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Plenty of accomplished female actors have performed in romantic comedies. Ordinarily, if they want to receive Oscar recognition, they need to shift for dramatic parts. Diane Keaton, who passed away recently, followed a reverse trajectory and pulled it off with disarmingly natural. Her first major film role was in the classic The Godfather, as dramatic an cinematic masterpiece as ever created. But that same year, she revisited the character of the character Linda, the love interest of a geeky protagonist, in a cinematic take of the stage play Play It Again, Sam. She regularly juggled heavy films with lighthearted romances throughout the ’70s, and the lighter fare that earned her the Academy Award for leading actress, altering the genre for good.

The Award-Winning Performance

That Oscar was for the film Annie Hall, helmed and co-scripted by Woody Allen, with Keaton portraying Annie, one half of the movie’s fractured love story. The director and star had been in a romantic relationship before making the film, and stayed good friends until her passing; in interviews, Keaton described Annie as a perfect image of herself, as seen by Allen. One could assume, then, to think her acting required little effort. But there’s too much range in Keaton’s work, from her Godfather role and her comedic collaborations and within Annie Hall itself, to dismiss her facility with romantic comedy as just being charming – though she was, of course, highly charismatic.

Evolving Comedy

The film famously functioned as Allen’s shift between more gag-based broad comedies and a more naturalistic style. As such, it has lots of humor, dreamlike moments, and a freewheeling patchwork of a romantic memory in between some stinging insights into a ill-fated romance. In a similar vein, Diane, oversaw a change in U.S. romantic comedies, embodying neither the screwball-era speed-talker or the glamorous airhead famous from the ’50s. Instead, she fuses and merges traits from both to invent a novel style that feels modern even now, cutting her confidence short with uncertain moments.

See, as an example the moment when Annie and Alvy initially bond after a tennis game, awkwardly exchanging proposals for a ride (even though only one of them has a car). The banter is fast, but zig-zags around unpredictably, with Keaton soloing around her nervousness before concluding with of that famous phrase, a expression that captures her nervous whimsy. The story embodies that feeling in the following sequence, as she engages in casual chat while driving recklessly through Manhattan streets. Afterward, she composes herself delivering the tune in a nightclub.

Dimensionality and Independence

This is not evidence of the character’s unpredictability. During the entire story, there’s a dimensionality to her light zaniness – her post-hippie openness to try drugs, her fear of crustaceans and arachnids, her refusal to be manipulated by Alvy’s efforts to turn her into someone apparently somber (which for him means focused on dying). In the beginning, Annie could appear like an strange pick to win an Oscar; she’s the romantic lead in a film told from a male perspective, and the central couple’s arc doesn’t lead to sufficient transformation to suit each other. However, she transforms, in manners visible and hidden. She just doesn’t become a more compatible mate for Alvy. Numerous follow-up films stole the superficial stuff – neurotic hang-ups, quirky fashions – not fully copying Annie’s ultimate independence.

Enduring Impact and Mature Parts

Maybe Keaton was wary of that trend. After her working relationship with Woody finished, she took a break from rom-coms; Baby Boom is really her only one from the complete 1980s period. But during her absence, the character Annie, the persona even more than the unconventional story, served as a blueprint for the category. Actress Meg Ryan, for example, is largely indebted for her comedic roles to Keaton’s ability to portray intelligence and flightiness together. This cast Keaton as like a timeless love story icon despite her real roles being matrimonial parts (if contentedly, as in the movie Father of the Bride, or more strained, as in the film The First Wives Club) and/or moms (see The Family Stone or Because I Said So) than independent ladies in love. Even during her return with the director, they’re a established married pair united more deeply by funny detective work – and she fits the character easily, beautifully.

Yet Diane experienced a further love story triumph in the year 2003 with Something’s Gotta Give, as a dramatist in love with a man who dates younger women (actor Jack Nicholson, naturally). What happened? Her last Academy Award nod, and a entire category of romantic tales where senior actresses (typically acted by celebrities, but still!) take charge of their destinies. A key element her loss is so startling is that Diane continued creating these stories up until recently, a regular cinema fixture. Now fans are turning from assuming her availability to realizing what an enormous influence she was on the funny romance as it exists today. Is it tough to imagine present-day versions of such actresses who walk in her shoes, that’s likely since it’s seldom for a star of her caliber to devote herself to a genre that’s mostly been streaming fodder for a while now.

A Unique Legacy

Ponder: there are ten active actresses who earned several Oscar nods. It’s unusual for a single part to begin in a rom-com, let alone half of them, as was the situation with Diane. {Because her