"Harry Block," whose name is certainly fitting, embodies a writer who’s clearly lost his creative spark and struggles with an unfortunate physical ailment. His problems are compounded by anxiety surrounding an award from his former college—a place he was dismissed from—and a chaotic personal life that makes the relationships of King Henry VIII seem tame compared to "Bertie and Elizabeth." Naturally, "Harry" is in therapy (with Robert Harper), and as the day of his ceremony approaches, he comes to believe that his messy existence stems from an inability to commit. He enjoys women and sex, but views relationships more like transactions—something you acquire or return, much like a purchase from Walmart. This forms the foundation for a story about a deeply flawed person whose twenty-four hours are depicted through a series of scenes reminiscent of a television sitcom. I’ve never particularly liked Woody Allen's work, and this film didn't alter that feeling. While his writing can be rapid-fire and occasionally insightful, his humor feels too coarse for my taste. There isn’t much subtlety to it; the initial moments established what I felt became increasingly childish and foreseeable. It's a polished kind of verbal slapstick. Vulgarity can be enjoyable, but not when it’s paired with an attempt at intellectualism regarding human behavior—a concept that feels increasingly forced to serve the director’s intended narrative. Are those abrupt cuts simply meant to distract us from the weakening character development and growing melodrama? He doesn't provide his characters with anything I could connect with emotionally, and although I thought Judy Davis and a group of dependable actors did what they could to support it all, ultimately the title is fitting—it just drags on longer than necessary.

Source on TMDB