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Plenty of talented female actors have performed in rom-coms. Ordinarily, if they want to receive Oscar recognition, they need to shift for dramatic parts. Diane Keaton, who passed away recently, took an opposite path and pulled it off with effortless grace. Her initial breakout part was in The Godfather, about as serious an cinematic masterpiece as ever produced. But that same year, she revisited the character of Linda, the love interest of a geeky protagonist, in a movie version of the theatrical production Play It Again, Sam. She continued to alternate intense dramas with romantic comedies across the seventies, and the comedies that earned her the Academy Award for leading actress, changing the genre permanently.

The Oscar-Winning Role

That Oscar was for Annie Hall, written and directed by Woody Allen, with Keaton in the lead role, a component of the couple’s failed relationship. Allen and Keaton had been in a romantic relationship prior to filming, and stayed good friends for the rest of her life; during conversations, Keaton had characterized Annie as a dream iteration of herself, as seen by Allen. One could assume, then, to think her acting involves doing what came naturally. Yet her breadth in her acting, contrasting her dramatic part and her comedic collaborations and throughout that very movie, to discount her skill with romantic comedy as merely exuding appeal – though she was, of course, highly charismatic.

A Transition in Style

The film famously functioned as Allen’s transition between slapstick-oriented movies and a authentic manner. Consequently, it has plenty of gags, fantasy sequences, and a freewheeling patchwork of a love story recollection mixed with painful truths into a ill-fated romance. Keaton, similarly, led an evolution in U.S. romantic comedies, playing neither the screwball-era speed-talker or the sexy scatterbrain common in the fifties. Rather, she mixes and matches traits from both to forge a fresh approach that feels modern even now, interrupting her own boldness with uncertain moments.

Observe, for instance the sequence with the couple first connect after a match of tennis, stumbling through reciprocal offers for a ride (despite the fact that only one of them has a car). The dialogue is quick, but zig-zags around unpredictably, with Keaton soloing around her own discomfort before concluding with of her whimsical line, a expression that captures her nervous whimsy. The film manifests that sensibility in the next scene, as she has indifferent conversation while driving recklessly through Manhattan streets. Later, she centers herself delivering the tune in a club venue.

Complexity and Freedom

These aren’t examples of Annie acting erratic. During the entire story, there’s a dimensionality to her playful craziness – her hippie-hangover willingness to experiment with substances, her anxiety about sea creatures and insects, her unwillingness to be shaped by Alvy’s efforts to shape her into someone outwardly grave (in his view, that signifies focused on dying). At first, Annie might seem like an strange pick to receive acclaim; she plays the female lead in a movie seen from a man’s point of view, and the central couple’s arc fails to result in adequate growth accommodate the other. But Annie evolves, in aspects clear and mysterious. She just doesn’t become a more suitable partner for Alvy. Many subsequent love stories took the obvious elements – nervous habits, quirky fashions – failing to replicate her core self-reliance.

Enduring Impact and Mature Parts

Maybe Keaton was wary of that pattern. Post her professional partnership with Allen ended, she stepped away from romantic comedies; the film Baby Boom is really her only one from the entirety of the 1980s. Yet while she was gone, the character Annie, the persona even more than the free-form film, emerged as a template for the category. Actress Meg Ryan, for example, owes most of her rom-com career to Keaton’s skill to portray intelligence and flightiness together. This made Keaton seem like a permanent rom-com queen despite her real roles being married characters (be it joyfully, as in that family comedy, or more strained, as in The First Wives Club) and/or parental figures (see the holiday film The Family Stone or Because I Said So) than unattached women finding romance. Even during her return with Allen, they’re a long-married couple drawn nearer by funny detective work – and she slips into that role smoothly, wonderfully.

Yet Diane experienced another major rom-com hit in two thousand three with Something’s Gotta Give, as a playwright in love with a younger-dating cad (the star Jack Nicholson, naturally). The result? Her last Academy Award nod, and a complete niche of romantic tales where mature females (usually played by movie stars, but still!) reassert their romantic and/or social agency. Part of the reason her loss is so startling is that she kept producing these stories as recently as last year, a constant multiplex presence. Now fans are turning from assuming her availability to understanding the huge impact she was on the funny romance as it exists today. Should it be difficult to recall modern equivalents of such actresses who walk in her shoes, that’s probably because it’s uncommon for an actor of her caliber to commit herself to a style that’s frequently reduced to digital fare for a long time.

A Unique Legacy

Consider: there are 10 living female actors who earned several Oscar nods. It’s rare for one of those roles to begin in a rom-com, not to mention multiple, as was the case for Keaton. {Because her