Woody Allen's writing is funny again

Mere Anarchy
By Woody Allen
Random House, 160 pp., $21.95

The Insanity Defense: The Complete Prose
By Woody Allen
Random House, 352 pp., paperback, $15.95

Analyzing Woody Allen as a filmmaker and a celebrity has been a favorite pastime of critics and writers over the last 20 years. Many long for the days when he was making movies like "Annie Hall" or first involved with Mia Farrow , before the "serious Woody" emerged and his personal life swallowed his artistic endeavors. The publication of "Mere Anarchy," Allen's first collection of new humor pieces in more than two decades, along with "The Insanity Defense," which collects his first three books, will likely ignite more comparisons of the old Woody and the new Woody. And the new Woody comes off pretty well.

Much like his best films, Allen's first three humor collections -- "Getting Even ," "Without Feathers ," and "Side Effects" -- were the product of an incendiary imagination and intellect. There was nothing too silly or too smart for Allen, from obscure philosophers to shameless punning. In "Death Knocks," from "Getting Even," a man is confronted with Death, literally, coming through his window. Death proceeds to trip over the sill, curse, and ask for a glass of water, setting up a verbal chess match with Nat, a middle-aged man in seeming perfect health, over whether it's his time to go. The scene is informed equally by Ingmar Bergman's "The Seventh Seal," the Three Stooges, and the Borscht Belt, a brilliant and visceral mix of highbrow and lowbrow comedy.

His characters in the earlier collections are the usual mensches and schleps, shown against the customary backdrop of New York City. Somehow, all of it fits together. Allen takes high-concept stories like "The Kugelmass Episode," from "Side Effects," in which, with the help of a magician, a man escapes into "Madame Bovary" to cheat on his wife, or a seemingly one-note gag like "If the Impressionists Had Been Dentists," from "Without Feathers," and makes comic art.

Classic Woody fans will be happy to know that "Mere Anarchy" does little to change that formula. Allen's imagination is as fertile as ever, and his non sequiturs as startlingly funny as in his prime. New Woody fans will enjoy his newfound love of London (also evident in his films "Match Point" and "Scoop"), which displaces New York in a couple of pieces.

Testifying against Michael Ovitz in "Surprise Rocks Disney Trial," Mickey Mouse reveals his split with Daffy Duck over Scientology, and the fact that Tom and Jerry both participate in EST. "Calisthenics, Poison Ivy, Final Cut" is a series of letters between the operator of a film camp for kids and the parents of a prodigy who sold his summer project to Miramax for a $16 million advance. And the little guy struggling against the world was never so little as when trying to explain the universe with string theory in "Strung Out," starting with a classic first line, "I am greatly relieved that the universe is finally explainable. I was beginning to think it was me."

At times the concept works better than the execution, as with "Attention Geniuses: Cash Only," about a therapist who, inspired by a doctor who took paintings from masters like Van Gogh in return for treatment, accepts publishing rights from a tin-eared wannabe songwriter. And not even Allen can breathe life into the dead horse of the offense of removing mattress tags . His penchant for Dickensian character names -- Dr. Skeezix Feebleman? April Fleshpot? -- is a little distracting. But then, the names were distracting in Dickens to begin with. Those small criticisms miss the larger point that "Mere Anarchy" is some of the best work Allen has done lately, onscreen or off.

Nick Zaino is a freelance writer who covers comedy for the Globe.