On Tuesday evening, on the train back into Queens, I was talking with Octavius about a comedy show we had just seen. We each gave our opinions on the performers, the jokes, the delivery, etc. And we explained to each other why we thought a particular bit did or didn’t work. As I stepped off the train, it occurred to me that we had just engaged in rationalization virtually identical to that seen by Holmes.

Now, obviously, there is far more general acceptance that comedy is a subjective experience than the law. Whether you laugh or not is a purely emotional response, and we accept that context is key. Yet, when a critic (and all performers are critics) reviews a stand-up album or episode of a sketch show or sitcom, they often seem to implicitly appeal to some higher ideal of comedy. A bit will be called “not funny” not because it just didn’t make the critic laugh, but because it was “too mean spirited” or “unoriginal”. But those terms are entirely contingent on the subjective experience of the reviewer. A critic will seldom, if ever, admit that they didn’t find something funny because they were having a bad day, or had been watching too much comedy too similar to that. In common conversation, such admissions occur more often, but ultimately we still appeal to some higher ideal of comedy. It is virtually identical to the legal thinking Holmes and Cohen discussed.

So, applying Holmes and Cohen style thought to comedy, I assert that there are only two questions a comedian should be considering: (1) will the joke get a laugh? (2) do you want to be the type of comedian that tells that joke? By this second point I do not mean you should justify your choices of joke by saying that you do “smart” comedy, or that you don’t do “reference” comedy. There are no good or bad comedic styles; choosing one will not make you a good or bad comedian.  Rather, ask yourself if you want to perform in the clubs/media that those sorts of jokes get the best response in. Do you want to spend your time with the people who make those jokes? Answering those questions is how you will become a comedian that people like and that you like being.

The way the voice sighs during “takes everything you’ve got.” The way the logo appears and sparkles at the most upbeat moment. The way the actors’ names are superimposed over doppelgängers of the characters, as if they’re all just timeless descendants of the bar’s previous tribes. It’s also pretty catchy.

One of the reasons the Cheers theme song works, I think, is that it sticks to a theme, rather than trying to represent the more superficial elements of the show it introduces, such as specific actors. That’s a huge difference from something like, say, The Facts of Life, which tries to sum up what the show is with a lot of weird exposition (“There’s a place you gotta go/For learnin’ all you oughta know”) and awkward cuts to its cast silently mouthing various lines:

Unfortunately, this approach continued well into the ’90s (way after Cheers had shown how to do it right), but for some reason, they started eschewing the clips of silent dialogue for, instead, placing the characters into some setting separate from the show. Step by Step, for instance, put them in an amusement park:

Two things: filming the actors smiling at nothing at all for four seconds is much more awkward than showing a silent clip. Also, how adorable is Angela Watson?

I do kind of like later Roseanne‘s twist on the idea – showing its characters at various stages of their lives around the same kitchen table, which definitely supports that show’s premise of a working-class family sticking together even as the world constantly changes:

Then, of course, there was the Friends theme, which finally perfected this approach. It throws its characters around some fountain, shows us how they would genuinely interact with it (I love the shot of Joey on a pool floatie), and backs it all up with a song that defines the show without having to explicitly say, “They’re friends!” Beautiful:

Of course, there are lots of great sitcom intros even before Cheers (Green Acres) and after Friends (How I Met Your Mother and King of the Hill – heck, even Malcolm in the Middle — spring to mind), but TV themes have played a huge role in dramas, too.

My favorite intro of all time — save Cheers – might be Freaks & Geeks:

In just 45 seconds, we learn all we need to know about the main characters, mostly by the way they react to the same situation — sitting down for a yearbook photo. Lindsay wants so hard to be jaded, but she can’t help but show up in a cute sweater and flash a genuine good-girl smile; Sam dresses in a suit and still awkwardly fucks it up; Daniel tries way too hard to buck the system; Neil puts on a show; Ken actually doesn’t care; Nick, wearing a t-shirt under a blazer, is probably stoned; Bill does what he’s supposed to do — smile wide! — and yet understands the futility of it all. All while Joan Jett’s “Bad Reputation” blares in juxtaposition, reminding us that this is a show about how we all do care about our reputations, almost obsessively, to the point where we’re willing to ignore our actual identities to control them.

