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Plenty of accomplished actresses have appeared in rom-coms. Ordinarily, should they desire to win an Oscar, they have to reach for more serious roles. The late Diane Keaton, whose recent passing occurred, took an opposite path and made it look seamless ease. Her first major film role was in The Godfather, about as serious an cinematic masterpiece as ever created. But that same year, she reprised the part of Linda, the love interest of a geeky protagonist, in a film adaptation of the theatrical production Play It Again, Sam. She persistently switched intense dramas with romantic comedies throughout the ’70s, and the comedies that secured her the Oscar for best actress, transforming the category forever.

The Oscar-Winning Role

That Oscar was for Annie Hall, co-written and directed by Allen, with Keaton in the lead role, one half of the movie’s fractured love story. The director and star were once romantically involved before production, and stayed good friends for the rest of her life; when speaking publicly, Keaton portrayed Annie as an idealized version of herself, as seen by Allen. One could assume, then, to believe her portrayal involves doing what came naturally. But there’s too much range in her performances, both between her Godfather performance and her Allen comedies and throughout that very movie, to discount her skill with funny romances as just being charming – even if she was, of course, highly charismatic.

Evolving Comedy

Annie Hall notably acted as Allen’s shift between broader, joke-heavy films and a realistic approach. Therefore, it has lots of humor, fantasy sequences, and a freewheeling patchwork of a relationship memoir mixed with painful truths into a fated love affair. Keaton, similarly, oversaw a change in Hollywood love stories, portraying neither the fast-talking screwball type or the bombshell ditz famous from the ’50s. Rather, she blends and combines aspects of both to forge a fresh approach that feels modern even now, interrupting her own boldness with her own false-start hesitations.

See, as an example the scene where Annie and Alvy Singer first connect after a match of tennis, awkwardly exchanging proposals for a lift (even though only a single one owns a vehicle). The banter is fast, but meanders unexpectedly, with Keaton maneuvering through her nervousness before winding up in a cul-de-sac of her whimsical line, a expression that captures her anxious charm. The movie physicalizes that tone in the following sequence, as she makes blasé small talk while operating the car carelessly through city avenues. Later, she centers herself singing It Had to Be You in a club venue.

Complexity and Freedom

These are not instances of the character’s unpredictability. Throughout the movie, there’s a dimensionality to her playful craziness – her hippie-hangover willingness to try drugs, her panic over lobsters and spiders, her unwillingness to be shaped by Alvy’s attempts to mold her into someone outwardly grave (which for him means preoccupied with mortality). In the beginning, Annie might seem like an strange pick to win an Oscar; she plays the female lead in a story filtered through a man’s eyes, and the main pair’s journey doesn’t lead to sufficient transformation to make it work. But Annie evolves, in aspects clear and mysterious. She simply fails to turn into a better match for the male lead. Numerous follow-up films took the obvious elements – nervous habits, quirky fashions – not fully copying Annie’s ultimate independence.

Enduring Impact and Mature Parts

Perhaps Keaton felt cautious of that tendency. After her working relationship with Woody finished, she stepped away from romantic comedies; her movie Baby Boom is really her only one from the whole decade of the eighties. Yet while she was gone, the film Annie Hall, the character perhaps moreso than the unconventional story, became a model for the genre. Actress Meg Ryan, for example, credits much of her love story success to Keaton’s skill to play smart and flibbertigibbet simultaneously. This made Keaton seem like a timeless love story icon despite her real roles being married characters (whether happily, as in the movie Father of the Bride, or less so, as in The First Wives Club) and/or moms (see The Family Stone or the comedy Because I Said So) than unattached women finding romance. Even during her return with Woody Allen, they’re a long-married couple drawn nearer by comic amateur sleuthing – and she fits the character easily, beautifully.

Yet Diane experienced an additional romantic comedy success in two thousand three with the film Something’s Gotta Give, as a dramatist in love with a older playboy (Jack Nicholson, naturally). What happened? Her last Academy Award nod, and a whole subgenre of love stories where older women (often portrayed by famous faces, but still!) reassert their romantic and/or social agency. One factor her death seems like such a shock is that she kept producing those movies as recently as last year, a constant multiplex presence. Now fans are turning from assuming her availability to realizing what an enormous influence she was on the funny romance as we know it. If it’s harder to think of present-day versions of those earlier stars who similarly follow in Keaton’s footsteps, that’s probably because it’s rare for a performer of Keaton’s skill to dedicate herself to a genre that’s mostly been streaming fodder for a recent period.

A Unique Legacy

Reflect: there are ten active actresses who received at least four best actress nominations. It’s rare for one of those roles to begin in a rom-com, not to mention multiple, as was the example of Keaton. {Because her