Sexual abuse allegations against Woody Allen raise questions about the nature of celebrity.

“What’s your favorite Woody Allen movie?”

This is the deceptively lighthearted question Dylan Farrow posed to the world in her open letter on Feb. 1. She was not writing to exchange niceties or honor her adoptive father’s newly-won lifetime achievement award. On the contrary, Dylan Farrow’s mission was to tell a story: one that has extended far beyond the usual celebrity drama. She was a victim of sexual abuse. Her tormentor? The illustrious Oscar-winning Woody Allen.

Her tormentor? The illustrious Oscar-winning Woody Allen.

Farrow accused Allen of child abuse and sexual exploitation, accenting her account with vivid details. Meanwhile, the well-known and well-loved movie director Allen has managed to skirt the usual legal process.

The reality is that some people don’t care enough to do anything about it.

And why should they? Woody Allen is innocent until proven guilty. But a few Google searches later, I discovered that Woody Allen had already been accused of sexual assault throughout the early 1990s, and that Farrow’s accusations had been covered up by Allen’s clandestine team of lawyers. That’s already a major red flag: If he didn’t do it, as he claimed in his response to Farrow’s accusations, then why did he feel the need to cover it up so vehemently? What does he have to hide?

If that isn’t already suspicious, we can’t forget that Woody Allen married his own adopted daughter, which doesn’t exactly rectify our opinion of him. Is it so hard to believe that Woody Allen might be an incestuous sex offender, considering that these allegations have dangled for decades? Allen may claim that the allegations have been born of “malicious intent,” but according to statistics, only 1% of sexual abuse accusations are fabricated.

Woody Allen is ready to shut down investigations and stifle our inquiries before we can even elbow our way through a barrage of biased lawyers.

Of course, Woody Allen is ready to shut down investigations and stifle our inquiries before we can even elbow our way through a barrage of biased lawyers. In his letter responding to Farrow, Woody Allen makes it clear that we should drop the matter entirely. He’s about as defensive as the Berlin wall.

He possesses enough hubris to believe that he is somehow above the law, above accusations, above these so-called “rumors.” And if that misguided conceit doesn’t rouse public curiosity (and indignation), I don’t know what can.

As the allegations begin to pile up, and Woody Allen scurries from the spotlight like the possibly guilty man that he is, I can’t help but be enraged by the public’s complacency. We should be hauling him to court, but instead, amidst the denial and money and fame, we lose sight of the only important thing: Dylan Farrow is in pain, and America is doing virtually nothing. A tweet is nice, but where are the legal proceedings? Where are the confrontations?

Farrow’s situation is a microcosm of America’s current troubling trend: in a country where 1 in 5 women experience sexual or relationship abuse, barely 5 percent of those cases are brought before the law. The other 95 percent remains silent and suffering, and Farrow is one of them.

Farrow’s situation is a microcosm of America’s current troubling trend.

It seems that we are targeting the wrong issue. The minute details of Woody Allen’s sexual history are less important than the fact that we are letting him circumvent the proper proceedings following the allegations. The denying public, which fails (or chooses not) to acknowledge the fact that Woody Allen may be a criminal, enables Allen to avoid the proverbial hot seat. Whether or not Farrow is exaggerating is also not important — we should shift the flames of scandal from the victim to the perpetrator. In the end, only Woody Allen can answer for his crimes. If he walks free, at least we’ll know that we’ve done all we can for Farrow.

But for now, we have to witness the 21st-century phenomena of the “artist” plea: celebrities today have adopted the idea that art can justify the actions of the artist. Justin Bieber for instance, upon arrest for drunk driving, claimed that he was too rich and famous for jail. The law was nothing to him, mostly because society has enforced the idea that rules don’t apply to people with their faces on billboards.

The law was nothing to him, mostly because society has enforced the idea that rules don’t apply to people with their faces on billboards.

J.D. Salinger, beloved author of “Catcher in the Rye,” left his wife and family to live with seventeen-year-old girls. He was never convicted of any crime. Why should he? He’s a writer. He’s allowed.

Allen Ginsberg, beloved poet and author of “Howl,” was a known supporter of pederasty, even admitting to having sexual relations with 11-year-old boys. But he’s a writer. He’s allowed.

Yes, the works created by the likes of Salinger and Allen are worth our attention. Yes, they probably are brilliant, and their works have contributed a fair amount of literary truth or artistic beauty to our society. But they are still only human, and they should have been treated as such. We can forgive a creepy foot fetish or a messy divorce, but child molestation is a serious offense — not something we can slap on the cover of a tabloid, say “Maybe,” and then shrug off.

Just the possibility that Woody Allen is a rapist should be enough for us to consider boycotting his films, or at the very least, bring him to court this instant and detain him long enough to ask questions. But it isn’t enough, and that’s the saddest part of all. Our inability to condemn Woody Allen makes me wonder why we, as a culture, allow artists to become more than people. All of a sudden, people who claim to be “genius” are judged differently, as if their creative work can justify any action, no matter how atrocious.

All of a sudden, people who claim to be “genius” are judged differently.

Woody Allen is not his art. He is only a man, and he is a man with the law at his tail. The more we chase, the squirmier he gets, and maybe we’ll finally run fast enough for the truth. If we allow him to retreat back into his mansion without even a trial, then we have failed Dylan Farrow and all of the victims she represents: Farrow has gifted us with her inexhaustible pursuit of the truth, even if that truth is hers alone, and now we must do the same.