It was fun. Lots of surprises for me, and the kind of pomposity-poking humor he's gotten so menschy with. I laughed at myself along with the rest of it.
Notable was how little time he wasted in exposition. It was efficient right up to just shy of clunkiness. Yet its business-like work somehow established via a kind of offhandedness not just the basics of the dramatic situation but a kind of lightness of spirit that signal easy comedy around big serious life issues. And sure enough, that's what we got. Owen goes along with his improbable experience with just enough resistance to make it semi-credible but not too much to disrupt the overall acceptance of the universe we find ourselves in, along with him. And then it's funny with cliché and pokes fun at romantic foibles, and, sure, ties it all up in a neat enough package, which ordinarily isn't so great, but, again, feels like the right touch in this film.
One of the aspects Woody's movies I often love, particularly in period pieces, and particularly in interiors, doesn't seem so remarkable in this one--- it's that detail of production design. Not that they didn't pull it off, nor have challenges along those lines. I don't know from Paris, but it seems as if it'd be easier to do the floating in time there. Vs. NYC, for inst.
Anyway I guess Woody, to me, is the third thing in Goldilocks a lot. He gets it just right. When he gets it just right. Which he did with this lite but rich movie.
The main distraction from the plot for me, besides "This is fun," was occasional pondering the unlikelihood of my ever getting to Paris, and the what-it-would-take-for-me-to.
Laughed at that Hemingway, gotta say. Somebody on facebook the other day posted an image of an "inspirational" quotation attributed to Ernie, but, despite the short/simple phrasing, I don't think many who'd heard much of him (and perhaps actually read his stuff, too) would think he'd really said
But if you go to the tumblr site mentioned on that image, you'll see the source explanation: "Disclaimer: Most of the quotes that I use are not mine. Where they came from? The Internet and text messages sent to me."
In the movie Hemingway asks no such rhetorical candy, but---suddenly looking around him, arms wide, after a big swig from a liquor bottle---this question, which (we laugh cuz it) seems more in character with the cartoon of the guy we carry now:
Who wants to fight?