MIDNIGHT IN PARIS (Allen, 2011) - SPOILERS throughout - I knew the central conceit of the film going in, and I would much rather have been surprised.
There was an “ask the A.V. Club” a while ago that pondered a great question: if you had a very specific time machine, that could send you to spend 5 years within a 5 mile radius, what would you pick? At the time, my preference went to Paris from about 1967-1972, but I might have to revise that - Paris in the twenties apparently gives it a run for its money.
Oh, what that? I totally missed the message of the film. Pff. Somehow, I have a hard time believing Allen himself buys the moral. He just makes nostalgia look like so much fun. Hangin’ with Hemingway (who’s a total ass, by the way, but such an amusing one), Stein and Dalí. Even if looking at the Fitzgeralds kind of makes me sad (I wanted to reach through the screen and try to save Zelda, especially), they did know how to throw a great party.
So yes, I loved this one, almost unreservedly* - and until they invent that time machine, depictions like this on screen are a passable substitute.
*The part with the diary and the earrings though? That’s as convincing an argument as any that Allen would benefit from some more editing time. It’s dumb, implausible even within the context, and tonally off. Not to mention that a world in which everyone’s words are preserved is a much less poignant one.
