Who could be louder than claiming the marriage crisis is the hottest topic today — in a world where marriage is often treated as a passing phase. The idea of a life-long partnership feels almost antique now. Sociologists long ago noted a trend toward serial monogamy, a new normal people treat as unremarkable. And yes, there is room for humor here. Woody Allen’s The Great Irony has been in theaters for a week, a film that mirrors the society we live in.
The American director seems to be aiming to provoke. Maybe audiences worldwide, including Russians, are particularly skeptical. He bases his new story on Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina, and the question is how he makes it land today.
Allen takes a timeless drama — a canvas of intense human feeling that pulls readers through the depths of longing and longing’s pains — and reshapes it into a comedy. Perhaps the point is that contemporary heroes are either pressed by life or have always carried that weight, a point of view that resonates with Lev Tolstoy’s introspection.
Or perhaps the aim is to needle the average viewer. One internet reviewer writes, at age forty, I finally read Anna Karenina and felt it was a waste, imagining the heroine might have been better off if she killed herself from the start. If Allen is poking at such readers, it’s a pretty provocative joke. After all, what are the odds of long-married women and men who’ve stayed with one partner for years facing such judgments from others?
Statistics stubbornly persist: there are many divorced and single people, including those who have been divorced more than once. If we step beyond civil records, many modern women experience several changes in partners over a lifetime, and men even more frequently. Yet the 21st century keeps moving forward, and in many places, social norms feel increasingly permissive. A shift from one relationship to another has become a routine aspect of life for some.
The idea of closing one chapter called family and opening another is now seen as common. Moving from one relationship to the next is no longer framed as a challenge or an adventure so much as a everyday choice people make without drama.
Allen’s characters, a divorced travel writer and his remarried former classmate, step into the story to discuss the rhythm of marriage. Yet the central theme is often betrayal, not catastrophe; they navigate their affections without falling into abyss. Anna Karenina herself wrestles with sleepless nights, a blizzard outside the station, haunted dreams, or bursts of emotion directed at husband and lover in turn, while sometimes quieting feelings with morphine. The fate of that tale looms as a counterpoint to the modern scenes.
In today’s version, the path for lovers seems smoother, with meetings during lunch breaks and a quick stride through a well-appointed home. The hero’s lover encounters trouble, but not from guilt alone. The audience enjoys a touch of detective flavor added to melodrama, an element that makes the storyline feel more engaging rather than merely sentimental.
If the intrigue that elevates art is stripped away, the film reveals two restless people who vent about failed marriages. One is a creative soul who begins an affair, the other is a lover of painting and literature who first courts a destructive romance with a musician then recovers with a financially secure partner. The narrative echoes familiar stories people hear in their own kitchens, a reminder that mistakes in choosing partners are not rare.
Yet errors can be part of life because life itself allows it. The idea of serial monogamy is celebrated, even as old theories suggested love lasted only a few years. The tale suggests that lasting happiness still depends on effort, even as some people worry that genuine connection is hard to sustain as options proliferate and temptations grow.
We once believed in a natural arc: love fades, then a stable marriage endures for years. Exceptions confirm the pattern, but the core question remains: how do we live with this reality? At first, freedom feels exhilarating — a chance to explore, to discover new experiences. Later, the freedom can become heavy, a burden of endless choices.
People realize that nothing is handed to them on a silver platter. They must take steps to move forward: explore new venues, join dating activities, or seek fresh social circles. The process can feel tedious, with countless options and no clear alternative to settle on.
What if fate brings a sudden encounter? In a marketplace-like mood, a chance meeting can feel like a reckless impulse, a seduction of new possessions or new relationships that seem accessible for a moment. Such moments can end in heartbreak or in a decision to walk away from a seemingly perfect chance at happiness.
There is no effortless gift. Mutual joy in relationships comes from effort, attentive care, and shared interest, even in casual friendships or casual intimacy. Nothing unfolds without engagement, without ongoing attention.
Are we back to work on relationships after a long shift, after a breach of trust, or after several different lives have unfolded? What is the point? The pace of fatigue can outstrip growth, and people may feel worn down before anything truly grows. Perhaps tiredness is a human condition from the start, and the crisis in family life has always existed, even when cloaked by religion, ethics, and economic need. Parallel paths rarely meet, and crossing lines often lead to divergent routes, a warning Tolstoy echoed in his own era. Anna Karenina remains a touchstone, and the sentiment that everything ends up decaying persists.
Observations are common, and people notice. Yet the wheel keeps turning, a paradox where fatigue and longing coexist with a stubborn hope for luck and renewal. That stubborn hope suggests the world is not utterly hopeless after all.
The author offers a personal perspective that may differ from editorial positions, but it frames a conversation about how people approach love, commitment, and modern life, piece by piece.