There are plenty of iconic intros: The Sopranos, with its sweeping images of Tony’s New Jersey kingdom; Law and Order, with its unmistakable melody and stenciled portraits; LOST’s single, swooping title that still recalls the joys of discovering that show’s mysteries.

I am troubled, though, by a particular iconic intro, and that’s this one (BONUS: Enjoy the remixed bit at the end!):

Mad Men‘s theme song seems like the wrong choice to me. I don’t know what it is. I like the image of a faceless man falling down a chasm of meaningless advertisements just to land in his office chair — that’s pretty cool, and represents the show fairly well. But I don’t understand why the theme needs to be this electronica bullshit. I suppose, on the one hand, the ultra-modern song backs up the thesis that we can’t move forward with our lives if we keep running from our pasts — but then that just sounds pretentious, so I’m not sure it’s really trying to say anything. It just kind of looks cool and fits the visual style of the intro, rather than supporting any theme in and of itself.

Which is why Cheers still reigns supreme, I think, if only because it’s so simple: it says, flat out, “Sometimes you wanna go where everybody knows your name.” Yeah. I do. And I know I’ll be there in just a few seconds.

Open Mics, if you’re not aware, can be the most miserable places on the planet. You have between 10 and 30 nervous (mostly) white (mostly) male 20-somethings testing out jokes on a stage for between 2 and 4 minutes. The audience is full of the other nervous weirdos, often too nervous and jealous to laugh. It’s a stressful situation.

And yet, they are completely necessary to the stand-up comedian. Like everything else, in stand-up comedy you need to practice your material before you can expect to be any good at it. And practice only counts if you’re on a real stage in front of real humans. The argument can be made that other comedians technically aren’t real humans, but still it is imperative that you get this stage time to work out your nerves, timing, and delivery.

So if you need to do them, and you also hate it when everyone there is a dick, why aren’t there Open Mics that foster a more supportive atmosphere? Well there are. But it’s hard for them to exist, because all it takes for a positive atmosphere to collapse is one terribly shitty person.

I’m specifically talking about a situation I had at the UCBeast a week ago. I did my set- fine. The guy who went after me had kind of a rough set, which is also fine, since it’s a supportive crowd that understands that everyone has bad days. But the next guy came onstage and not only commented on how the person before him was “not going to make it,” he spent his 4 minutes harrassing a girl in the front row and telling her she was an idiot. The whole crowd hated him, and by the end of his set the girl dissed him and we ended up cheering so loud and for so long that he couldn’t get another word in.

What is it that makes people feel entitled to be such jerks? You are on a stage, for free, and have 4 minutes in front of a very nice audience to say whatever you want and see if it’s funny. That’s amazing! It’s truly a great thing that so many places in the city are open for you to do that.

I know people who have quit doing stand-up because the Open Mics become so miserable. They become bloated with these guys who feel entitled to shit all over everyone despite the fact that every ounce of “power” they have was given to them for free by a supportive group of people.

So here is the point. First and foremost, if you go to an Open Mic, don’t be a piece of shit. Be respectful of the fact that this is free and the people there owe you nothing. Secondly, if you find yourself in a situation where you feel like one of these bastards is trying to ruin your nice time at an Open Mic, do your best to be extra supportive to everyone after him. Make sure his disease doesn’t poison your awesome attitude. And, best of all, if you go up after this guy, make sure you really rail him for being a complete crap.

I am not a “Redditor”. I am not a “lurker”. Please stop asking me if I am. Please stop asking me if I know how the site works or how it is organized. I do not know these things. I have little interest in learning these things.

