Anthony Lane in The New Yorker on "Cafe Society" - the latest Woody Allen:

'None of this, you could claim, is remotely credible, but “Café Society” does not seem like a confection or a skit. There is a gravity to it, and a tug of sadness, that cannot be accounted for by the story. In “Crimes and Misdemeanors” (1989), ostensibly a far more serious film, Allen says, of show business, that “it’s worse than dog-eat-dog. It’s dog-doesn’t-return-other-dog’s-phone-calls.” In “Café Society,” the hero says, of Hollywood, “It’s really a kind of boring, nasty, dog-eat-dog industry.” No kicker, no laugh. The performances, too, shy away from the nutty and the broad, and Carell, a master of the brave face, does a fine job of suggesting the strain behind Uncle Phil’s bonhomie. Better still is Stewart, who, despite the girlish touches in her outfits (headband, white ankle socks with strappy sandals), reveals a woman veiled in ruefulness, and her final moments, in which Vonnie muses on paths both taken and spurned, are a lovely act of suspension, done without a word.'

Read the review here.

My godson was complaining about "Café Society" in the movie theater, but it was not that bad. There's not much happiness to find on this earth, but there's longing and beauty, at least for the privileged few, privileged enough to see and recognize beauty or privileged enough to be beautiful. And the longing of course can only survive when it's not fulfilled.
The rest is a comedy of errors.
My godson was in a bad mood for the rest of the evening, perhaps he still believes in true and lasting love.