
L.A. Story is Steve Martin's Woody Allen film. As Allen has highlighted his hometown of New York City in so many movies, so Martin does with his hometown of Los Angeles here. Although it obviously falls into the romantic comedy genre, it's in the comedy where the movie really shines. The love story is sweet enough, but not one for the ages.
The real love story in the script is between Martin and the City of Angels. Although he spends much of the film gently poking fun at the shallow nature of the culture and people of Los Angeles, it's obvious that he's doing it from affection rather than malice. And even though some of the cultural references are a bit dated (you don't hear about shootings on the freeways much anymore and complicated coffee orders are commonplace in Starbucks across the country), most of the L.A. stereotypes hold up pretty well with the heavy traffic and constant driving playing a big part as satirized by Martin driving to his best friend's house even though she only lives two doors down.
The other love story isn't helped by the fact that Martin cast his then wife Victoria Tennant as the female lead. She's sweet enough, but lacks movie star charisma. Although in some ways that is the point of the story because she stands out as being un-Californian, she still just doesn't bring enough to the role.
Martin plays Harris K. Telemacher a weatherman in Los Angeles where it's almost always 72 degrees and sunny. The movie opens with this narration, which sums up life in the the city as depicted here, quite nicely, “I live in L.A. And I've had seven heart attacks, all imagined. I was deeply unhappy but I didn't know it, cause I was happy all the time.” It's not just his useless job, for which he's overqualified, that's getting him down but also his shallow, high-maintenance girlfriend. When English woman Sara enters his life, he sees a chance for something different, but it's up to the city of Los Angeles, which is personified by an anthropomorphic traffic sign, to give him the nudge he needs to change his life.
Some of the humor is quite silly and surreal, such as the shooting on the freeway, while other jokes are more literate, referencing Fellini and Shakespeare, who surprisingly turns out to be buried in L.A., presumably where he wrote, Hamlet Part 8: The Revenge. While Martin saves the best lines for himself, Sarah Jessica Parker is a scene stealer as a sexy young valley-girl named SanDeE*, spelled just like that. With no exaggeration, it's one of the finest performances of her career.
Although the central love story isn't the strongest aspect of the plot, it does have some nice moments, particularly the night Harris and Sara first sleep together, which, accompanied by an Enya song, manages to be both lush and romantic.
Like Woody Allen, Martin makes an unlikely romantic lead, but there's no doubt of his comic abilities. He wrote a very funny script and he delivers a nice performance in it. Overall this is probably my favorite of all his movies.


















