hhnd_2002

I've read many reviews here saying if you don't like literature and art, don't waste your time going to see this movie. I'd like to add something to that: if you DO like literature and art, don't waste your time going to see this movie (or you should just go ahead, like me, because you can't imagine how bad it is if you haven't seen it). The premise of the movie seems promising: a struggling writer going back to the past to chat with important artists of the 20's (The Lost Generation) in Paris, and he has an epiphany at the end about life, art, or what have you, but the whole thing turns out to be a ridiculous mess. I bet you'd be better off at home reading your Hemingway than listening to the Hemingway in Midnight in Paris give a speech about life, death, and whatever that needs to happen in between, though.

There are names that pop in and out of the movie all.the.times. Salvador Dalí, Luis Buñuel, Gertrude Stein, F. Scott Fitzgerald (and Zelda). They converse, they talk about life and philosophy and art, and it feels like History of art 101 freshman year of college all over. Except you can't really learn much about art or literature or cinema or anything for that matter in 2 hours, so reading the first 3 lines in each Wikipedia article will give you more information than Midnight in Paris ever will.

I can't believe the characters in this movie were so shallow and flat, especially the protagonist's fiancée (only 1 hour after the viewing and I can't recall the characters' names. Not that I want to.) She is just unbelievably crazy and demanding, but is that really necessary?

Well, I was wondering what the movie is all about, but I finally found out at the end because guess what? The protagonist outright gives a lecture on treasuring the present and not being so nostalgic about the past. Thank you very much, I would never have figured out the message if the lecture hadn't been given. Being lectured is never fun, but I particularly detest it in movies; it feels like the director has no respect for the audience's intellectual ability. But hey, if you know who Luis Buñuel is and whom Pablo Picasso had an affair with (and whom that lady had affairs with previously), and your friend doesn't, might as well invite them to the movie and make them feel bad for not knowing such important people. There's no better way to spend a Saturday night.

I have to admit though, there was that part where Owen Wilson talks about Valium and Zithromax and antibiotics, and being someone who works in a related field, I found it pretty funny. But it was just because of the drugs. Maybe I would have liked it even more if Viagra was honorably mentioned.