Midnight in Paris

Woody Allen has always had a refreshing relationship with art. He seems to synthesize and pay constant homage to his cinematic and artistic influences. He also seems to have a strenuous relationship with the intellectual crowd that publicly absorbs the art he adores. It is rare that you find a Woody Allen film that doesn’t rake the pseudo-intellectual elite through the coals and satirize their attempts to intellectualize art. The “academy of the overrated” scene in Manhattan comes to mind. Diane Keaton lists the artists that she feels are overrated, and Allen replies with, “They’re all great. Every one of them. Everyone you just mentioned.” He’s a man who loves a lot of varying art, never too cool or afraid to admit that he unrepentantly adores something.

Woody Allen wears his artistic heart on his sleeve in his latest, Midnight in Paris, which again finds Allen bashing pseudo-intellectuals with a classically witty script.  Through his lead character Gil Pender (played tactfully by Owen Wilson), Allen peers through the façade of his cool, intellectual, insufferable characters and lets audiences know that it’s ok to feel emotional about an artist or a piece of art without intellectualizing and analyzing.

Gil Pender is an American writer on vacation in Paris. He’s engaged to an awful, pretentious intellectual named Inez (Rachel McAdams), and spends much of his time in Paris alone – wandering the streets in search of inspiration for a novel that he’s writing. On such a stroll, he happens upon a magic car that transports him to the Paris of the 1920’s (an era that he considers to be the golden age of artistic output). Here he hobnobs with the likes of F. Scott Fitzgerald, Ernest Hemingway, Gertrude Stein, Luis Bunuel, Salvador Dali, and many more. The wide-eyed Wilson hilariously fawns over his artistic idols, unashamedly praising their work and asking their advice.

This world is contrasted with modern-day Paris, a place he occupies by day. His horribly stuffy fiancé, her friends, and her parents all constantly jab and annoy him to a point of insanity, forcing him to escape to the Paris of the 20’s by night.

As with any Allen film, Midnight in Paris feels autobiographical. Pender’s fear of death, veneration of artists, occupation as a scriptwriter and attempted novelist, and need for escape all clearly point to the widely known psychology of Allen himself. In a way, the escape in time functions for Pender as the movie theater functions for Allen. In many an interview, Allen has spoken romantically about the old movie-houses, and of the escape from real life that they give an audience member. Just as Gil escapes the “pedantic” facades of his reality through his time travel, Allen escapes through the cinema. Other curious similarities reveal Midnight in Paris to be a labor of something personal and close to home. Just as his best work in the lat 70’s and early 80’s, Woody Allen has made a film about what he knows – and it succeeds for it.

Ruminating about love, art, nostalgia, and death, Midnight in Paris is thematically classic Woody Allen fare. Stylistically, too, he draws from what has worked for him in the past: witty dialogue, simple cinematography, a jazzy soundtrack, and a well-cast group of fine actors. More importantly though, Midnight in Paris is a filmic recognition of the importance of his artistic loves and influences. The writers that influence Pender could just as well be the artists that influence Allen. He’s not afraid to reveal his influences; he’s refreshingly up-front about it. In the art world, pretention can oftentimes be the dominant characteristic. Having a discerning artistic pallet can seem to be more important than your actual relationship with the piece of art. With Midnight in Paris, Allen reminds us not to take ourselves to seriously, and that it’s acceptable, even admirable, to admit that we love a piece of art. There’s a lot to love about Midnight in Paris. The superb acting, hilarious script, and thematic touches all contribute to making it his best film since Husbands and Wives.