Anna Socrates Reviews 'Midnight in Paris'

If you ask me which superpower I covet most, I almost always answer, “the ability to time-travel.” My desire to escape an unromantic present is shared by Owen Wilson, who stars as the protagonist of Woody Allen’s latest film, “Midnight in Paris.” Gil, Wilson’s character, is unhappy with his screenwriting career, uninspired with the novel he is writing, and uneasy with his materialistic fiancée, Inez, played by an overripe Rachel McAdams.

No one better captures the angst at the heart of contemporary coupling than Allen. On a spur-of-the-moment trip to Paris with Inez and his future in-laws—Americans who tour rather than travel, criticize rather than empathize, ride rather than walk—Gil’s disconnect only deepens when Paul, Inez’s former college crush, appears on the scene and rekindles a spark with Inez.

Wilson’s deer-in-headlight eyes, mouth frozen in a little “o," and drawling stoner speech are well suited to Gil’s mystery tour to the 1920s after F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald, riding in a shiny vintage Daimler, beckon Gil to join them at a party where Cole Porter plays the piano and sings. And from here on, anything goes.

Wilson encounters Picasso, Gertrude Stein, Djuna Barnes, Hemingway, Man Ray, Josephine Baker, and Adrienne, an alluring French fashion designer who is the mistress of Picasso, Braque, and Modigliani. Predictably Gil falls for Adrienne, who has her own nostalgic longings for another golden era—La Belle Époque.

The celebrity spotting, whether present day cameos or brief appearances of historical figures—is that Adrian Brody as Dali?—can become a little cloying—look at pre-baby-bump Carla Bruni as a tour guide! But the packed Greenbelt Theater audience appreciated Allen’s sly wit, especially Gil’s dinner with the Surrealists.

Woody Allen’s love letter to Paris—and this is a love letter—as the sepia postcard views of Paris in the opening credits make clear, is much more upbeat and hopeful than his recent “Vicky, Christina, Barcelona.” I’d give this three and a half popcorns, but with no butter, please, because I’m going to be scouring eBay for a vintage beaded 1920s Parisian frock.