Through the years, Woody Allen has become one of my favorite filmmakers — I even have a framed “Annie Hall” poster in my bedroom. But when I read Dylan Farrow’s letter recounting sexual abuse at the hand of her father in The New York Times last week, I had to take the poster down.

Tons of celebrities, writers and other personalities came to Allen’s defense, dismissing Farrow’s claims as lies and decreasing the credibility of victims and survivors of sexual abuse.

From Barbara Walters to Stephen King, industry insiders implied Farrow was lying and just plain refuted her claims that her father had abused her. Worse than all the high profile defenses was Allen’s response to the story. Rather than focusing on himself, Allen took shots at Dylan and Mia Farrow, Dylan’s mother and Allen’s former girlfriend. He argued that Mia Farrow coached her daughter when lying to the police, doctors and lawyers. He also said Mia Farrow lacked credibility because she had dated a much older man in Frank Sinatra — as if that had anything to do with the issue at hand.

Existing structures in Hollywood have influenced the public decision to excuse Allen’s alleged abuse. As awards season sets in, Allen’s name is popping up in nominations everywhere. Although Allen’s past is questionable, he is still nominated — Hollywood doesn’t give awards for character and decency. Like Allen, Hollywood has a long-standing tradition of choosing art instead of humanity.

Had Allen’s response to the story been more self-aware and less catty, it would have seemed less like a desperate attempt to clear his “good” name.

There is some discrepancy regarding what constitutes a “good name.” Blogger Aaron Bady writes, “If you are…extra-specially pleading on behalf of the extra-special Woody, then you are saying that his innocence is more presumptive than hers. You are saying that he is on trial, not her. He deserves judicial safeguards in the court of public opinion, but she does not.”

Allen’s films and achievements shouldn’t determine that his claims more truthful than Farrow’s.

It’s ludicrous to separate Allen’s personal life from his body of work. Allen presents an incredible self-consciousness in all his stories, even in films in which he doesn’t appear. He doesn’t act in “Midnight in Paris,” but his famous neuroses and persona practically ooze out of actor Owen Wilson’s pores. It’s almost like he’s a ventriloquist.

In “Manhattan,” Allen’s famous romantic interest in younger women appears onscreen in a huge way. His personal struggles, affairs and quandaries make their way on screen one way or another. Still, most people choose to see him as adorable or quirky, and fail to see him as whole by considering the allegations of abuse.

There aren’t two Woody Allens. “Brilliant filmmaker” is not a label exclusive of understanding him as a sexual predator. Presuming his innocence simply because of his denial is a crime too often committed by society.

In the court of public opinion, the jury is stacked in favor of the professionally reputable white guy, and scrutinizes the much smaller voice of the woman brave enough to challenge the status quo.

Whether Woody wins an Oscar this year, people should be aware of him as a whole person, not just as a filmmaker. There’s a reason these allegations have resurfaced after more than 20 years. Society needs a wake-up call in terms of excusing sexual abuse and not seeing the whole picture.

Published on February 12, 2014 at 3:11 am