The past few months have been a whirlwind of activity followed by lots of family in town for the holidays. So instead of getting a babysitter for New Year’s Eve, we decided to herald in the New Year by staying in, making fondue and watching a movie by candlelight.
We settled on Midnight in Paris, the newish movie by Woody Allen. It was unexpectedly inspired and I really, really loved it. I haven’t seen a new Woody Allen movie in awhile (there are so many it’s hard to keep up) but count Sleeper and Hannah and Her Sisters as a few of my favorite movies ever. Woody Allen may be a strange fellow but in his movies, which are punctuated with his trademark hilarious, self-effacing banter and are shown through a romanticized lens, he has the ability to make the everyday beguiling.
It took me a bit to suspend my disbelief and fall into the story, but once I did, I fell hard. The movie becomes a love note to a fantasy of Paris, the artistic heroes that lived there in a more golden era and their muses. It is filled with gorgeous French women, pretty city scenes and the dream of engaging with great creative giants as your peer.
When the movie was over I was hit with a heavy wave of nostalgia for my twenties – a time when I was more observant to the beauty in everyday life, and felt a drive to chronicle the poetry of my dreams. Perhaps, it was triggered by an earlier event of the day: walking into a local cheese shop and being serenaded by Leonard Cohen on a record player (a musical staple to the daily doings of that time period – don’t judge, I’m idealistic). I loved that the movie triggered an unexpected spark in me and thought it was greatly entertaining too.