So, in my usual yearly attempt to catch up on the Oscar nominations and understand what is relevant in culture (film culture, that is), I always try to watch as many Best Pictures as possible. Usually, that’s about 1.5 per year. Buuut, I’m shooting for the stars this year. First stop: Midnight in Paris. I love Woody Allen, so this is the natural start for me. I wanted to see it in the theaters, but no one would go with me! Sorry there aren’t stunts like Mission Impossible, people. I love Woody’s style, love his stories, love the soundtrack, LOVE PARIS.
Nostalgia is denial – denial of the painful present.
First off, I have to love it because if I could pick an era of history in which to live, I would most definitely also go with Paris in the 1920’s. I took an English class on Americans in Paris in the 20’s in college, and you just yearn to be around such style, sass, and flare. People were so classy (well, depending on who you ask, I guess, but at least compared to today, where we revere artists that wear meat outfits and tattoo Thug Life Across their knuckles (though, don’t worry, I’m still pretty modern – I do request Umbrella be played at pretty much every bar with a dj where I’ve had more than two drinks)) and artistic. Maybe I’m just running with the wrong circle. Lawyers, they aren’t always so hoppin’. I don’t care for Hemingway, but I would absolutely hang out with Scott and Zelda. And Dali! And Gertrude Stein! Especially Zelda – she is portrayed as such a firecracker. She’s fabulous. And nuts. But fabulous. I am definitely inspired to read a biography. Adrian Brody as Dali was hilarious, and Kathy Bates as Gertrude Stein was an amazing choice.
Anyways, I digress. I thought the movie was cute, romantic, quirky. So Woody. Despite the time travel, which really isn’t my deal, I loved it. See it!! Fantastic cast. Carla Bruni, I love you.
That’s what the present is, unsatisfying. Because that’s what life is, a little unsatisfying.
Booking. Trip. To. Paris.