Iâve never seen a Woody Allen film.
âAnnie Hall,â âManhattan,â âMidnight in Paris,â âVicky Cristina Barcelonaâ â all impeccable films, Iâm sure, but none of them have come into my consciousness as a consumer of art.
Perhaps thatâs why itâs so easy for me to write this. Perhaps Allenâs work is so compelling that if I had seen it, I wouldnât be so upset that he, a man who sexually assaulted his adopted daughter when she was seven years old, has been nominated for an Academy Award.
But I doubt it.
Nicholas Kristof of the New York Times published an open letter from Dylan Farrow on his blog. In the piece, Farrow described the specifics of how Allen violated her as a child, and the harrowing effects that violation has had on her as an adult.
Surely Farrowâs description of the time Allen took her into an attic and assaulted her, or the numerous other specific memories Farrow relates â memories too specific for anyone, in my opinion, to fabricate â would cause the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences to reconsider Allenâs nomination for his latest film âBlue Jasmine.â Or maybe the Hollywood Foreign press would take away the lifetime achievement award with which he was honored last month.
But neither of those things happened. Instead, Stephen King tweeted that he thought Farrowâs piece contained âan element of palpable bitchery.â Kristof himself prefaced the letter by saying Allen was never prosecuted for the crimse and that he âdeserves the presumption of innocence.â For speaking out and telling her painful story, Farrow got gaslighted by the very man who chose to host her piece and called a bitch by one of the most notable authors of the 20th century.
The problem of Woody Allenâs critical acclaim is part of a larger problem of a lack of consideration for the privileged creatorâs subject position when  talking about art.
To me, the actions of the artist outside the context of their work paint a picture of whatâs in their head and heart, and that affects the value of what goes on the screen, canvas or page.
It isnât that Allenâs films are valueless; they are more than likely worthy of some critical attention. But critical attention should bring every relevant detail into public discourse about the film and its filmmaker.
In all the rundowns of Oscar nominations Iâve seen, no one has given even a brief mention of Allenâs abusive past. Itâs as if it never happened.
When we talk about Woody Allen, or any artist who has unrepentantly hurt someone, we must consider the effects our public conversations have on his victims. If we ignore the fact of Dylan Farrowâs abuse, what does that tell her?
To me, itâs code for, âWe donât care. Youâre probably making things up. Forget about it and let this man make his acceptance speeches in peace.â
I donât think these are good messages to be coded in our public discourse and consiousness. It is indeed rape culture that leads us to say these things, but we must remember that we are the ones who shape are culture. We have control over how we treat Dylan Farrow. And in my mind, we should treat her â and every other survivor of abuse â with humanity, dignity and trust.
I personally hope âBlue Jasmineâ doesnât win any awards at the Oscars, because the idea of Woody Allen being accoladed and propped up financially and culturally despite what he did repulses me. If you enjoyed the film, then I hope you can agree with me that if Allen does indeed win, we canât sweep his past under the rug. When we award the abuser, we tacitly award the abuse, and no abuse deserves any sort of award.