Movie Review: Midnight in Paris

Midnight in Paris is a pleasant talkie film. By that, I mean the characters meander the streets of Paris conversing. Nothing blows up (well, maybe a relationship or two), no one is killed, and at the end of the ninety minutes, you realize you want to sit in a cafe, drink some wine, and watch the world go by. Owen Wilson plays Gil, a successful Hollywood screenwriter. He's working on a book and wants to chuck the L.A. scene to live in Paris. He romanticizes the 1920s when so many American artists lived abroad. His fiancee, played by Rachel McAdams, thinks he's crazy. On this trip with her parents, he's the outsider.

Owen shambles along in his low key charming way and slowly realizes the engagment is all wrong. Every midnight, he strolls a certain cobblestone street and the atmosphere transforms into the 20s. He meets F.Scott Fitzgerald and wife Zelda, Ernest Hemingway, Gertrude Stein, Cole Porter, et al - they are all living the bohemian dream. He falls for a French girl, played by the lovely Marion Cotillard. She the latest muse of Pablo Picasso, but she and Gil light a spark.

They discuss the times. He rhapsodizes over the 1920s, and she shrugs it off as boring. She desires to visit La Belle Epoque. Gil's time travel skill allows them to visit that era, and that's where she wants to remain. Alas, Gil's heartbreak and return to current day living does give him the oomph to say, "I'm giving Paris a try, and I'm finishing my book." (aaah, any writer's dream)

All in all, Midnight in Paris has snappy dialogue (written and directed by Woody Allen) and it is a writer/artist movie. Lots of fun meeting famous people before they really became famous. Owen Wilson's manner has us believe and enjoy his adventure. It's also amusing to witness Rachel McAdams play a total snot. You root for Owen to recognize her shallowness.

Say bonjour, buy your ticket, and fall in love with Paris via this film.

Behind the scenes: bifurcações

  Sempre que escrevo uma história tenho dificuldade em deixar de pensar nas seguintes, especialmente nas ramificações, pois acho que há sempre mais a contar, quer seja uma perspectiva que ainda não explorei ou uma personagem que merece mais protagonismo. Assim sendo, não é de admirar que algumas das personagens e eventos de “A Vingança do Lobo” tenham servido de base para “O Pergaminho de Fenris” (volume I e II) e “Cicatrizes”.

  Embora cronologicamente posteriores ao primeiro livro e recorrendo a elementos deste, os outros volumes são narrativas de direito próprio e não necessariamente sequelas, podendo ser apreciados sem se ler “A Vingança do Lobo”, pois faço questão de fornecer todos os elementos necessários, para que aqueles que pegam numa história de “Crónicas Obscuras” pela primeira vez não se sintam à nora (embora espero que fiquem curiosos e com vontade de lerem as obras anteriores, mesmo sem precisarem de o fazer).

  Quanto ao facto de existirem eventos anteriores à narrativa que a influenciam, isso existe em todos as narrativas alguma vez contadas, quer tais elementos sejam explícitos ou implícitos. Afinal, todas as personagens têm passado…

  

  Tudo isto para introduzir a explicação sobre a origem e natureza dos três manuscritos já redigidos de “Crónicas Obscuras” (dos Contos falaremos noutra altura).

   

  - “A Vingança do Lobo”, tal como o nome indica, desenvolveu-se em redor da busca de um indivíduo por retribuição e o modo como isso afectou a vida de outros, influência essa que, em última análise, verteu para “O Pergaminho de Fenris” e “Cicatrizes”.

  

  - No volume I de “O Pergaminho de Fenris” somos apresentados a diversos grupos, que no volume II confluirão para Paris, em busca de um artefacto que é referido superficialmente em “A Vingança do Lobo”.

  

  - Quanto a “Cicatrizes”, foi a oportunidade de pegar em personagens de “A Vingança do Lobo” que tinha deixado de lado e aprofundar outras, ao mesmo tempo que contei a sua história como se fosse a primeira vez. Como é óbvio tenho muito mais para contar sobre este livro, todavia, para já referirei apenas que a narrativa decorre em Nova York e que cronologicamente é paralela aos últimos capítulos do volume I de “O Pergaminho de Fenris” e aos primeiros do volume II, envolvendo personagens que abandonam uma história para a outra.

hilton, paris and more

I received an email from my brother, David. I think he was so excited about my blog that he forgot to use a comma. He wanted to know why he should continue to read this blog if nothing was written about Paris Hilton.

I assume he wanted tales of my high school trip to France. Indeed, a week in Paris and London was divine. From the la Tour Eiffel to Montmartre to Versailles, I was enthralled. Drinking champagne at the Moulin Rouge (ooh-la-la) at age 17,no less, felt tres naughty. I fully intend to return some day, with Ray, to ride les bateaux past Notre Dame, and stroll the Left Bank. Drink wine at a cafe and eat fresh bread with REAL butter.

Indeed, as Rick said to Ilsa in "Casablanca", "We'll always have Paris." I certainly hope so.

Sticking closer to home, last January, Ray and I stayed at the Fort Worth Hilton and played tourist. That's a fabulous way to enjoy a weekend - see your local city through sight-seeing eyes. The Hilton was newly refurbished and quite lovely. It was the last place President John Kennedy and Jackie stayed prior to that fateful trip to Dallas.

Anyway, the concierge was helpful and loaded us with coupons and maps. We strolled Sundance Square, browsed through stores, admired western art at the Sid Richardson Museum, ate hors d'oevres at Reata, and BBQ later. Wandering the Ft.Worth Water Gardens is a treat - an oasis amidst the bustle of Cowtown.

Slept well at the Hilton and appreciated the Sunday brunch. If you can't manage to fly to Paris ( and no, I don't mean Paris TX), then head to Fort Worth for atmosphere and activities.

I hope this post satisfies David's request.

And because he appreciates poetry so much, constantly clamoring to read anything I'm able to get published, I shall finish with the piece below. It fits considering the crazy wind that has howled here for months.


No Escape


Scrap paper whooshes past me
clings to chain link fence
splatted flat, it wavers


frays

disintegrates


Joanne