It’s really not hard to be charmed by Midnight in Paris, Woody Allen’s latest creation and love letter to Paris. Probably anyone who loves the City of Lights would find even more reason to enjoy the movie. In a way, Midnight in Paris portrayed what I think is most beautiful and charming about Paris – the night.
The movie itself is very beautifully made, almost magical – in sync with the fantasy elements of the story: the movie opens with a series of postcard-like montages of iconic Parisian landmarks and then the picturesque lily pond which perhaps inspired Monet. The main character, an American writer Gil (played by Owen Wilson) visits Paris with his fiance and her parents. While wandering through Paris at midnight, he steps into the 1920s, and soon he meets Ernest Hemingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Gertrude Stein, Josephine Baker, Cole Porter, Picasso, Degas, Gauguin, Toulouse-Lautrec, Dali. In real life, Paris was the mecca for these writers, artists and musicians. In Gil’s fantastical escapades, the bohemian nostalgia is enhanced by the cinematographic effects of golden hues, rosy tints and warm soft lighting, which just made everything glow, and Owen Wilson even blonder.
Some may find Gil’s infatuation with Paris silly. But bathed in such romanticism peered through rose tinted lenses (and literally so), Midnight in Paris, to this tourist is very swoon-worthy. Suddenly, I wish I was in Paris again.