Minuit dans Paris

Merci, merci beaucoup, Woody Allen.

His latest film, Midnight in Paris, is-like many of his site stimulated films (Manhattan, VickiChristinaBarcelona), a tribute to the city and its charms. And let me tell you, a city as charming as Paris deserves tribute. What is most intoxicating about the film is the theme that one always wishes to be in a city during it's most magical time-New Orleans during the bebop era with Thellonius Monk, Dizzy and Clifford Brown, New York in the Jazz era, Chicago in the 20s during prohibition when things got wild-especially the women. Woody Allen's latest is based on a character's desire to not only live in Paris, but the Paris as he imagines it was in the "Golden Era" of the 1920's-Hemmingway, Gertrude Stein, the Fitzgeralds all captured by perfect Paris romance and longing to add their art to the Greatest City in the World.

Don't we all feel like this? Walking through the small streets in Montmarte don't I wish the flashing pharmacy windows were replaced by small apothecary jars and petite colorful advertisements for "cure-all elixirs!"? Instead of ramshackle kebab and frite shops run by hygiene-foregone foreigners, wouldn't it be lovely to see a family run fromagerie? During the film the protagonist-a Hollywood screenwriter turned half-attempted novelist-walks out of the most wonderfully lit brasserie and when he turns back to it, he instead finds a florescent doused laverie-laundromat. An all too common sight in Paris these days I am afraid to say.

One of the best lines of the movie is spat from the most despicable character (played by the usually so darling Rachel McAdams), but I love this line all the same; "ugh, if I have to see another one of those cheap cliche French cafes..." I hear ya sister. The "French Cafe" is on every corner and they-as far as I have bothered to research-sell the same menu: steak frites, croque, mixed salad with potatoes and hard boiled egg. It is not that these foods aren't fine and carb-full filling, but without desire to elevate, cultivate, or distinguish themselves, every one of these brasseries is exactly the same. Ok, that one has a red awning, this one is green. How I long for a "Midnight in Paris" where if I was out late and wanted to have a bite to eat I would not have to choose between the Quickburger, the KFC, or Le Salle de Diamant-an "upscale" bar with white furniture that serves a shot glass sized beer for 12euros.

I guess what I am really getting at is, thank you Woody Allen for pointing out that I am not alone in waxing romantic notions about the Paris of the past. Though, in circa 2011 I have to deal with McDonald's cups blowing into me in the Tulleries, at least I don't have to worry about catching cholera and xanax is a real step-up from snake oil.