Midnight in Paris


Today, Good Friday, was one of those days when I needed to see a movie.

Is that a normal impulse? I don’t know. I just NEEDED to see an encapsulated story in the time available to me. A story: one of those beginning, middle and end affairs. The kind of ART that takes only about 80-100 minutes to be expressed.

There was absolutely nothing on at the theatres worth seeing so I spent a good 15 minutes trawling though the APPLE TV movie list. And I was just about to watch The Good, The Bad and The Ugly when I settled on “Midnight in Paris”.

I love Woody Allen as much as the next guy/gal – which basically means I love Woody when he is good and then am absolutely appalled at Woody making me spend money and time on some tripe his “genius” thinks is worthy of releasing. (I won’t bother listing these films cause I know you know the movies I am talking about.)

But Midnight in Paris is good. Great even.

I really had no idea about the plot so when it took a refreshing and quite “realistic” tangent about 20 minutes in and I was suddenly hooked. I say “realistic” knowing that the tangent was entirely fantastic and surreal, but it felt natural and smooth – like a song’s break down.

The Hemingway character inspired me to reconsider the real man. I always thought (from knowing very little about him) that he was a grumpy, pathological brute – but I think my views have softened somewhat. Interesting fellow and the scenes where he talks about the fear of death and how loving something kills that fear got my brain all “thinky” and I lost track of what was going on the screen and had to rewind. TRUE STORY.


The inclusion of Carla Bruni was inspired. Like her character seems contrived and “added in at the last minute”. But wow. It was great to see her. I know this is tragic of me to admit, but I knew her name and face when I saw her enter and it screamed, “cameo” but for some reason I forgot who she was and just thought of her as a modern French A-list actress doing Woody a favour. Then when her second scenes came up I was like – HOLY MOLY FUCKIN SHIT. How could I have forgotten that?


I guess the film has some deeper lessons about ones grand dreams, ones choices and how fraught with danger and complexity being a “romantic” is. I count myself as a hopeless romantic and constantly caught up in my dreams. I want to build my own house. I want to live overseas on a farm, I want to grow all my own food, I want to start a life-coaching business, I want to ride my bike to Perth. ETC.

But then I think about how I would miss the next episode of Mediawatch and I settle.


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