A hack Hollywood script writer (Owen Wilson) on vacation in Paris reflects on choosing money and easy writing over literature. As he wanders Paris, away from his fiancee he keeps finding himself transported back to the 20s when Paris was alive with the great artists of the century, all of whom he manages to bump into.
For a film meditating on missed opportunity and the elusive better time, always in the past, this is surprisingly playful upbeat fare from Woody Allen. Had he himself been playing this role in the golden age of his great film making days, our author would surely have been a much more mournful and tortured soul. But with Wilson you get instead a slightly dazed character, alive with optimism but wracked with Allen's trademark neurosis, a refreshing variation.
There is light and frivolous romance, moments of farce and dialogue that sparks throughout. Each 20's artist is dashed off as a charicature lending each one a great deal of humour while still revering their art. The films reflections on life and art are made simply without contrivance leaving it much like a good chocolate mousse, insubstantial but light, rich and satisfying.
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