I’m calling it, I’m standing up and saying it, I’ll tell anybody who will listen: This is Woody Allen’s best dramatic film. He’s stopped making dramas like he’s comparing notes the whole time with Ingmar Bergman. He lets some humor shine in while he runs his characters through the emotional wringer. They have concrete problems that don’t lead to lots of abstract angst about death and aging. Cate Blanchett’s problems are survival and keeping her sanity after her rich businessman husband is arrested due to some shady deals. She goes from wealthy to desperate in an instant. That would be a harrowing test for even a strong person, but she’s not strong. She’s thoroughly humiliated with no survival skills. She doesn’t even have good friends. All she has is a mostly ignored sister (Sally Hawkins) who lives modestly in San Franciso, some pills and some booze. Blanchett’s performance is a powerhouse and a standout even among the many great lead performances from actresses in Allen’s films. She’s an exposed nerve. She’s not on the verge of falling apart; she’s fallen apart. Blanchett gets to cry, yell, rant and rave, but also has quiet moments in which she’s just as effecting. She overdoes nothing.
Allen’s script is a witty fusion of a fictionalized Ruth Madoff (wife of Enron exec Bernie Madoff) with A Streetcar Named Desire. He then borrowed the frame from one of his old funny short stories, “The Lunatic’s Tale” (about a street crazy who babbles to himself in a pinwheel hat and rollerskates, but who was once a successful man-about-to-town). As usual with Allen though, he didn’t write a tight plot. He wrote characters and then let them make the call as to where the film goes. Cate Blanchett’s Jasmine is a woman for whom there may be no happy ending. You also know that Allen, who has more than one downbeat ending in his body of work, isn’t afraid to go there.
The very title Blue Jasmine sounds like a sad old jazz tune, and that’s what this is.