This is not fresh content, but my way to remember Diane Keaton.
At its amiable best, the new film offers glimmers of its stars’ charming, quarrelsome old teamwork, although their exchanges are now dampened by the down-to-earth realities of long acquaintance. But in its less successful moments, hamstrung by the demands of a dated detective story, “Manhattan Murder Mystery” ignores its own obvious possibilities. It would be far more interesting to watch these two work out the aftermath of “Annie Hall” than to hear them theorize endlessly about an empty, genre-bound crime.
Maybe not an unfair assessment—particularly given that, according to Wikipedia, “[t]he film began as an early draft of Annie Hall”, which I didn’t know. Regardless, it’s still one of my top-five favorite movies, and my only exception to my Woody Allen embargo. Because what’s better than Diane Keaton trying to catch a murderer with a giant île flottante?