Sunday, June 19, 2011

Did I mention that I hate Paris?

I lived there for a month in a nice little hostel around the corner from Notre Dame.

I've been to most of the touristy places in the movie.

It's not my favorite city in the world.

On to Jason's "feelings."

Jason wrote: "Like I said, I didn't get all the references."

Right. This doesn't cancel my point. It confirms it. You didn't get all of the references, but Allen flatters you. He treats you like you're in the know with him. He rewards you with broad strokes. There's an easy welcoming flattery. At least we're not pedantic.

You're on the artsy-fartsy fringe, but you have some "basic knowledge" of the characters. Allen plays easy caricatures and hits a homerun.

"Does every movie need to be challenging?"

No. But, if not, it should at least have a guy on a horse, some guns, and a girl worth fighting for. Even then, it ought to ring of some (dare I say it!) moral truth in order to satisfy.

Not Hemmingway and Dali and a Mia Farrow look-alike selling Cole Porter records.

Did anyone else think she looks a bit like Farrow?

I don't think I accused Allen of pretension like you think I did. Is the film genuine? Sure. Like I said, it's a piece of bourgeois fluff for bourgeois folk. If I'm not mistaken, I think Allen earnestly means every moment of it. You, too, feel the fluff, I believe, but that doesn't mean anything to me.


I just can't "feel" it.

I'll always lose in a battle of feelings. Every time.

I can feel it in my bowels. I need to poop now.

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