I was about to declare Woody Allen written and directed Midnight in Paris a pleasant surprise. The fact that I am about to pick it apart might say more about my psyche than the movie’s merits. I went to the E Street Cinema in Washington, DC expecting to be disappointed. I didn’t know Woody Allen was involved and all I imagined was Owen Wilson and Rachel McAdams in some lousy chick flick. After a really slow start - more about the opening later- I thought I was trapped in chick flick hell and then the film took a super natural and surprisingly pleasant turn.
I was delighted. Suddenly it was cute, funny and interesting all at once. Even more enjoyable if you are a fan of art, literature or music. It’s a simple plot (no spoilers read on); an American couple and their parents are vacationing in Paris. The couple is engaged. He, Owen Wilson, is the misunderstood quirky artist, sound familiar? She, Rachel McAdams, is the shallow and superficial blond fiancee that shows more interest in a male friend they bump into in Paris than her fiancee. The male friend is a know-it-all . The artist’s future in-laws don’t help the situation. The artist, left on his own walking the streets of Paris, embarks on a super natural journey where he learns about his idols while questioning his assumptions about joy and happiness. He finds himself and he learns his true calling. Nice, right?
The movie does a wonderful job of sweeping you up into the moment. Except when we arrive at the payoff. Our hero is suddenly confronted with a hard choice. The artist not only makes his choice but proceeds to explain why. He doesn’t stop there. He then explains the movie and the moral of the story. It doesn’t hit you at first. You walk away from the film thinking what a cute and fun movie. Then slowly you realize what happened.
Woody left nothing to the imagination. Every questioned answered in a nice tight package. Is there a happy ending – answered. Does the couple end up together – answered. Moral of the story – answered. The references to art, literature and music which are real cute at first start to come so fast and furious its annoying. Again the references, exposed and explained. Left on my own, with nothing to ponder I began to pick the movie apart. It’s like I’m insulted that Allen thought I was so stupid I needed everything explained. I started lashing out.
The opening took forever. Ridiculous. Woody, show us the Eiffel Tower, people smoking at a cafe, a hot woman on a bike in a sundress with a baguette sticking out of her purse and the Arc de Triomphe – boom – you’ve established we are in Paris in under 10 seconds.
The Americans were over the top. We get it, the blond doesn’t understand the artist. She’s a jerk, over and over and over again. The male friend is know it all. Not quite sure? Another character tells us he’s pedantic. Still not sure, the artist repeats it. Even the parents are jerks, we get it. Nope let’s really slam it home by ridiculing them and their politics (of course they’re conservative). Oh that’s not enough, let’s make them Tea Party members (real creative Woody)
Which brings me to beginning of this review. Maybe this says more about me than about the movie. Did Woody tick me off by explaining everything or am I ticked off because I can’t be the pedantic jerk that explains the movie to my friends? That might be something for me and my bartender to work out. In the mean time, go see the movie. By the way, you know that friend that never gets movies? You know the one, that gave up on Lost because it was too complicated. Take them to see Midnight in Paris, they’ll love it. You’ll like it and you won’t have to explain a thing.
