Allen Masterminds a Comedic Gem in ‘Small Time Crooks’

Woody Allen’s “Small Time Crooks” is such delicious, giddy fun that it matters little that in its final moments it goes flat. Somehow in the staging, timing and perhaps the writing of the ending Allen has allowed the film’s energy to slip through his fingers. It’s no big deal in relation to the film as a whole, and if anything, it suggests how like quicksilver Allen’s art is and what a tricky business it is to sustain all that lovely fizz.

Allen casts himself as Ray, an ex-con dishwasher married to Frenchy (Tracey Ullman), a former topless dancer he met when he was a minor player in the numbers racket. A botched attempt to hold up a bank landed him a two-year stretch in prison. However, his desire to whisk off the souring Frenchy to a life of Miami luxury and his delusions of criminal genius convince him that he and his pals can get it right this time. All they have to do is rent an empty store near a bank and start tunneling their way into it.

While Ray and his cohorts (Michael Rapaport, Tony Darrow and Jon Lovitz) dig away in the basement, Frenchy will serve as a front, baking and selling cookies in the store. As the guys dig away--in the wrong direction yet--Frenchy’s cookies start bringing home the bacon. Soon she has to hire her cousin May (Elaine May) to help out.

In short order Frenchy’s cookies lead to an immense factory, a gaudy Park Avenue penthouse--and Frenchy’s ambitious social aspirations. Since she knows little about being classy, she turns to Hugh Grant’s suave but impecunious art dealer for guidance. More “Born Yesterday’s” Billie Dawn than “Pygmalion’s” Eliza Doolittle, Frenchy has natural intelligence and craves an education and sophistication. She and Ray are at heart innocents, and as they start drifting apart, they leave themselves open for big trouble.

The protean Ullman makes Frenchy tremendously endearing, a tough talker with a loving heart and a forthright capacity for taking responsibility for her actions. Ray, a beer-and-TV guy, is similarly able at last to admit that he’s not remotely as smart as he thinks he is; if he and Frenchy can get back together they could survive just about anything. Allen and Ullman have teamed twice previously, and they play off each other as easily as a George Burns and that other Allen, Gracie. Amazingly, Elaine May has never worked with Allen before, and she is ever the delight: You can never predict whether her May is going to be spacey or shrewd--or both.

Grant, the master at polished self-deprecation, is the perfect guide to acclimate Frenchy to high society and high culture. Frenchy is certainly smitten with Grant’s charming David, but he’s too wise to undercut his status as an arbiter of taste by playing the gigolo as well. Allen as usual fills the screen with wonderful people, among them Elaine Stritch as an elegant Manhattan grande dame. (Just imagine, Allen, May and Stritch on the screen at the same time.)

“Small Time Crooks” is handsome as all Allen films are, and it proceeds with the brisk, sophisticated air of throwaway confidence and lack of pretense that we expect from the contemporary master of grown-up comedy. That minor glitch at the picture’s end can serve as a reminder: The quality of effortlessness that makes Allen movies so tonic most surely must be the result of much hard work.

* MPAA rating: PG, for language. Times guidelines: Language is fairly mild, so suitable for all ages.

‘Small Time Crooks’

Woody Allen: Ray

Tracey Ullman: Frenchy

Hugh Grant: David

Elaine May: May

A DreamWorks release of a Sweetland Films presentation. Writer-director Woody Allen. Producer Jean Doumanian. Executive producer J.E. Beaucaire. Cinematographer Zhao Fei. Editor Alisa Lepselter. Costumes Suzanne McCabe. Production designer Santo Loquasto. Art director Tom Warren. Set decorator Jessica Lanier. Running time: 1 hour, 31 minutes.

In general release.