Grade: ***
The villainous, independent nature of Keaton’s Sonja at least gives her a foothold towards securing the attentions of the gazing public, the only remotely significant female character of “Love and Death,” and by far its chilliest representation of Russian nobility. The way in which she appears at once contemplative, and then brazenly dismissive, teases Allen’s lovestruck Boris into false hope – both of a union, and that she might possess an inkling of compassion. As a comedic device, this meshes well with the instinctively shallow aspects of Sonja; her thirst for male attention, tendency to commit too early, and her unashamed promiscuity. A satirical embodiment of what the most famous (or infamous) women in history are famous for – sleeping around – Sonja allows Keaton to use her quirks as an actress, transforming the character’s standoffishness into a dry outlet for humour .
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