Aww girl, like I said, I’ve been trying not to rain on the parade because lots of smart people whom I like liked the movie. But it just rubbed me all the wrong ways. Rachel McAdams’ character was such a two dimensional harpy, and the girl Owen Wilson walks off with in the end seemed to have no personality outside their one shared interest, plus looks about 18. And I found Owen Wilson’s character dopey and exasperating (but I’m supposed to believe that gorgeous women keep finding him irresistible), and I resent their portrayals of almost all of the 20s scene figures (though I liked the movie’s F. Scott); the way they did Hemingway broke my heart/plunges me into anger. For a movie that ostensibly was about how great Paris is, it didn’t feel like my Paris to me. It felt like a tacky, flashy imitation of Paris. And I love the Paris, and I love those writers and artists, but to me it feels like a beautiful, proud, sometimes difficult and very much real city, and I felt as if the movie made it out to be a mystical fantasy playground for grownups, full of the misappropriated shells of Modernists I care about. Plus, in what I acknowledge is an irrational irritation, the Polidor is one of my favorite spots and now it will be overrun with tourists forever and ever. So it really did not work for me, but I totally understand that I’m the disgruntled curmudgeon on the outside of the Midnight In Paris party—I’ve just been trying not to crash it. :[
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