Midnight in Paris (2011)
Dir. Woody Allen
originally posted to Facebook on 6/8/11
3 out of 5
Wilson is the latest Allen surrogate, cuckolded by a shrewish fiance (Rachel McAdams) and her hoity-toity parents on a business trip to the City of Lights. He wants to quit churning out box office chum and find a publisher for his novel. She wants to ensure that she can still drop 20 grand on a handmade porch chair once they're hitched. His trips into the past only affirm how little he is enjoying the present. However, I wouldn't think that rubbing shoulders with the likes of Fitzgerald, Hemingway, and Picasso would do much to dispel anybody's intellectual insecurities.
Midnight in Paris has a cute idea. It also has fun bursting nostalgic bubbles and the idea of returning to a mythic "golden age" where we didn't have to put up with the quotidian nonsense that makes up the 98 percent of our lives, and could really focus on wringing out that remaining 2 percent of truth and beauty. I'm simpatico with Allen in theory, but I can't fully embrace the movie when most of its characters lack depth. McAdams is nothing more than a straw woman created to make Wilson's indecisiveness feel more like oppression. The famous writers and artists are best described as entertaining caricatures, and they are met by Wilson with the same sort of overexcited reverence seen in the history report at the end of Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure. But, dudes, at least he's enjoying the ride again.
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