I am not against Reddit. It seems like a fine site and an interesting community. I have on occassion enjoyed the fruits of that communities labor, in the form of funny pictures and memes. I have nothing against the Internet in general. It is a fantastic tool, a way to connect people in new and exciting ways. I have a Facebook account, and am on Twitter. I will talk to people over those media. I have sites that I regularly check out, and I enjoy them.

But if we are talking, in real life, and you start talking to me about the Internet, I will leave. Please only talk about the Internet on the Internet. If you talk about it in person, the conversation is always the same.
A: “Hey, do you go to [Website]?”
B: “No.”
A: “You should! It’s really [funny/useful/smart].”
B: “Ok. I’ll check it out.”
The conversation always goes that way because I am not on the Internet when we are talking in real life. If I wanted what that site had to offer at that moment, I would be on that site instead of talking to you. When I am on the Internet, feel free to send me a link to the site. I might click it and check it out, because if I am on the Internet, I am clearly looking for something on the Internet. Maybe that site is it.

Also, talking to me about Reddit or any site is just a stupid move, conversationally. If I were a Redditor, what would we have to talk about? I already know about Reddit. As I am not a Redditor, we have nothing to talk about, because I do not know anything about Reddit.

So, don’t talk to me about the Internet. Instead, listen patiently as I detail the plot of episodes of my favorite sit-coms. That’s conversation.

The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson was in its last season; the last episode was May 22, 1992. Johnny Carson was the absolute king of late night; as good as Conan O’Brien, David Lettermen, and even Jimmy Fallon are, they are nothing compared to Carson. Virtually everything we think about late night talk-shows came from him.

Seinfeld was finishing it’s third season and would start its fourth in the fall. To put this in terms useful to people who don’t obsess over Seinfeld: this time 20 years ago was the two-part episode with Jerry having a crush on Keith Hernandez and George pretending to work for Vandeley Industries. The season ends with Kramer going to Los Angeles. Sure, maybe not the best season of Seinfeld, but probably the one that ensured it would be a pillar of pop culture.

The Simpsons was on the same time frame as Seinfeld. Again, in practical terms; this week 20 years ago was the episode where Homer and Lisa bond over Lisa’s ability to predict the outcome of football games. Every episode this season was funny but still sweet. Again, I am willing to concede that later seasons were overall better (though I’d say it’s more contentious than Seinfeld), but this season was fundamental.

Mystery Science Theater 3000 was also on the air. Holy shit was there a lot of good TV on back then. Specifically, though, 1992 was Joel Hodgson’s penultimate year. Whether you prefer Joel or Mike, you certainly will at least accept that Joel got better as time went on — thus, this was Joel almost at his peak. Two of my favorite episodes were from the summer of 1992: Attack of the Giant Leeches, and The Killer Shrews.

Star Trek: The Next Generation was in its 5th and 6th seasons in 1992. This period included some of TNG’s most though provoking episodes, like the one where they discover a lost Borg that develops its own personality and they have to deal with the question of whether one life is worth sacrificing to destroy the Borg. To be fair, it had some of their most ridiculous episodes, including a lot of bullshit with Deanna Troi, but that’s pretty endemic to the show.

Though it had been on the air for years at this point, Saturday Night Live in 1992 featured the talents of Chris Farley, Chris Rock, Tim Meadows, Adam Sandler, Kevin Nealon, Rob Schneider, David Spade, Victoria Jackson (in her last season), and Mike Meyers. Again, there have probably been better seasons of SNL, but holy shit is that an awesome cast.

Meanwhile, other shows on the air included Roseanne, Full House, Family Matters, The Wonder Years, Home Improvement, Tiny Toon Adventures, The Ren & Stimpy Show, Matlock, Cheers, with MacGuyver and The Cosby Show finishing their runs. THIS IS NOT EVEN A COMPREHENSIVE LIST OF THE GOOD TV.

