Midnight in Paris (2011)

directed by Woody Allen
starring Owen Wilson, Marion Cotillard, Rachel McAdams

I went into this film knowing two things: Owen Wilson and Woody Allen. I was expecting a cute film involving romance and romanticizing Paris. I got a cute film about writer's block, time travel, and why our fascination with the past is really just a cover for the universal fear of death.

Here we go!

This film leaves you with a lot to talk about. I'd say that's it's second-strongest suit. Owen Wilson's character begins the film as a frustrated writer balancing between the success of Hollywood and the allure of "struggle," as his fiancee puts it, walking the streets of Paris and fantasizing about moving into a rooftop attic. "How very bohemian," his would-be father-in-law comments. "All that's missing is the tuberculosis."

Wilson is a perfect fit for Woody Allen's bumbling romantic Gil - and the character is quite obviously Woody's, through and through. He's very likeable, in fact. However, I can't help but agree with the otherwise unpleasant father's assessment: Gil's obsession with 1920's-era Paris revolves around a fantasized reality. Every time period had its beauty and genius; every time period has also had its ugliness and vulgarity. Each generation thinks that it is truly the Last Great one. And many a Gil has looked into the past thinking: if only.

Woody Allen, never lacking in subtlety (more on that later), turns Gil's fantasy into a fever dream of the fame and excitement of the Roaring Twenties. Via magical midnight vehicle, Gil is transported to the world of Ernest Hemingway, the Fitzgeralds, Pablo Picasso, and several others - among them a woman played by the always "alluring" Marion Cotillard. Here is the movie's first-strongest suit. It brings in an avalanche of actors to appear as these legends, dressing them in impeccable costumes and placing them in fantastic sets. I had to try very hard not to use the word 'charming' there, as it's the single word that sums up the film for me. They all appear to be having a lovely time, and it's quite fun to watch, say, Adrian Brody try on Salvador Dali for a fit.

Now for the downside: remember the subtlety I mentioned before? Its lack is felt in the entire film, but it is particularly clear in the fly-by characters of the past. Hemingway's delivery is almost laughable; he speaks in the same tone as his prose, proclaiming eloquent platitudes about bravery, death and love. It's  fun to watch, but it also makes suspension of disbelief practically impossible. Cotillard brings some nuance to her role as the fashion student and resident lover Adriana, but she remains the heavily-romanticized, sexually-liberated, quick, pleasant female companion so often prized in nostalgic fiction. Things aren't much better in 2010; Gil's fiancee (Rachel McAdams) is entirely shrill and shallow, while her wealthy Republican parents' favorite mantras "cheap is cheap" and "you get what you pay for" must be repeated about five times each. Everyone says precisely what they mean, succinctly and effectively: their dialogue reflects their one-note characterization.

But while it isn't high art, I left the theatre with a smile. Allen explored fascinating themes here: the longing of the past versus the boredom with the present, the magic of Place versus Time, love's power to suggest immortality - sure, they're all discussed bluntly, but they're discussed all the same, and we leave the theater eager for discussion and digestion just as Gil leaves the screen (and the 1920's) somewhat more enlightened for his journey.