Leave it to Woody Allen to get me back to blogging!

In Midnight in Paris director Woody Allen tells the story of Gil (Owen Wilson), who is in Paris with his fiancee, Inez, and her family when he gets picked up in the middle of the night by a car that takes him back in time to the 1920s. As an average Hollywood screenwriter and aspiring novelist, 1920s Paris is Gil's "golden age." He spends his nights party hopping with the Fitzgeralds, Picaso, Hemmingway, and other artistic icons, and his days trying to get out of sightseeing outings.
The opening scene is the tourist version of Allen's tribute to New York in the opening of Manhattan. It's bright and cheery, but idealistic. It's very apparent in comparison to Manhattan that Allen is a tourist in Paris, but so are his characters, so it works. The first part of the movie is almost painful as Gil interacts with the real people in his life. His fiancee has very little patience for Gil's Romantic vision of the city, and her interest quickly turns to couple friends of hers who they bump into. Paul is painfully pedantic, and his wife seems endlessly amused by all of his "If I'm not mistaken" musings on every aspect of Parisian life. I love the way she struggles over French words, always questioning how much of an accent is appropriate. If all of life for these characters is a show, everything for Gil is a dream. When the night portion of the film takes over, everything glistens and sparks. We're wrapped up in the delusion of Gil's "golden age" even though it seemed so idealistic at first.
Midnight in Paris is fun and exciting. It feels as if Woody Allen is taking his own version of Gertrude Stein's advice to Gil by taking a more lighthearted view of the world, but ultimately, the film is still fraught with the tension of contradiction. Gil's ultimate epiphany may seem grand, but how much can be gained from trading one ideal for any other? Not to spoil anything, but of course, Gil learns to appreciate the value in his own world over a fantasy. But at the end of the film, I was left questioning whether it's really a story about creating one fantasy after another to just keep life progressing. One of the best qualities of this movie is that you can watch it, eat your popcorn, and walk away pleasantly entertained, or you can spend days pondering the influence of art and life over each other and the role of idealism in happiness. Not many movies can play both roles, but I think this one does it very well.
I think this movie shows that we all have a little part of us that thinks we could be so happy in another time. Who wouldn't love to be party hopping with Cole Porter and having drinks with Dali? It's why we watch period movies and get so swept up in the glamour of it all. For all the twinkling lights, it's nice to escape for a few moments, and then to be reminded that we have our own magic here and now, whether or not it's fleeting too.
Watching the movie, I was very wrapped up in the story of it all. Dicky's character is really interesting through his complete lack of focus or connection to reality. The leading man himself, however, is little more than a prop--just the product of a family that wanted to love him but just didn't have the space. His girlfriend and father help Micky push back against the destructive forces of his mother and brother, but even so, Micky's resistance is just a product of him allowing himself to be pushed around by another influence. He lacks conviction and will, which are, surprisingly, the characteristics present to a fault in his mother, and developed as a strength in Dicky. Both these characters show an incredible range in the picture. It gives the picture a genuine touch of character--characters who can seem to be one way, and yet possess very contrary traits at a deeper level though neither seems contrived. They seem shaped by circumstance and routine into versions of themselves that they once weren't, but only rarely do their lost-qualities emerge from suffocation.