So, suck it, TV today. You will never live up to what you were 20 years ago. Probably unfair, but there it is. The solution to that is clearly for today to get better TV today. Let’s get on that, everyone.

Historically, Marvel heroes existed alone. There was one Spider-man, one Iron Man, one Captain America, one Hulk. They had minor variations throughout the years, and sometimes spawned spinoff characters (e.g.: Venom, Carnage, War Machine, She-Hulk), but the characters were never replaced by a second generation.

The Fastest MEN Alive

DC heroes, have periodically been succeeded by second and third generations of heroes. Green Lantern Alan Scott was replaced by Hal Jordan, who was replaced by Guy Gardner, who was replaced by John Stewart, who was replaced by Kyle Raynor. Fastest man alive, the Flash, Jay Garrick, begat Barry Allen, begat Wally West, begat Bart Allen. Green Arrow Oliver Queen had his duties taken over by his son Connor Hawke. Batman himself has passed the mantle to Jean Paul Valley, as well as Dick Grayson (not even counting the countless other “Bat” people created in Batman Incorporated). The green pixie boots of Robin have been worn by Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, and now by Damien Wayne.

There have now been so many Green Lanterns from Earth, approximately half of the Corp is made up of Hal & pals.

These legacy characters have all but disappeared in the new DC Universe (with minor exceptions). There is and always has been only one Flash. One Green Arrow. Bruce Wayne is once again the only Batman. DC is attempting to make their characters more unique by having them stand alone. Conceptually, it’s a great idea, but practically, it leaves much to be desired. Gone is the sense of history behind all these characters, who not only knew each other for many years, but also worked with their predecessors. Gone are the excellent character moments where Wally West could go have a conversation with the aged Jay Garrick, and try to glean wisdom from his many years as the original Flash. Dick Grayson could reflect on how he’s not the best Batman, like Bruce Wayne was/is.

Theory: It'll only be 2 or 3 years until Peter comes back and these two have a teamup.

This background of characters has not disappeared. Of all companies to do so, Marvel has been the one to pick up where DC has left off. Where Barry Allen is now the one and only Flash, in Marvel’s Ultimate Universe, now the title of Spider-man has been passed from Peter Parker to Miles Morales. I haven’t had a chance to pick up the relaunched Ultimate Spider-man, but I wonder – how has it fared? Is Marvel going to push to make the Ultimate Universe a place where there have been multiple generations of characters each passing down their heroic titles?

Best,

Demetrius

Last year, my dad and I went to see The King’s Speech two days after it won Best Picture. It was, of course, perfect — and that’s what’s so Goddamn boring about it. A perfect screenplay; a perfect lead performance; perfect direction. I never want to see it again.

I’ve been preoccupied lately with figuring out why I (and we) find objectively bad or mediocre stories nevertheless entertaining as hell. I’m already anticipating the return of Survivor next month. I’ll watch the Super Bowl next week, even though its Patriots–Giants narrative is bound to bore.

Over the weekend, my friend insisted on seeing The Grey. “That wolf movie with Liam Neeson?” I shrugged.

“Fuck yeah, that wolf movie with Liam Neeson!” he fist-pumped.

I’d resisted even watching the trailer up until that point, but then I decided to watch it and, yeah, okay, it looked awesome:

After seeing it, I have to say the movie was pretty awesome at times. But the story is simplistic — a collection of archetypes and formulaic story beats that add up, at best, to a competent, cohesive screenplay that’d pass any college screenwriting course. That’s really as complimentary as I can be about its “objective” quality.

And yet that’s exactly why it’s so brilliant.

Once it gets going, the film presents us with a pack of seven survivors, among them Neeson; the soft-spoken, likable Hendrick (Dallas Roberts — whom I’d previously seen on the tragically short-lived AMC thriller Rubicon); a couple of black guys (“Who will die first!?”); a macho, insubordinate Hispanic dude; a guy who clings to his faith yet misses his little daughter; and another guy we don’t really get to know before he lags behind the group, falls in the snow, and gets torn limb-from-limb.

