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Many accomplished female actors have starred in rom-coms. Ordinarily, if they want to win an Oscar, they need to shift for weightier characters. The late Diane Keaton, who died unexpectedly, followed a reverse trajectory and pulled it off with effortless grace. Her first major film role was in the classic The Godfather, as dramatic an cinematic masterpiece as has ever been made. However, concurrently, she returned to the role of Linda, the object of a nerdy hero’s affection, in a film adaptation of the theatrical production Play It Again, Sam. She regularly juggled intense dramas with romantic comedies across the seventies, and the lighter fare that earned her the Academy Award for outstanding actress, altering the genre for good.

The Oscar-Winning Role

The Oscar statuette was for Annie Hall, co-written and directed by Allen, with Keaton as the title character, one half of the movie’s fractured love story. Allen and Keaton dated previously prior to filming, and stayed good friends for the rest of her life; in interviews, Keaton had characterized Annie as an idealized version of herself, as seen by Allen. One could assume, then, to think her acting involves doing what came naturally. However, her versatility in her performances, from her Godfather role and her funny films with Allen and inside Annie Hall alone, to dismiss her facility with funny romances as just being charming – though she was, of course, incredibly appealing.

Evolving Comedy

The film famously functioned as the director’s evolution between slapstick-oriented movies and a more naturalistic style. Consequently, it has plenty of gags, dreamlike moments, and a improvised tapestry of a love story recollection mixed with painful truths into a doomed romantic relationship. In a similar vein, Diane, oversaw a change in U.S. romantic comedies, embodying neither the screwball-era speed-talker or the sexy scatterbrain common in the fifties. Rather, she fuses and merges aspects of both to forge a fresh approach that seems current today, cutting her confidence short with uncertain moments.

Observe, for instance the scene where Annie and Alvy Singer first connect after a match of tennis, awkwardly exchanging proposals for a car trip (although only one of them has a car). The banter is fast, but veers erratically, with Keaton maneuvering through her unease before concluding with of that famous phrase, a expression that captures her anxious charm. The story embodies that feeling in the next scene, as she has indifferent conversation while navigating wildly through New York roads. Subsequently, she finds her footing singing It Had to Be You in a nightclub.

Complexity and Freedom

These aren’t examples of Annie being unstable. Across the film, there’s a complexity to her gentle eccentricity – her hippie-hangover willingness to sample narcotics, her fear of crustaceans and arachnids, her resistance to control by the protagonist’s tries to turn her into someone outwardly grave (which for him means preoccupied with mortality). Initially, Annie might seem like an strange pick to earn an award; she plays the female lead in a movie seen from a man’s point of view, and the protagonists’ trajectory doesn’t lead to either changing enough to suit each other. But Annie evolves, in manners visible and hidden. She just doesn’t become a more suitable partner for Alvy. Plenty of later rom-coms took the obvious elements – neurotic hang-ups, eccentric styles – failing to replicate Annie’s ultimate independence.

Enduring Impact and Mature Parts

Maybe Keaton was wary of that trend. After her working relationship with Allen concluded, she stepped away from romantic comedies; Baby Boom is essentially her sole entry from the whole decade of the eighties. But during her absence, Annie Hall, the role possibly more than the unconventional story, emerged as a template for the style. Meg Ryan, for example, credits much of her love story success to Keaton’s ability to play smart and flibbertigibbet simultaneously. This cast Keaton as like a timeless love story icon even as she was actually playing more wives (be it joyfully, as in Father of the Bride, or more strained, as in that ensemble comedy) and/or moms (see that Christmas movie or that mother-daughter story) than single gals falling in love. Even in her reunion with the director, they’re a seasoned spouses drawn nearer by humorous investigations – and she fits the character smoothly, wonderfully.

However, Keaton also enjoyed another major rom-com hit in 2003 with Something’s Gotta Give, as a playwright in love with a younger-dating cad (actor Jack Nicholson, naturally). The outcome? Her final Oscar nomination, and a complete niche of romantic tales where senior actresses (typically acted by celebrities, but still!) reassert their romantic and/or social agency. A key element her loss is so startling is that Keaton was still making those movies just last year, a frequent big-screen star. Now fans are turning from taking that presence for granted to realizing what an enormous influence she was on the romantic comedy as we know it. Should it be difficult to recall present-day versions of such actresses who similarly follow in Keaton’s footsteps, the reason may be it’s rare for a performer of her talent to dedicate herself to a style that’s mostly been streaming fodder for a long time.

An Exceptional Impact

Consider: there are a dozen performing women who received at least four best actress nominations. It’s unusual for a single part to originate in a romantic comedy, let alone half of them, as was the example of Keaton. {Because her