Narrator: In January 1992, a set of Polaroid photos discovered on a fireplace mantel ignited a firestorm that would consume one of Hollywood's most celebrated careers. The images were of Soon-Yi Previn, the adopted daughter of actress Mia Farrow, taken by Farrow's longtime partner, Woody Allen. The discovery didn't just end a relationship; it triggered a cascade of public accusations, a bitter custody battle, and a molestation charge that would shadow Allen for the rest of his life. How could a private life unravel so spectacularly and publicly? And what is the story from the man at the center of the storm? In his candid and controversial memoir, Apropos of Nothing, Woody Allen provides his personal account of the events that shaped his life, from his quirky Brooklyn childhood to his tumultuous relationships and prolific career in film. The book offers an introspective, and often self-deprecating, look at the man behind the public persona, presenting his side of a story that has been defined by decades of media coverage and public debate.

Narrator: Woody Allen’s early life was a study in contrasts, a foundation of loving chaos that shaped his signature neurotic and pessimistic worldview. He was born into a mismatched marriage in Brooklyn. His father, Marty, was a charming, life-loving character with a colorful past that included a near-death experience in the Navy and a stint working for the mobster Albert Anastasia. Though often unreliable and involved in questionable activities, he was an affectionate figure who, despite his own financial struggles, would leave five dollars on his son's nightstand every morning. His mother, Nettie, was the practical, hardworking anchor of the family, a woman of sharp wit but little cultural sophistication.

This environment, filled with doting aunts but also parental friction, led a young Allen to seek refuge elsewhere. He describes himself as a "genetically born louse," naturally inclined toward solitude and escapism. This retreat was not into books or high culture, but into the worlds of magic tricks, comic books, and gangsters. His true education happened when he played hooky from school, finding a warm, free place to hang out in the city's museums and movie theaters. It was his cousin Rita, however, who truly opened the door to another world, taking him to double features every Saturday. He fell in love with the "champagne comedies" of Hollywood, glamorous fantasies set in luxurious penthouses where problems were solved with witty banter. This love for magic over reality became a core theme of his life, a preference he bluntly states by quoting Blanche DuBois: "I don’t want reality, I want magic."

Narrator: Allen’s path into the arts was not born from a grand vision but from a series of accidents, insecurities, and crucial nudges from key mentors. As a teenager, he found himself attracted to intellectual, cultured young women but felt woefully inadequate. In one memorable story, a date took him to see a production of Macbeth performed by Thai puppets, which he slept through, and later tried to discuss philosophers he'd never heard of. The date ended with his nose getting caught in a slammed door. These romantic failures motivated him to read Stendhal and Dostoevsky, not for enlightenment, but to keep up.

Professionally, his talent for comedy was first an accident. He began writing jokes and submitting them to newspaper columnists on a whim, and the thrill of seeing his name in print for the first time was a transformative experience. This led him to change his name from Allan Konigsberg to Woody Allen, a symbolic reinvention. However, his career truly pivoted thanks to two key figures. The first was writer-director Danny Simon, who taught him the fundamental structures of comedy writing, emphasizing the importance of strong setup lines and trusting one's own judgment. The second was his manager, Jack Rollins, who saw a performer in the successful writer. Rollins pushed the reluctant Allen into stand-up, recognizing that for comedy to work, the audience had to connect with the person telling the jokes. Rollins forced him to perform relentlessly at a small club, Upstairs at the Duplex, to build his stage presence, a period of grueling practice that ultimately launched his career as a comedian.

Narrator: While his stand-up career was taking off, Allen’s initial forays into filmmaking were, by his own account, deeply humiliating experiences that instilled in him a lifelong rule: he would only work on movies where he had total creative control. His first major screenwriting credit was for What's New Pussycat?, a project that began as a vehicle for Warren Beatty but spiraled into a chaotic production. Allen recounts how his script was "mangled" and "butchered" by the whims of producer Charlie Feldman and star Peter Sellers, who would improvise lines and demand changes that undermined the comedic structure.

This was followed by What's Up, Tiger Lily?, where he was hired to dub a Japanese spy movie with new, comedic dialogue. Though the film became a cult hit, he was so unhappy with the final product that he sued to have his name removed. These experiences solidified his resolve. He realized that to protect his artistic vision, he needed to direct his own material. This vow for total control became the defining principle of his filmmaking career, allowing him to create a unique and personal body of work, free from the compromises and interferences he endured early on.

Narrator: The most controversial chapter of Allen's life began not as a grand romance, but as an unexpected connection. For years, he viewed Soon-Yi Previn, Mia Farrow's adopted daughter, as a quiet and distant child. According to Allen, Soon-Yi's upbringing under Farrow was far from the idyllic picture often presented. He recounts Soon-Yi's stories of a difficult childhood, from being abandoned in Korea to what he describes as neglectful and emotionally abusive treatment by Farrow. Soon-Yi told him she "preferred the nuns" of the orphanage to life with her adoptive mother.

Their relationship began to shift during basketball games and casual outings. Allen started to see "a sharp, classy, fabulous young woman; highly intelligent, full of latent potential." He claims their bond grew out of a shared sense of being outsiders in the Farrow household. The relationship turned romantic after a first kiss, to which Soon-Yi reportedly responded, "I was wondering when you were going to make a move." Allen portrays their affair as a genuine connection that developed between two consenting adults, a narrative that stands in stark contrast to the public scandal that would soon erupt.

Narrator: The discovery of the erotic photos of Soon-Yi unleashed what Allen describes as an unforgivable rage from Mia Farrow. He claims she immediately began a campaign of revenge, telling their children he had raped Soon-Yi and, most critically, planting the seed of a molestation accusation in their seven-year-old daughter, Dylan. Allen details what he believes was a period of intense coaching, pointing to testimony from housekeepers and his son Moses Farrow, who described being forced to rehearse false stories as a child.

Faced with a public firestorm and a biased custody judge, Allen mounted a vigorous defense. He highlights two key pieces of evidence: a fourteen-month investigation by New York State Child Welfare and a separate, intensive evaluation by the Child Sexual Abuse Clinic at Yale–New Haven Hospital. Both investigations independently concluded that "no credible evidence was found" of abuse and that Dylan's statements were likely the product of her mother's influence. Allen emphasizes that he was never charged with a crime. Despite being cleared by these expert bodies, the accusation persisted, fueled by what he saw as a media frenzy and a public narrative that favored a simple "he said, she said" story over a complex and fact-supported reality.

Narrator: The single most important takeaway from Apropos of Nothing is Woody Allen's unwavering assertion of his innocence, backed by a detailed presentation of legal and psychological reports that are often overlooked in the public discourse. He argues that the narrative against him was not born from truth, but from a combination of personal vengeance, media sensationalism, and a cultural moment eager to condemn without a full hearing of the facts.

Ultimately, the book challenges the reader to look beyond the headlines and consider the anatomy of a scandal. It leaves one with a difficult question: In an age of instant judgment, how do we separate public perception from documented evidence, and what is our responsibility when a person's life and legacy hang in the balance?