I guess it’s not much of a spoiler to say that everyone dies except Neeson. Of course, right? In any existential survival thriller, you can only have one survivor. Otherwise it’s just a buddy comedy. (Nevertheless, spoilers follow.)

They die in pretty typical ways: (1) the first black guy, charged with a night watch post, lets his guard down to pee; (2) Slowpoke McLagsalot falls in the snow; (3) the other black guy can’t handle the elements; (4) one succumbs to his fear of heights; (5) another — in a long, emotional third-act scene — gives up; (6) one drowns, despite Neeson’s desperate attempts to feed him oxygen from his own lungs.

To put it another way, though, they all die because of specific weaknesses in their souls. Here’s where the movie gets existential, and where its simplicity actually betrays its complexity: at the beginning of the film, Neeson, distraught over the loss of his girlfriend, puts a rifle to his mouth and, just as he stretches his finger toward the trigger, is interrupted by a distant howl. The wolves, really, represent the personal demons that led him to that suicide attempt, and the other men — those simplistic archetypes — are symbols in their own right, representing the weaknesses he (and Man) has to shed before he can move on with his life.

All those other men die to expunge Neeson of his various flaws: (1) letting down his own guard while protecting others; (2) refusing to put two feet forward; (3) never adapting to change; (4) being ‘afraid,’ in a general sense, of crossing the unknown; (5) resigning to his fate, rather than his self-determination; (6) not allowing anyone else to help him.

The film borrows its tagline — “Live and die on this day” — from a poem at the center of Neeson’s psyche. Like the rest of the movie, the poem, at least on the surface, kind of sucks:

Once more into the fray
Into the last good fight I’ll ever know
Live and die on this day
Live and die on this day

Still, the shitty poem ends up being absurdly relevant in the film’s final moments. I wonder if it could have been so relevant had the poem had any inherent meaning. If it were a good poem, it wouldn’t be so flexible, so adaptable to The Grey‘s (gripping yet somber) climax. And likewise, if those other characters in the film were anything more than simple archetypes, we would focus on their deaths, lament the loss of six characters we like, rather than root for the survival of the only one we love.

NOTE: I am not going to talk about the worthiness of nominees or what films I thought should get nominations. I am neither passionate enough nor informed enough to make those calls. This is just my thoughts on some films and why I’m happy I saw them.

Thor: Firstly, it was a comic book movie, so I liked it at least a little just for that (I didn’t see Captain America, oddly enough). But beyond that, I thought this movie was just plain fun. It was simple without treating the audience like they were simple. It was action packed, but the action scenes always had a point in the narrative. It was light hearted without being fluff. Sure, it didn’t make me think too hard about life, love, and loss, but it made me think about how cool it would be to hit things with a hammer and then shoot lightning at them.

Drive: This film is actually getting a nomination — for best sound editing! Honestly, it earned the hell out of that nomination and should definitely get the win. When I saw it, my friend and I actually discussed how incredible the sound editing was. That’s some damn fine sound editing. Beyond that though, this was also a good movie. I understand for some people it stepped on the wrong side of the line between archetype and cliche, but for me it was modern mythology. Just think of the basic plot: a demi-god (not literally in this case, but go with it) is humanized by a woman but ultimately brought down due to his new humanity. That’s a feature of legends and myths dating back to Enkidu in the Epic of Gilgamesh (and I see it’s also kinda sexist now that I’ve typed it out. Huh). I can’t say it was the best movie of the year, but it was certainly one of my favorite films I saw all year (including old movies I saw for the first time), and will stick with me for a while.

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo: The other film that I saw that is getting nominations, this time for a bunch of stuff. It was a good movie, sure, but I’m probably going to more or less forget about it in due course. It didn’t do anything special (except graphically portray rape, which is noteworthy). It was well acted, well written, and well directed, but not extraordinarily well acted, well written, and well directed. The most notable thing about this movie for me is that it is actually a movie other people will have seen and will talk about (I never see movies other people see — not by policy, but by chance. It makes conversation frustrating).

