Tonight we watched “Midnight In Paris”. The movie arrived via Netflix and I wasn’t expecting to really like it, particularly since it’s a Woody Allen film. Not that there’s anything wrong with his collection of work but people either really love or adamantly despise his movies. I think this was my first, and if they are all like this, I may be a fan.
I felt like I knew the main character, Gil, as if he and I were of the same mindset. He dreamed of another time, the golden age of Paris in the 1920’s. He felt the romanticism of history and like an old soul, felt a pull toward nostalgia. You know I feel that way; not about that particular period, but about feeling a connection to another time. It’s purely an unrealistic fascination because I don’t dream of the lack of vaccinations or the uninvented advancements that accompany the chores of today’s everyday life; but there is a sense of simplicity and an appreciation for things as they used to be. He is treated like he’s crazy for his dreamlike longing and I can relate to that with certain people. Maybe their souls aren’t quite as old or they just lack he part of our brain that wanders.
Gil literally takes a ride into his dream time period and mingles with the likes of Hemingway, Dali and Picasso. He experiences quick friendships with that era’s most prominent and important creative sorts. Along the way he meets a fascinating woman and as he falls for her, she reveals that she longs for the turn of the century, and how dull life is during her existence. He comes to understand that his longing is not new, but that romantics have always longed for what is gone and what will never be again. It is obvious and likely that this is the case, but for someone like me who dreams of days I will never experience in a realistic sense, it is slightly sad. Dreamers don’t accept reality fully, because what would we dream about? I don’t want to dream of paying my bills or mowing the lawn. I want to have fantasy because it ultimately doesn’t matter if I have the right vaccinations in my dreams, as long as I fill whatever void I have with stories and distant time periods.