Golden Age Thinking

Midnight in Paris
By Jonathan Fisher, October 25th, 2011

Midnight in Paris is the 41st film that Woody Allen has directed in as many years. Quite a staggering number. The man is, unbelievably, 75 years old now, and still has the work ethic of his much younger, equally neurotic self. Allen's career is an extraordinary case study -- is it possible for an artist to create so many works that he just flat runs out of things to say, feelings to express and parts of himself to share with the world? I feel that one of the most depressing sagas in recent film history has been the demise of Woody Allen's career. A film-maker who began his career as a reflective, funny, philosophically and cinematically literate artist has allowed his work become self-indulgent, repetitive and distastefully narcissistic. People praise his prolific work ethic (I am aware that I'm equally guilty of this at the head of this article), but would it have been better for his career and legacy if he just piped down every now and then?


There have been occasional recent successes but most of Allen's films post-1990 have been a wretched combination of bland and pretentious. Match Point hit the mark. It was incisive in its cynicism and border-line nihilism, and combined elegant direction with an addictive narrative and fine performances from an attractive cast (including the City of London itself). Small Time Crooks, conversely, was as fine a slapstick comedy as Allen has made. But for every Match Point and Small Time Crooks there has been a Cassandra's Dream (a thriller that needed at least a couple of rewrites) or a Scoop (a lame-duck comedy that should have stayed in the 'unfilmed manuscripts' tray at Allen's house).

This one, a romance/comedy/fantasy film about a neurotic young screenwriter vacationing in Paris with his fiancee, is worth watching. It features so many of the Allen's favourite themes (insecurity, nostalgia, a disdain for pseudo-intellectualism), and explores them sweetly and breezily. Owen Wilson cheekily plays the lead role as Gil, a writer holidaying in Paris with his fiancee, the pretentiously named Inez (Rachel McAdams). The couple bumps into some mutual friends, including an insufferable know-it-all played subtly and hilariously by Michael Sheen, and Gil separates from the group after a night out. Drunkenly trying to find his way back to his hotel, Gil gets lost in the streets of Paris, before being picked up by a 1920s Peugot carrying two characters claiming to be F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald. They take Gil to a party featuring a kind of 'greatest hits' of the world's artistic figures.

It's a fantasy world, of course (or is it?). Gil returns again and again to it, making friends with Salvador Dali (oddly played by Adrien Brody), Gertrude Stein (Kathy Bates -- Oscar-worthy), Pablo Picasso (Marcial Di Fonzo), Luis Bunuel (Adrien de Van), and especially Ernest Hemingway (Corey Stoll). He develops a romantic relationship with Adriana (Marion Cotillard), who shows him that nostalgia for another time is the path of least resistance.

 I loved this world, and the way that Gil interacts with it. There's a deftness of touch about Midnight in Paris. The philosophical musings that could so easily become tiresome and pretentious are eased by Owen Wilson's relaxed presence.

Wilson is the inevitable Allen alter ego. There's one in just about every Allen film. Sometimes actors revert to just doing a Woody Allen impersonation, which Kenneth Branagh did to magnificent effect (in a magnificently ineffective film) in Celebrity. Wilson here channels Allen's spirit, but not his persona. The film is richer for it.

Gil desperately wants to join this troupe of literary icons, and when he first starts hanging out with them, he sticks out like a sore thumb. By the end of the film, he almost blends into the wallpaper. Midnight in Paris, despite the fantasy and theatrics, is nothing more than the story of a man trying to get comfortable in his own skin. Allen has been toying with that idea in a number of ways for more than 40 years, and while it's easy to become nostalgic for the film-maker he once was, perhaps it would be wise to accept Allen as what he now is. After all, as Michael Sheen's character says, "nostalgia is denial of the painful present -- the erroneous notion that a different time period is better than the one we're living in."

That may sound like Allen trying to cover his own ass, but in my experience people usually hate an insufferable know-it-all because they know that 95% of the time, he's right. Allen may be an oddball director who never shuts up and indulges himself more than he should, but he is who he is, and that's all we can really ask for from an artist.

Midnight in Paris Trailer: