Midnight in Paris

Strolling the streets of 1920s Paris in Midnight in Paris.

Confession. I waited a long time to see Woody Allen’s Midnight in Paris because I was apprehensive about the depiction of the artists of the Lost Generation. Since I was a teenager, I’ve been enamored with the 1920s and the Lost Generation. So much so that I went to graduate school to study the literature (I wrote about Hemingway). And while I’m a fan of Woody Allen’s and knew he was fond of the Lost Generation I was still a bit wary. But after seeing the film I’m happy to report that Allen did not disappoint.

Midnight in Paris is the story of Gil (Owen Wilson), a Hollywood screenwriter who is visiting Paris with his fiancée Inez (Rachel McAdams) and her parents. While the others don’t seem to particularly care that they're in Paris, Gil is simply enchanted. Trying to write a novel that will hopefully get him out of the screenwriting game, he looks for inspiration in the city where his favourite writers once lived. One night he wanders off alone, slightly drunk, and gets lost. At midnight, a vintage Peugeot pulls up with a group of revelers dressed in 1920s clothing who invite Gil to come with them to a party. He accepts and is whisked off to a house where a familiar looking man is at the piano singing a Cole Porter song. Gil is then introduced to a couple named Scott and Zelda. Wait a minute. What?

 Zelda and F. Scott Fitzgerald in the film.

Turns out Gil’s nostalgia for the past has somehow brought him back in time to his favourite era where he meets and has discussions with the writers he admires. Later he and Adriana (Marion Cotillard), the beautiful mistress of Picasso who Gil falls for, travel even further back in time to her favourite era—the Belle Époque. Allen’s message seems to be that everyone always thinks that the golden age is in the past and never the present.

Allen also asks you to suspend your disbelief. Gil appears to time travel and doesn't question it, and Allen asks the audience to do the same. Explanations on how it all physically happens are not forthcoming and it doesn’t really matter because it’s all so much damn fun. Oh to be able to visit Paris in the 1920s.

Hemingway gives some advice.

As for the writers and artists of the Lost Generation? For the most part, the film does a bang up job. There were a couple of moments when Hemingway (Corey Stoll) threatened to cross over into parody (the actor by the way looked perfect) and Zelda Fitzgerald (Alison Pill) looked too young but F. Scott Fitzgerald (Tom Hiddleston who also looked perfect), Dali (a brilliant cameo by Adrian Brody), and Gertrude Stein (who I’ve always disliked but Kathy Bates did a fine job nonetheless) were great. I also love how Allen included real places like Chez Bricktop and references that were like inside jokes for fans of the Lost Generation (Gil to T.S. Eliot: “Where I come from, we measure out our lives in Coke spoons”).

Gil and Inez visit Givenry.

As for the others, Wilson was better than I thought he would be as the wide-eyed Gil, Rachel McAdams was fine as the materialistic Inez given that there wasn’t a whole lot to work with, and Michael Sheen as Inez’s college friend played the pompous ass to perfection. And then there’s Marion Cotillard who is lovely and sad and just so good. I think she’s turning out to be a favourite actress of mine. And don't forget the costumes. Sigh. If only we could all dress that way. 

Marion Cotillard as Adriana.

But, of course the real star of the film is Paris itself, the greatest inspiration of all, which always seems wonderful no matter what the time period.

Photos by Roger Arpajou/Sony Pictures Classics.

Happy Labor Day

I hope everyone had a relaxing day off for the holiday. I braved the humidity to walk the High Line and take in the last flowers of the season in the neighbourhood. I have a bunch of movie reviews and other stories to share with you dear readers and promise to have some new posts up shortly.

Photo by Michele.

September Shows Up

Ah, September. Your arrival tells me that my favourite season, fall, is just around the corner, and with it the wearing of my leather jacket and cute boots and so many other items that have been biding their time in my closet. I can't wait. Welcome.

Image from the New York Public Library.

Jacob's Pillow

I had to cut a trip to the Berkshires short this weekend due to the hurricane (thanks Irene). Luckily, I managed to soak in a bit of the calm and beauty that is this section of Western Massachusetts before having to hoof it back to New York before the impending disaster (it ended up never really getting that bad in the city but better safe than sorry).

I met up with a friend from Cambridge, and we stayed in the town of Lenox where everything is charming from the 19th century library to the free doggie bag despensers. 

Although many things were planned for the trip, the most important was attending Jacob’s Pillow to see the Mark Morris Dance Group (MMDG) perform, which we happily did on Friday evening.

As some of you may know, I simply adore Mark Morris; I think he’s an absolute genius. This year marks the 30th anniversary of his company and so I timed my visit to the Berkshires to coincide with their performance at Jacob’s Pillow, the summer dance festival that draws some of the best dancers and companies from around the globe.

In 1930, famed modern dance pioneer Ted Shawn purchased a farm in Becket, Massachusetts. Named Jacob’s Pillow by its original owners—a large boulder on the grounds resembling a pillow and a ladder-shaped road up to the farm reminded them of the biblical story of Jacob—Shawn planned to turn it into a retreat for his new all male dance company. In the summer of 1933, the company began to give public performances on the grounds and thus the seeds for the Jacob’s Pillow Dance Festival were planted. 

There is something almost magical about Jacob’s Pillow. Walking around the grounds with its quaint wooden barns and houses that serve as performance spaces, practice studios, and offices, it's hard to imagine a more beautiful or relaxing place to watch dance. Before the performance, we dined at the outdoor Pillow Café and enjoyed our wine while watching the sun set over the trees.

The MMDG performed four pieces that symbolized the company’s history: Resurrection, which was performed to Richard Rodgers' "Slaughter on 10th Avenue" and had the dancers in wonderful star and harlequin pajamas; Ten Suggestions, a solo originally danced by Morris himself and which was ably handled by Amber Star Merkens this time round; Dancing Honeymoon, set to a collection of popular songs from the 1920s and 30s and which involved, among other things, the tossing of folding chairs (no worry, none were dropped); and V, set to the music of Robert Schumann and probably one of the most moving pieces of dance I’ve ever seen (this was my third or fourth time seeing it performed and it never gets old). There are so many things to love about this company—the variety of the dancers (my favourite is Lauren Grant who is short like me and a complete powerhouse), the way Morris weaves humour into the pieces, the perfect melding of music with dance that is so uniquely Morris. 

The biggest disappointment of having to leave early was missing a visit to the Mount, the home of Edith Wharton in Lenox. The restored residence of the great author with its magnificent gardens is a perfect place to spend a day. I hadn’t been in a few years and was looking forward to seeing it again. I guess I will just have to return another time.

Photos by Michele.

Beauty Springs

Walking down Grand Street in Soho today I noticed that the CP Shades store had closed (not shocking; many shops have gone out of business in the neighbourhood). What was striking though were the large sunflowers bursting out of the empty storefront's window box. Their pop of yellow against the grey blue of the building commanded attention on the street, their sturdy stems unwavering in the wind. Beauty springs in unexpected places. And today, amidst the rain drops and shuttered buildings, it was found in an abandoned window box.

Photo by Michele.

Priorities

So we got a bit of a jolt today when an earthquake rolled up the East Coast. Being from California, I had experienced many before and was more surprised than anything else (earthquakes rarely occur in this part of the country). It caused quite a bit of commotion though, and we had to evacuate the building where I work. I had a hair appointment scheduled for later in the day and while I stood on the street with my co-workers, listening to them speculate on whether or not we were going to be allowed back inside (we were), all I could think of was "I hope the salon doesn't cancel my appointment." Priorities dear readers. Priorities. Eventually it was back to business as usual and the salon kept my appointment and now I have shiny locks and bangs short enough so I can see again and everything is right with the world once more.

Happy Birthday Mrs. Parker

Today is Dorothy Parker's birthday. Last year, I wrote about her life. The woman who has had a huge influence on me did not write loads of poems that necessarily lend themselves to festive occasions so here is one of my favourites of hers that is short and true, just like the woman herself. 

                                          Observation
                            If I don’t drive around the park,
                            I’m pretty sure to make my mark.
                            If I’m in bed each night by ten,
                            I may get back my looks again,
                            If I abstain from fun and such,
                            I'll probably amount to much,
                            But I shall stay the way I am,
                            Because I do not give a damn.