotional nuances. This is the most likely argument, especially since it is a massive departure from Allen’s usual vehicles – but needless to say, this was only the start of what would become a much more assured storyteller on his part, since he eventually did manage to move into the realm of directing slightly more serious films, albeit ones that were still extraordinarily funny, just not as ostentatious as Bananas or Take the Money and Run, which are much broader films. This is not to disparage Ross in any way – he was the epitome of reliability, and his ability to take plays and other texts and carefully place them on screen in a way that feels natural and true to the original is the reason he remained perpetually hired until he retired from filmmaking several years later. He was an important figure in facilitating Allen’s transition from outrageous slapstick comedies to more complex works, with Play It Again, Sam setting him off on a much more consistent course.

Play It Again, Sam often feels like a dress rehearsal for Annie Hall, which is often considered Allen’s magnum opus. It is difficult to watch this film and not see how it contains many great ideas that are executed without many effective results here, but were rather developed further and assimilated into the director’s later work. Allan Felix is an early version of many of Allen’s more notable creations, with the role of the paranoid intellectual (who is apparently a film critic, although he seems more like someone who professionally goes to the cinema, since we never see him do any actual writing) is his bread-and-butter, and it’s far from a stretch to see a film constructed around this persona. However, as we’ve often seen from his work, when this kind of narrative is done well, it can be incredibly entertaining and very insightful, with Allen’s penchant for telling these stories, and paying attention to detail, but exceptional. Perhaps it doesn’t go as far as it could have, but the blend of socio-cultural commentary (which we’d see in films like Annie Hall or Hannah and Her Sisters), or the absurdist, almost fantastical sense of otherworldly interactions (which formed the foundation of The Purple Rose of Cairo and Alice, amongst many others) prove that Play It Again, Sam was mainly a way for Allen to have a safe space to experiment as a writer, working closely with Ross to bring this vision forward and establish something that may seem conventional on the surface, but sets a foundation for half a century of strong storytelling that we’d be encountering as soon as Allen stepped behind a camera and tried something slightly more serious, which was inevitable, even if it took a few years.

In terms of a narrative, the film isn’t all that groundbreaking – the story of a neurotic nebbish trying and failing to secure a romantic relationship is the foundation of the majority of the director’s work, or at least one of the central themes, especially in the films that feature Allen himself in the central role. Yet, there is still so much interesting commentary in seeing him playing a character that is actually surprisingly complex, especially since he has never been one of the more versatile actors of his era. Having the role of director relegated elsewhere normally allows Allen more freedom to turn in strong performances, where the burden of having to craft a decent film as a director being given to someone else (and in this case, a director with a strong track record for simple but well-made films) – and it shows, since he may be playing a character very much within his wheelhouse, but it’s one of the more successful versions of this archetype, being second to only Alvy Singer in terms of being the perfect combination of unconventional charm and hilarious neurosis, which makes for a very compelling performance. He’s contrasted by Diane Keaton in the first of what was to become eight collaborations between the two, making her one of his strongest collaborators, and someone who understands his style. She’s much more subdued than she’d be in later pairings, almost as if she was too hesitant to fully commit to the madness inherent to the character and the film that surrounds her (especially since she was still a relatively serious actress at this point, being a few years from fully leaning into her eccentricity, which the aforementioned Annie Hall undeniably kickstarted to the point where it became her signature role) – but the chemistry between them is palpable, and its hardly surprising that Allen would cast her frequently in the coming two decades.

Play It Again, Sam is understandably considered a slightly lesser offering when looking at Allen’s career. Part of this is due to it not officially being a film on which he served as the director (but as both the writer of the original play, and the person tasked with adapting it, he did hold considerable authorial power over the development), but also because it is a film in which Allen was trying a few new techniques in terms of storytelling, many of which are a lot more complex than the off-the-wall hilarity viewers were used to at the time. This alone doesn’t qualify Play It Again, Sam as a minor work, but rather one that is viewed as the start, rather than the peak. Allen would make many astonishing films, several of which are considered the gold standard of the romantic comedy – and like many of his creative ancestors, these successful works could only be made possible through the process of trial and error. Play It Again, Sam serves as Allen’s foray into more conscious, meaningful storytelling, and while it does have its imperfections, it is still a very well-constructed comedy, a daring and fascinating character study that has many great moments (the brief exchange between Allen and an anonymous young woman remains one of the funniest scenes he ever wrote, and one that is suitably iconic). It’s a tremendously entertaining and lighthearted film that has a lot of depth and a suitably interesting premise, and when dealing with this material, this is more than sufficient to be an entertaining romp that hints at the promising films that were lingering on the horizon.