An update on Tennessee Williams’ A Streetcare Named Desire, it isn’t essential to have seen that work on stage to enjoy this pithy homage from Woody Allen. However, revisiting the iconic 1951 film version starring Marlon Brando, Vivien Leigh and Kim Hunter could very well make Blue Jasmine even funnier. This is because Allen treats the audience as equals to the tragic in-joke of familial impact and the damage left in its wake.

Woody Allen once joked that he would prefer to achieve immortality not through his work but through not dying. He is now 77 and the inevitable is a lot nearer than it was when he first realised, aged five, that this doesn’t go on forever. Fear of death has powered the furious productivity that in the early days yielded jokes by the yard, then the films appearing year upon year. In the interim the public image has calcified: the master comedian who would prefer to be a tragedian, the world-class worrier, the clarinet-tooting workaholic. But is that the real Woody Allen?

LOCO London’s "four days of the world’s best funny films" is one of those about-time ideas, because London needs a great comedy film festival. As a warmup, this Saturday 1 December at 6pm, LOCO London and the Hackney Picturehouse are holding Woodystock, celebrating Woody Allen’s birthday with a big screen blow-out of Manhattan – one of Woody’s best.

Woody Allen plays tour operator (yet again) in the excruciating To Rome With Love, and the result is not a pretty sight. Oh, sure, the Eternal City looks great, in the manner of one of those vibrant, come-hither videos that one might expect at a travel convention. But continuing his pan-European jaunt that has taken in London (three times over), Barcelona, Paris, and now Rome, Allen hits close to rock bottom in a portmanteau effort in which the parts, not to mention the whole, don’t begin to add up.

Making fictional movies about sport is the devil's own job. They generally don't appeal to non fans while those who follow the game in question spend their time mocking the action scenes as actors pretending to be sportsmen and women usually fail to convince - as is the case with the stars of Wimbledon (2004) and Match Point (2005).

The first ever work of literary theory was Aristotle's Poetics, which was written on two separate papyruses - one on tragedy and the other on comedy. However, at some point the second was lost and along with it our most ancient understanding of the comedy genre.

They have been racking up the Oscar nominations since 1978, and this year they were back. Woody Allen was nominated twice over for Midnight in Paris, his biggest commercial hit ever, and won for Best Original Screenplay, while Meryl Streep was a surer bet for victory in The Iron Lady than even Mrs Thatcher in the 1983 general election.

Waiting for Woody Allen to turn in a half-decent movie is bit like inching through a recession. The green shoots of recovery are constantly hoped for, but slow to show. Now and then the new one will come along and seem marginally less dire, but prove all too chimerical. How many of the films in the last decade does anyone remember for the right reasons? And don't say Vicky Cristina Barcelona with its atrocious voiceover and pervy lesbo snog.

As he did with his Spanish idyll Vicky Cristina Barcelona, Woody Allen supplies his fourth London film, You Will Meet a Tall Dark Stranger, with an anonymous male American narrator whose air of irritatingly breezy omniscience distances us from the proceedings, limiting the empathy we may feel for the four protagonists. This is a shame, because two of them - tetchy, unhappily married Sally (Naomi Watts) and her divorced, needy mother Helena (Gemma Jones) - are, for all their faults, characters we hope to see prosper.

Intriguing news from Yorkshire. Woody Allen’s new film has been booked to open the Bradford International Film Festival. When Allen’s love affair with Manhattan came to an end, he sought creative reinvention by defecting to Europe. Match Point was no one’s idea of an Allen classic and even Vicky Cristina Barcelona, widely hailed as a return to form, was (for this viewer) far too heavily reliant on voiceover, even if it did earn an Academy Award for Penelope Cruz as a sultry Hispanic hysteric.