Film Review: Midnight In Paris [dir. Woody Allen; 2011]

It seems fairly clear that Allen will never give us another Bananas or Annie Hall (or even a Deconstructing Harry) but the best thing about his twilight films is that they convey truths about modern life with a gentle wisdom and a quirky, unabashed sense of fun. Midnight In Paris brings these attributes to the fore in its portrayal of a frustrated, 21st-century writer who finds himself transported back in time to share a few evenings with the likes of F Scott Fitzgerald, Hemingway and Gertrude Stein. The conceit is amusing and so is its execution, allowing first-rate performers such as Kathy Bates, Adrien Brody and Tom Hiddleston to show off their talents and chew up the screen. There are a few moments of lazy editing (there’s no reason why someone of Allen’s calibre should settle for simplistic shot / reverse-shot sequences) but they don’t detract from what turns out to be an enjoyable, faintly melancholy viewing experience.


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