I Coppi (with a New Year)

A quick shout out for the East Village restaurant Liza and I dined in last night. Called 'I Coppi' (between Avenue A and 1st on 9th Street), it's an Italian which doesn't conform to the typical Village standards. That is to say, it's clean, not populated by hipsters (and don't you find the word 'hipster' to be anything but hip?) and has staff who don't aspire to a career in acting. Though their sudden outburst of operatic hits was most welcome (kidding). We were offered "the best table in the house" for some reason, which was a balcony affair - how very Romeo & Juliet - resplendent with flowers and no punters within earshot. Maybe it's a perk of marriage? The food was exquisite: pasta for me, a baby chicken (we never got to know you!) for the lady and a fine drop of red to wash it all down. And are we meant to praise a bill under $100 these days? Quite probably.

As for the before and after, well, the before was watching 'Match Point'. You'll be aware that critics are calling it "a return to form" and "Woody Allen's best film in years". But I think it's fair to say that the movie only needed to be adequate (i.e point the camera at the actor and make sure you can hear him/her) to have the "experts" salivating at the mouth over this one. The truth was that it was interesting precisely because it didn't resemble a Woody Allen film: he wasn't in it and the location was London and not New York. Speaking of which, I can't wait to read how significant it surely must be that the Gherkin building appears in the film - come on therapists, don't let me down! The performances were decent (the parents in particular) save for Scarlett Johansson. Her first words are, "so, who is my next victim?" and it soon dawns that the answer is us, the audience. She seems nervy throughout (no wonder Allen has already cast her in his next film, also being filmed in London) and you have to now wonder whether her breakout part in 'Lost In Translation' was a one off. None of the cast, meanwhile, are helped by Allen's idea of how the British upper classes speak. You'll cringe when hearing Tom exclaim "yum yum" after ordering at a restaurant though even Allen can't prevent James Nesbitt and Ewen Bremner turning in quality cameos towards the end. And whilst the dialogue and storyline are full of holes (this isn't really a spoiler when I write the words 'mobile phone records'), it's enjoyable hokum and beautifully shot to boot. There's one key scene three quarters of the way through which will make you think "that's bloody clever" and it's been far too long since we've been able to utter that at a Woody Allen film. Let's not get too carried away and call it game, set and match (point) but Woody is certainly still in the tournament that is film making.

And our friend Deb still knows how to throw a party. We arrived at her Williamsburg loft post dinner, pre midnight (or, as they say in these parts, the ball dropping) for copious amounts of champagne, cold pizza and yours truly hastily putting together the 'bringing in '06 mix' on her itunes. If I knew how to link to it, I would paste it here but don't worry, it didn't include Auld Lang's Syne. You could say it was never brought to mind...