This is a Woody Allen movie without Allen’s direction: New York
setting, snappy one-liners about mortality, sex, money and relationships, with
a small ensemble cast in which the little represents the big. The duo, John
Turturro and Woody Allen, are pickle and rye as Murray (Allen) persuades
Fioravante (Turturro) to do turns for money, as dermatologist (Sharon Stone) is
turned by the idea of a ménage. The fading gigolo, like the film’s autumnal cinematography,
is a series of passing moments. Fioravante speaks with many tongues and has
healing hands. There is no real threat, even when he falls for Hassidic widow
(Vanessa Paradis) under the watchful eye of her strict community. This is not a
film for the plot-conscious, but its pace is superb, matched by an evocative Jazz/Kletzmer
score. Fading Gigolo captures the bittersweet
quality of life passing and life having passed, served on the rocks, New York
style. And see the winsome look Allen gives Turturro at the end as if to say: ‘couldn’t
have done it better myself.’
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