Is John Green the Woody Allen of literature?

was the bj thing john green or woody?

It's a John Green thing. Woody's never that lewd.

Isn't his audience like...teenage girls?

and fags

What a creepy dude

>Just as the Bradys were getting locked in jail, Lara randomly asked me, “Have you ever gotten a blowjob?”
>“Um, that’s out of the blue,” I said.
>“The blue?”
>“Like, you know, out of left field.”
>“Left field?”
>“Like, in baseball. Like, out of nowhere. I mean, what made you think of that?”
>“I’ve just never geeven one,” she answered, her little voice dripping with seductiveness. It was so brazen. I thought I would explode. I never thought. I mean, from Alaska, hearing that stuff was one thing. But to hear her sweet little Romanian voice go so sexy all of the sudden...
>“No,” I said. “I never have.”
>“Think it would be fun?”
>DO I!?!?!?!?!?!?! “Um. yeah. I mean, you don’t have to.”
>“I think I want to,” she said, and we kissed a little, and then. And then with me sitting watching The Brady Bunch, watching Marcia Marcia Marcia up to her Brady antics, Lara unbuttoned my pants and pulled my boxers down a little and pulled out my penis.
>“Wow,” she said.
>“What?”
>She looked up at me, but didn’t move, her face nanometers away from my penis. “It’s weird.”
>“What do you mean weird?”
>“Just beeg, I guess.”
>I could live with that kind of weird. And then she wrapped her hand around it and put it into her mouth.
>And waited.
>We were both very still. She did not move a muscle in her body, and I did not move a muscle in mine. I knew that at this point something else was supposed to happen, but I wasn’t quite sure what.
>She stayed still. I could feel her nervous breath. For minutes, for as long as it took the Bradys to steal the key and unlock themselves from the ghost-town jail, she lay there, stock-still with my penis in her mouth, and I sat there, waiting.
>And then she took it out of her mouth and looked up at me quizzically.
>“Should I do sometheeng?”
>“Um. I don’t know,” I said. Everything I’d learned from watching porn with Alaska suddenly exited my brain. I thought maybe she should move her head up and down, but wouldn’t that choke her? So I just stayed quiet.
>“Should I, like, bite?”
>“Don’t bite! I mean, I don’t think. I think—I mean, that felt good. That was nice. I don’t know if there’s something else.”
>“I mean, you deedn’t—”
>“Um. Maybe we should ask Alaska.”
>So we went to her room and asked Alaska. She laughed and laughed. Sitting on her bed, she laughed until she cried. She walked into the bathroom, returned with a tube of toothpaste, and showed us. In detail. Never have I so wanted to be Crest Complete.
>Lara and I went back to her room, where she did exactly what Alaska told her to do, and I did exactly what Alaska said I would do, which was die a hundred little ecstatic deaths, my fists clenched, my body shaking. It was my first orgasm with a girl, and afterward, I was embarrassed and nervous, and so, clearly, was Lara, who finally broke the silence by asking, “So, want to do some homework?”

Nigga, what the fuck?

No wonder girls grow up to be sluts if they are reading this shit at 12.

The difference is thay Woody Allen always subtly hides critique of his own characters in his films. Although Alvy Singer from Annie Hall fancies himself an intellectual - he cant see that his own actions led to the downfall of his own relationship.

Allen was a master of characterization and sketching out human self delusion. The fact that you compare him to someone like John Green shows how superficial your understanding is.

You forgot the part where both were accused of molesting their stepdaughters.

Woody can be pretty far up his own ass sometimes. I like Stardust Memories, but that's a very pretentious movie.

The sonofabitch was right, behind that facade the dude was a pedophile.

Why is it pretentious?

Some people compare it to Fellini, but Stardust Memories is better than 8.5 because it shows a confident creator who just feels that the world is getting in his way (and he's also crap at relationships) as opposed to the 'suffering artist' of 8.5

It shows the beauty and power of art and how people latch on to it slavishly.

>Describes me perfectly

It's just so obviously self-indulgent. I think it's the most perfect example of what Orson was talking about here.

I take it you've never watched a film past Bergman

Orson is so based.

I'm not sure what you mean by that.

So what if it is? Orson Welles himself was pretty damn self indulgent, but in a different way. Just look at F for Fake

That you're really excited to call things pretentious. Either you just learned the word, or you've explored very little.

