Allen v. Farrow

In an effort to touch on everything, some sub-topics (separating the art from the artist for Woody fans, the scuttled release of his latest film A Rainy Day in New York) get addressed so glancingly, they’d be best omitted. But however overinflated, the series has a lucid sense of its central image: that of a family ripped in half, with the kids left to choose sides.

It’s a harrowing watch. But there’s a difference between criticizing the survivor and criticizing the project constructed around her — which is important to note, because Dick and Ziering have made choices that don’t always work and built arguments that aren’t as convincing as Dylan’s own words.

If a punishing watch, it is a valuable thing to have as a part of the cultural record, twice over: It allows, at expansive length, Dylan to meaningfully be heard, and not solely about the worst thing that ever happened to her. ... This work is imperfect. One senses in the voices of cultural commentators employed by Dick and Ziering a desire to place a new spin on questions of “separating the art from the artist” and of perceived great men escaping culpability. The series is neither equipped to answer these, nor, at its best, about them.

Dylan’s motives are impossible to fault: She tells the filmmakers that she wants to share her experiences again so that others who have endured what she has feel less alone. She deserves to get to do that, and if more exposure brings catharsis, then so be it. But the paradox is that in portraying events so selectively, Allen v. Farrow leaves too much room for yet another public wrangling.

“Allen v. Farrow” justifies itself when all anyone can look at is Dylan, but so frequently undercuts (and even debases) itself, and her, through overbearingly crummy technique.