To Rome With Love, or Lingering Alec Baldwin.

Midnight In Paris ruined everything.  I went to see To Rome with Love today and, believe it or not, there were other people in the theater.  It was terrifying.  Can you imagine sitting alongside fifty or so elderly couples who are actually laughing at the trailer for Hope Springs?  May you never experience such horror.  Thankfully, To Rome with Love should scare off the masses.  It's getting destroyed by critics, and it certainly won't win any Academy Awards.

But it was still enjoyable.  Well, three fourths of it was.  Most of the dialogue misses its mark, and the characters have little to no merit, but To Rome with Love offers just enough absurdity to keep itself going.

Midnight In Paris, or a Rhinoceros.

Let it be known that I just wrote for an hour and subsequently deleted all of it.  Prefacing a review with ten paragraphs of commentary on the criticism of Woody Allen just didn't seem appropriate.  But, if anything, it illustrates my appreciation of the man.  He has no rival.

But no one wants to hear about my crush on Woody Allen.  Actually, I'm sure a lot of you do (pervs).  But you should also know that my love for Midnight in Paris does not stem from unconditional affection for the man.  You Will Meet a Tall Dark Stranger was quite dreadful.  Midnight in Paris is just a wonderful, light-hearted comedy.

Owen Wilson's nose is as obnoxiously bent as ever, but he's perfect as what has come to be known as Woody's 'avatar.'  He delivers Woody's dialogue well--though perhaps not as well as Will Ferrell did--for one of today's best known actors, and never nears obnoxiousness as Jason Biggs and Kenneth Branagh did.  Although, in their defense, they did play more neurotic roles (in Anything Else and Celebrity, respectively).  There's no neurosis here, just nostalgia.