That's true. I think it's just that the Welles and Woody brands of self-indulgence are interesting and fun, while John Green is just boring.

I guess it's not necessarily a bad thing to be self-indulgent, even though I think Stardust Memories goes a little too far. It's more about if you have interesting things to say about yourself.

Orson was great.

You need to give evidence of how the self indulgence "goes too far". Even in Stardust Memories, Allen still has a second layer where he critiques the character of Sandy as well. It works on many layers.

>Allen still has a second layer where he critiques the character of Sandy as well.
Even then, he's still fixated on himself, analyzing his own flaws. It's still a movie that's all about himself.

Of course, that's if the movie is meant to be autobiographical. Woody has always denied it, but that's the way every single person reads it.

>he's still fixated on himself

It doesn't really matter whether its fixated on himself, or whether its autobiographical. What matters is how it does it. Proust wrote a book all about himself and he still has something amazing to say about how memory works. In the case of SM, it has something amazing to say about the way art works.

Here is what a certain critic had to say about Sandy's character by the way:

"Given the film’s look at celebrity, it is easy, then, to see why the Sandy persona has been so conflated with the real-life Woody Allen, but it’s just not so, for the two are clearly different. In the film, Sandy Bates is not only flawed, but responds to an irony and authority that Woody (not Sandy) creates, even if Sandy’s meta-film includes much of this wisdom already. Yes, Woody is critical ‘in real life,’ and Sandy is as well, but Sandy’s conflict is really the nature of all artistic misrepresentation, where critics read into or even openly destroy perfectly good works, a reality that is unique to neither Woody nor Sandy. To go a step further, nowhere in his biography, interviews, or real-life anecdotes can we deduce that Woody is bitter about anything, or angry at producers and studio execs, for one of Sandy’s main issues (an artistic one) is others’ tampering, which Woody barely experienced, as well as others’ demands on his person (and not merely his fame), which most critics (Allen included) simply ascribe to existential angst. Yet Sandy is neither destructive, as is claimed, weak, nor even the all-loathing “whiner” Roger Ebert says he is, but is, on the whole, a well put-together human being who ultimately sees farther and deeper than everyone else around him, continuing to make valuable work despite others’ great hostility and manipulation; the very antithesis of the word “whiner.” "

A few good points in there. Actually did make me think, though I myself am still a big fan of Ebert's review of the movie. I may rewatch it sometime.

Yea, Alex Sheremet is a really good reviewer who wrote this book analyzing every single film in detail called Woody Allen Reel2Real. The most important statement he makes about Stardust is this one:

The fact is, Sandy Bates — whether real or fiction, wholly or in part — nonetheless exists as a character within a specific film, with certain views, interactions, and relationships, and it is far more important to evaluate those, within the film’s universe, than trying to extrapolate biography from its sum. At its core, the film is an examination of art and its pitfalls (beautifully reproduced, I might add, in the real-life critics’ misrepresentations, as if part of some meta meta-film, whose architect is still a mystery), what it can do, and cannot do, and where human identity fits within this nexus. Art, for instance, is not Sandy’s ‘savior’ (as it isn’t for Renata in Interiors), although, as the critic at the beginning of the film points out, it is very much a “gift” — and larger, in fact, than any of the possible alternatives. Thus, it is not at all a bleak film, but a wholly optimistic one, for even if art cannot save the flatterers, critics, the needy, nor even Bates, himself, it is simply because they do not see its magnetism, hung up, as they are, on themselves, and are treating the thing in a purely selfish manner: the critics, producers, etc., as wanting to get a piece of the action by manipulating the finished product, or Sandy, as a means to get some answer for himself, rather than for the whole of humanity, which is really at the level that the best art functions.

>Some people compare it to Fellini, but Stardust Memories is better than 8.5 because it shows a confident creator who just feels that the world is getting in his way (and he's also crap at relationships) as opposed to the 'suffering artist' of 8.5
Coming in as a guy who hasn't seen Stardust Memories, but isn't 8 1/2 about the fact that we're not supposed to resonate with Guido?

>all their lead male characters are versions of their creators, either as they see themselves, or as they wish they were

Isn't this the case with most literature? The author relates himself with the protagonist in one way or another?

Yea, but it's all about the how. Anyway, Fellini also did it way better in La Dolce Vita.