I won’t link to the article, it’s behind a paywall and in any case, that sewer is probably the only American site that would publish him.
Woody Allen:
It’s grammatically incorrect to say “most unique,” but all rules of grammar, and I guess anything else, are suspended when talking about Diane Keaton. Unlike anyone the planet has experienced or is unlikely to ever see again, her face and laugh illuminated any space she entered.
I first laid eyes on her lanky beauty at an audition and thought, If Huckleberry Finn was a gorgeous young woman, he’d be Keaton. Fresh out of Orange County, she flew to Manhattan to act, got a job as a coat check girl, and was hired for a small part in the musical Hair, in which she eventually had the lead.
Meanwhile, David Merrick and I were auditioning actresses in the Morosco Theatre for my play Play It Again, Sam. Sandy Meisner taught an acting class and told Merrick about an up-and-coming actress who was amazing. She came in and read for us and knocked us both for a loop.
A small glitch was that she appeared to be taller than me, and we didn't want that to figure in the jokes. Like two schoolkids, we stood back-to-back on the stage of the Morosco and measured. Fortunately we were the same height, and Merrick hired her.
For the first week of rehearsal we never spoke a word to one another. She was shy, I was shy, and with two shy people things can get pretty dull. Finally, by chance we took a break at the same moment and wound up sharing a fast bite at some Eighth Avenue joint. That was our first moment of personal contact. The upshot is that she was so charming, so beautiful, so magical, that I questioned my sanity. I thought: Could I be in love so quickly?
By the time the show opened in Washington, D.C., we were lovers. About then, I showed her my first film privately and prepared her for what a mess it was, how awful, a total failure. She sat through Take the Money and Run and said the movie was very funny and very original. Her words.
Her words. Its success proved her correct and I never doubted her judgment again. I showed her every film I made after that and grew to care only about her appraisals.
As time went on I made movies for an audience of one, Diane Keaton. I never read a single review of my work and cared only what Keaton had to say about it. If she liked it, I counted the film as an artistic success.
If she was less than enthusiastic, I tried to use her criticism to reedit and come away with something she felt better about. By then we were living together and I was seeing the world through her eyes. She had huge talent for comedies and drama, but she could also dance and sing with feeling.
She also wrote books and did photography, made collages, decorated homes, and directed films. Finally, she was a million laughs to be around.
For all her shyness and self-effacing personality, she was totally secure in her own aesthetic judgment.
Whether she was criticizing a movie of mine or a play of Shakespeare's, she held both to the same If she felt Shakespeare had gone wrong—it didn't matter who or how many sang his praises, it was her own feeling that she went with, and she didn't hesitate to put the knock on the Bard.
Her fashion sense was a sight to behold, of course. Her sartorial concoctions rivaled the contraptions of Rube Goldberg. She put together clothing that defied logic but always worked. In later years, her look became more elegant.