Attack the Block: This movie rocks. It is everything a good work of science fiction should be; that is, a good work of fiction that also happens to involve aliens. I truly don’t understand why this movie didn’t get more recognition, either popularly or critically. No one* talks about this film. But it’s fun and funny and dark and scary, all at once! That’s so great. It does a great job of portraying a community at various levels; the dynamics of the street gang, how they fit into the wider community of their neighborhood, and how that fits into the wider community of society in general. And then it populates that community with interesting, engaging individuals. And then those individuals kill aliens. Awesome.
* Some people talk about this film, but everyone should have been talking about this film.

So, yeah, I didn’t see any of your artsy-fartsy movies about movies, or movies with Brad Pitt, or whatever. But I had fun and saw some thought provoking movies. I even saw a popular movie. That’s a big deal for me.

Everett E. Everett: Venture Brothers

Since this question is so subjective anyway, I am going to answer with the show that most makes me laugh right now. That show is Venture Brothers. It’s full of obscure references and pastiches of pulp/comic books/sci fi/saturday morning cartoons, which is right in my wheelhouse. It’s got enough character detail and story that jokes can come from there, but no so much that I can’t just sit down and watch a random episode. There have been shows that have made me laugh more, but this show always delivers, regardless of which episode or what mood I’m in. That’s funny.

All right, well, I’m not going to be the one to pick something obscure just to be cute. Barring any interesting choices among the Strangers (Peep Show, maybe? Or — God forbid – Tim & Eric), this is, for me, a debate between Community and Parks & Recreation. My thoughts on it are this: Parks & Recreation is, truth be told, the funnier show, filled with a nearly constant stream of perfectly executed, flawless jokes appropriate to its world and its characters. Community, by contrast, often has a lot of duds and tries too hard to be clever, resulting in cloying or boring storylines. But when it gets it right — as it just as often does — it’s like nothing else on TV. P&R‘s jokes are flawless, but Community‘s best jokes are wholly original, inspired, and so clearly the result of the show’s exuberant love for television and weirdness. Parks & Rec is the perfect normal guy throwing the party. Community is the weird kid in the corner, who — when you get to know him and accept his flaws — is actually the coolest kid on campus.

Funniest show eh? I think the best way for me to do this is some sort of process of elimination. Well I admit, I have not watched a lot of candidates. Archer, Curb Your Enthusiasm and Bored to Death are three that come to mind. I’m also not fully up to date on Community (although it looks like I’ll have plenty of time to catch up…too soon?) but I’m sure my fellow strangers will more than make that shows case. I’m going to stick to shows that are still on the air so that gets rid of Arrested Development (at least for now) and Party Down.  Family Guy might have been in the discussion a few years back but it clearly doesn’t make the cut now (and lets not even discuss the other McFarlane ventures) and the return of Futurama has been underwhelming for me. I’ve seen a good deal of Big Bang Theory and I actually do enjoy it but it’s certainly not the funniest thing on TV. If we were choosing purely from sitcoms I think How I Met Your Mother would narrowly edges out 30 Rock and Parks and Rec (which I admittedly haven’t seen a ton of) in my minds personal network sitcom death match (I stopped watching The Office years ago and what I have seen recently I haven’t loved). Now here is a distinction. My favorite comedy currently on is Louie but I am going to pick my 2 candidates based on a slightly different criteria. My fellow strangers might think these are coming out of left field but here we go: The Daily Show and South Park. I am amazed…simply amazed that these two cable stalwarts have been able to continue making such good television after being on so long. I get home late a lot and the fact that I know that I can get home and throw on The Daily Show often makes my night and I can’t even begin to describe my admiration for Trey Parker (and sorta Matt Stone…I guess) for making South Park a fun and interesting show after all these years (something its animated brethren have not done cough Simpsons and Family Guy cough). Now The Daily Show hits and misses and the correspondent talent isn’t what it used to be but Stewart really anchors it and continues to make each episode worth watching. As for our animated friends from Colorado, You can sit me down in front of a South Park episode from any season (including the most recent) and I will gladly watch and that, in my opinion, is a great criterion by which to choose the best comedy on TV.

