Don't even think of going to see Deconstructing Harry if you hate Woody Allen. Not even if you're crazy about Demi Moore (it's a fully-clothed, blink-and-you'll-miss-her appearance anyway). Or if you're a devoted fan of Robin Williams (he does have slightly more screen time, but he's literally out of focus). And especially not if you're one of those stick-in-the-mud Allen fans who loved his earlier, funny films, because Deconstructing Harry is more Stardust Memories than Sleeper. It's a return to angst-ridden, pyschotherapist territory after the joyous, `tuneless' frivolity of last year's ennui-heavy sing-a-long, Everyone Says I Love You.
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