Directed by Martin Ritt
The early ‘50s were a tough time in Hollywood. The smallest left-wing sympathy and you could wind up being blacklisted so you couldn’t work. This happened to hundreds of good, creative people, and a handful of them worked on this film. Woody Allen is a small time bookie that helps his blacklisted writer friend by agreeing to take writing credit (and a cut of the earnings), passing as an up-and-coming TV writer. Not surprisingly there is a fair bit of bitterness here and it has one of the best closing lines ever. Try this in court: “I don’t recognise the right of this committee to ask me these questions and furthermore… you can all go fuck yourselves.”