For my part, I adored this film as well. I’m amazed, above all, by how universal its central conceit is — that we all, and especially we creative types, constantly wish we could live in an era other than our own. It’s something virtually everyone has thought at one point or another, and the fact that Allen is the only filmmaker (as far as I know) to really focus on that universal thought seems particularly insightful.

Cheers!
– B.C.

As it has come to pass, when the name Woody Allen appears anywhere on a film, I will see it. My love for his seminal works such as Annie Hall, Manhattan, Sleeper and a million others have stood strong over the years and keeps me coming back for more. His more recent efforts such as Vicky Christina Barcelona, Whatever Works and You Will Meet a Tall Dark Stranger – though all as charming and witty as ever — have all seemed like new ways to tell the same stories that made him an icon. All relying on the same general plot points and characteristics. But his most recent push was one in the right direction. Midnight in Paris is by far his greatest film in twenty years.

The title sets our location as Californians Gil (Owen Wilson) and Inez (Rachel McAdams) are vacationing with her parents sometime before their wedding. Gil is a screenwriter who is taking his first crack at a novel and uses his time in Paris as a means of opening up his creativity. He loves the city, often mentioning how he wishes he could have lived it in the 1920s. Gil and Inez run into an old friend, the pedantic and ostentatious Paul, played skin-crawlingly well by Michael Sheen. While it becomes clear Inez and Paul are getting along marvelously, Gil starts to become more distant, preferring to embrace the city he loves by walking its streets at midnight. It is at this time each night, he is visited by the past for which he yearns so avidly. He is carted away to meet with The Lost Generation. He mingles with Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald, discusses women and sex with Ernest Hemmingway, has a remarkable conversation with Salvador Dali (Adrian Brody) and receives some feedback on his novel from Gertrude Stein (Kathy Bates.) But perhaps the most striking figure is Pablo Picasso’s lover, Adriana, portrayed elegantly by the always-gorgeous Marion Cotillard. She too loves Paris and longs for a time she never knew. We see both of Gil’s worlds unravel as we have come to expect from an Allen film, but with that aspect of magic his recent films have been missing.

Look at Paul, all pedantic and ostentatious in his pink t-shirt. "Ooh, look at me! Let me show off by teaching you things."

One trap that actors who play the “Woody” role have fallen into is bringing the character to them — playing themselves in the character’s situations. Who knows whether this is because Allen himself did this constantly while starring in his films, or because that’s just the way the man directs. Either way, it adds a certain layer of added entertainment to it to see how Owen Wilson the Actor reacts to being transported to the twenties. Still, there was nothing spectacular about any one performance in this film. The true star here is the story.

Anyone who has ever felt that they have been misplaced in time or longs to be a part of an era that is long past can relate with what this picture has to say. It presents the matter in a way that shows us that even though traveling to that bygone era would be a dream come true, it would be foolish to think you could be truly happy. There will always be a time before that time which would be more desirable. For Gil, it’s the 1920s; for Adriana, it’s the turn of the century; for Degas, it’s the Renaissance. At its root, this is a film about making adjustments, finding what works and trying not to focus on what isn’t and what cannot be there. And though at times it follows the classic Allen formula, it’s almost fitting that we look back to his 1970s oeuvre when dealing with a character preoccupied by nostalgia.

So for anyone who enjoys the music, art and literature of the early twentieth century, and for anyone who has a penchant for a time that has since past, and for anyone who fantasizes about how life could be if it were any other way, Midnight in Paris is the film to see.