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Numerous great actresses have starred in rom-coms. Typically, if they want to win an Oscar, they must turn for dramatic parts. Diane Keaton, who died unexpectedly, charted a different course and made it look disarmingly natural. Her debut significant performance was in The Godfather, about as serious an cinematic masterpiece as ever produced. But that same year, she returned to the role of the character Linda, the love interest of a geeky protagonist, in a cinematic take of Broadway’s Play It Again, Sam. She persistently switched serious dramas with lighthearted romances throughout the ’70s, and it was the latter that won her an Oscar for leading actress, altering the genre for good.

The Academy Award Part

The award was for the film Annie Hall, written and directed by Woody Allen, with Keaton portraying Annie, one half of the movie’s fractured love story. The director and star dated previously before making the film, and continued as pals until her passing; when speaking publicly, Keaton portrayed Annie as a perfect image of herself, through Allen’s eyes. It would be easy, then, to believe her portrayal involves doing what came naturally. Yet her breadth in her performances, from her Godfather role and her funny films with Allen and inside Annie Hall alone, to dismiss her facility with rom-coms as just being charming – though she was, of course, highly charismatic.

Evolving Comedy

Annie Hall famously served as Allen’s transition between more gag-based broad comedies and a realistic approach. Consequently, it has plenty of gags, fantasy sequences, and a loose collage of a romantic memory in between some stinging insights into a fated love affair. Keaton, similarly, led an evolution in American rom-coms, portraying neither the rapid-fire comic lead or the sexy scatterbrain famous from the ’50s. Instead, she mixes and matches traits from both to create something entirely new that still reads as oddly contemporary, halting her assertiveness with uncertain moments.

Watch, for example the sequence with the couple first connect after a match of tennis, stumbling through reciprocal offers for a ride (although only a single one owns a vehicle). The dialogue is quick, but meanders unexpectedly, with Keaton maneuvering through her own discomfort before winding up in a cul-de-sac of that famous phrase, a expression that captures her quirky unease. The film manifests that tone in the next scene, as she makes blasé small talk while operating the car carelessly through New York roads. Later, she composes herself singing It Had to Be You in a club venue.

Complexity and Freedom

These aren’t examples of the character’s unpredictability. During the entire story, there’s a depth to her gentle eccentricity – her lingering counterculture curiosity to experiment with substances, her fear of crustaceans and arachnids, her refusal to be manipulated by the protagonist’s tries to shape her into someone outwardly grave (for him, that implies death-obsessed). In the beginning, Annie might seem like an unusual choice to receive acclaim; she is the love interest in a movie seen from a man’s point of view, and the central couple’s arc doesn’t bend toward sufficient transformation accommodate the other. However, she transforms, in manners visible and hidden. She simply fails to turn into a better match for her co-star. Many subsequent love stories stole the superficial stuff – neurotic hang-ups, quirky fashions – failing to replicate her final autonomy.

Ongoing Legacy and Senior Characters

Possibly she grew hesitant of that trend. Following her collaboration with Allen concluded, she paused her lighthearted roles; her movie Baby Boom is practically her single outing from the complete 1980s period. Yet while she was gone, the film Annie Hall, the role possibly more than the loosely structured movie, became a model for the genre. Star Meg Ryan, for example, is largely indebted for her comedic roles to Keaton’s skill to portray intelligence and flightiness together. This cast Keaton as like a everlasting comedy royalty even as she was actually playing more wives (whether happily, as in Father of the Bride, or not as much, as in The First Wives Club) and/or mothers (see that Christmas movie or Because I Said So) than unattached women finding romance. Even in her reunion with Allen, they’re a seasoned spouses brought closer together by comic amateur sleuthing – and she slips into that role effortlessly, gracefully.

However, Keaton also enjoyed a further love story triumph in two thousand three with the film Something’s Gotta Give, as a dramatist in love with a younger-dating cad (actor Jack Nicholson, naturally). What happened? Her final Oscar nomination, and a whole subgenre of romantic tales where older women (often portrayed by famous faces, but still!) reassert their romantic and/or social agency. A key element her death seems like such a shock is that Diane continued creating those movies up until recently, a constant multiplex presence. Today viewers must shift from expecting her roles to realizing what an enormous influence she was on the funny romance as we know it. If it’s harder to think of modern equivalents of those earlier stars who emulate her path, that’s probably because it’s seldom for a star of her talent to devote herself to a style that’s frequently reduced to digital fare for a while now.

A Special Contribution

Reflect: there are 10 living female actors who earned several Oscar nods. It’s unusual for a single part to originate in a romantic comedy, especially not several, as was the case for Keaton. {Because her