For as long as fiction has existed, we've heard of those driven to alter their very selves by a love gone awry. From The Great Gatsby to Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, tales such as these often result in their heroes realizing too late that learning from their mistakes and moving on tends to work out better than trying to bury them completely. One gets the idea that this is what writer/director Woody Allen was going for with his newest work, Café Society, wherein a pair of starry-eyed kids share a fleeting romance, only to be reunited years later as changed people. But although the question of whether their initial spark has survived the separation is intended to fuel the picture's dramatic thrust, the premise ends up feeling thin to the point of collapsing in on itself, should the tiniest idiosyncrasy be called into question. There's so little about Café Society that feels of consequence, with Allen taking his tribute to frothy vintage melodramas too far and giving us what's simultaneously one of his most visually-appealing and emotionally-hollow films.

America is knee-deep in the 1930s, and Bobby Dorfman (Jesse Eisenberg) has arrived in sunny Hollywood with...well, not much of a plan, really. Anxious to break free from his family business in New York, Bobby hopes that changing coastlines and going to work for his talent agent uncle Phil (Steve Carell) will give his life some direction. Our boy is taught a crash course in California culture by Phil's secretary, Vonnie (Kristen Stewart), with whom he instantly falls in love. Sadly, it's a short-lived affair, as Bobby discovers that his newfound sweetie is also his uncle's mistress, leading to a parting of the ways. The years fly by, during which Phil inducts Vonnie into the elite of Tinseltown, while Bobby goes on to head a thriving nightclub. But just as the youngsters have settled into happy relationships with their significant others, fate slams them together once again, threatening to bring those old fuzzy feelings percolating back to the surface.

Allen's desire to replicate the atmosphere of a classic escapist romance is evident all throughout Café Society. The flick's narration (provided by Allen himself) is heavy with loving descriptions of the style in which the era's upper crust indulged, with the gorgeous production design living up to said accounts in spades. Café Society never overdoes the visual glamour, presenting a totally authentic recreation of all those grand old mansions, movie palaces, and whatnot, with just a hint of romanticization. Also, while the photography of Allen's films usually skews towards the basic, this picture is ripe with fluid movement, eye-catching compositions, and evocative lighting. Café Society's world is one you can imagine distracting characters and persuading them into lowering their emotional guards, but unfortunately, the movie's players are nowhere near as well-rounded as they should be for such events to connect. While Allen successfully emulates Old Hollywood on a surface level, his grasp of the story is shockingly lax, providing neither an ironic twist on the glitz-laden narratives of the time or an earnest but substantial fable of its own.

Café Society's undoing is the culmination of a team effort in front of and behind the camera. Be it through Allen's writing or the performances that the actors chose to run with, the movie fails to effectively communicate even the most basic milestones on our protagonists' romantic excursion. The first attraction, the sting of splitting up, and the unease of reconciliation are scarcely dwelled upon, with Allen mostly just mentioning that they took place before moving onto the next scene. What's even less clear is what the guy was in such a hurry for anyway, as whenever Bobby and Vonnie aren't around, our time is occupied by brief character vignettes or cutaway jokes that, in large part, either go nowhere or just aren't especially amusing. However, the cast is every bit as complicit in contributing to Café Society's inert nature, with nary a soul feeling confident of how to play their part. Eisenberg and Stewart seem sincere enough, yet both fall into a nasty habit of picking one tone and set of mannerisms to convey and hanging for dear life onto them, no matter what emotion a scene calls for them to experience. Blake Lively's socialite is a misguided mix of saintly sweetheart and oblivious ditz, and Carell portrays Phil as a 100% lovelorn sadsack, even though the character is screaming for just a touch of old-school Hollywood bluster.

As the case is whenever Allen churns out a woefully-underwhelming dud such as Café Society, many will rush to ring the death knell on his prolific career. But although this is easily his weakest production in some time (even last year's inconsistent Irrational Man had that diabolical streak going for it), it's not an omen of his fading talents. Appealing to the eye and well-intentioned as it might be, Café Society is still a love letter to the silver-screen soap operas of yore that could've used some more thought put into it.

(Released by Lionsgate and rated "PG-13" by MMPA.)