I never knew Woody Allen could be quite so clever. His films often display his love and knowledge of film, of philosophy and politics. Annie Hall is the filmic realisation. Embracing a variety of devices, for starters addressing the audience (even mid-scene and back and forth), Allen isn’t grabbing for scattershot gimmicks (“My mind tends to jump around a little.”) but opening a window into his subconscious. A feast of novel technique that consistently contributes to greater meaning, best of all is allowing (a projection of) Annie Hall into his memories – a technique later perfected in Fight Club and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Allen’s piece doesn’t share the great emotional resonance of the latter, but it’s pretty damn hard to knock it.