It doesn’t help that he’s wildly, famously inconsistent: since the excellent early to mid 90s run that included Husbands and Wives, Bullets Over Broadway and Mighty Aphrodite, even the most fervent fan would be hard pushed to argue that his recent filmography has been defined by a long periods of mediocrity. It seems that, like the oft-repeated maxim about Star Trek movies, every Allen film that hints at a long-awaited return to form (Match Point, Vicky Christina Barcelona) is inevitably followed by a poorly-received, momentum-killing dud (Scoop, Whatever Works). So it proved once more recently after the whimsical and charming Midnight in Paris – a major critical success and Allen’s biggest box-office hit ever – was succeeded by the equally whimsical but decidedly less successful To Rome With Love. Taking his staggeringly prolific workrate into account, what this effectively means is that Woody makes a heralded return to form roughly once every six months, like some sort of migratory bird returning to the warmer climes of critical approval once the atmosphere gets too frosty. Blue Jasmine has even more weight on its shoulders than the usual Allen film – it marks only the second time he has made a film in America since 2005 (which doesn’t sound like a long time, before you consider that he has made ten films in that time), after the aforementioned middling successes of his European productions. And even for a Woody film, Blue Jasmine has a fantastic cast, anchored by a lead performance from Cate Blanchett that has been the subject of awards chatter since its premiere. So is Blue Jasmine a revitalising Wrath of Khan, or a mind-numbing Search for Spock? The answer is probably the former, but unfortunately not without some reservations. Lost in Ginger’s lower-middle-class world and homesick for her own, Jasmine half-heartedly attempts to make a new life for herself in San Francisco and embrace a ‘normal’ life: however, the call of a return to her former life as unthinkably wealthy domestic goddess proves strong enough to pull her and those around her into some dark and uncomfortable places. There are two things that will define your enjoyment of Blue Jasmine: how much you buy into Cate Blanchett’s performance, and how much you buy into the world Woody creates with his script. I personally feel that both suffer from the same issue: technically brilliant, but ultimately lacking in soul. Blanchett on screen is physically awesome, her supernatural beauty providing an ironic visual counterpoint to her character’s generally poisonous demeanour. On top of her natural screen power, she piles on a number of nervous tics and mannerisms that are technically impressive but never add up into an onscreen persona that is entirely credible: there’s no doubt she is utterly compelling whenever she’s on screen, but the performance nevertheless feels a little too theatrical and cartoonish – particularly when mental health issues begin to be addressed – for Jasmine ever to threaten to become someone you might be able to envisage existing in real life. It’s a performance to admire, but not one I could ever bring myself to love. This is a problem with most of the characters in the film: they feel more like pawns on Woody’s chess board than they do rounded people, and while broad archetypes aren’t necessarily a bad thing, if you want to make profound points about the relationships, privilege and delusion – as appears to be his intention – there needs to be moments of recognition and empathy in there to do the dramatic heavy lifting. The dialogue occasionally feels forced and stilted, and there’s something uncomfortably reductive about the way Woody represents class, with the ‘working-class’ characters given a salt-of-the-eart gloss that inevitably feels patronising when taking into account Allen’s usual predilection for upscale New York comedies-of-manners. Certainly, the flashback scenes set largely within Jasmine’s NY mansion feel more assured than the ones in workaday San Francisco. Blue Jasmine has been compared to other seminal Serious Woody films like Crimes and Misdemeanours and Husbands and Wives, but a more apposite comparison is probably Jason Reitman’s Young Adult. Like Blue Jasmine, it features a stupendously beautiful woman playing a grotesque, deluded monster, but I can’t help but feel Young Adult is much more successful in what it is trying to say about that particular side of human nature than Blue Jasmine, and it’s largely down to how painfully credible the characters are (and believe me, it feels very weird to accuse a Woody Allen script of being mannered while praising Diablo Cody script for doing the opposite). Here, they’re often just painful. Also for all its flaws Allen’s script is still brilliantly structured, weaving between comedy and drama with ease and never playing out quite like how you think it will. The flashback structure threatens to become tiresome but never does, with Allen knowing exactly when to reveal information about his characters for maximum impact. And this being a Woody Allen movie, it still features more genuine insight into adult love and relationships than 99% of films released this year. It’s just such a shame that he couldn’t inject either a bit more darkness, or a lot more heart into his story. It feels like Woody was happy to remain distant from these characters, and was unwilling to either embrace them or truly go down into the depths with them when the darkness begins to unfold. A pity, because while this is an engaging, entertaining film, if he had nailed the characterisation I’ve no doubt this is a film that would stand along his very best work. Ah well. Another one will be along in a few months. Perhaps that’ll be a return to form. Follow our Twitter feed for faster news and bad jokes right here. And be our Facebook chum here.