People are often surprised when I tell them this is not just comfortably my favorite Woody Allen film, but one of my favorites of all time. Sometimes I am too. But to me, “Hannah” is the consummate Allen work, evenly bridging his strengths as a comedian and as a dramatist, his observational warmth and his literary aloofness, his sometimes endearing solipsism and his keenly prying human insight – particularly into an opposite gender that no longer seems to fascinate him as it once so productively did. Structured like a elegantly wayward, distraction-laden but persistently truthful novel, it reaches an atypically redemptive close that the director has since dismissed as sentimental. We know better. Plus, it introduced me to e.e. cummings. What more can a film do?