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Beware Midnight in Paris

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I haven’t been back to France for almost 2 years now. And I thought, well, I’ll go see this movie, “Midnight in Paris”, maybe that’ll serve to quench my thirst and my hunger. Ahhhh, no such luck. In fact, it was a reverse effect. How terrible, how painful, how, how, how shall I say it, how maddening that I have to stay HERE while the city of my dreams stays THERE. Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Stein and me. Why not?

I ran from the theatre and raced to the nearest ticket agency -- alas -- they had no room on the next flight out to Paris. DOOMED. I thought, well, my next move was simply to get on the plane, that’s the idea, let them drag me off in chains as I scream, “Paree, Paree, Paree. It was my wife and teenage son who held me sobbing on the tarmac.

Be warned, you of Fodorite blood. If Paris alights in your dreams, both awake and asleep, then beware of this film. “Midnight in Paris” is gonna make you want to go and go NOW.

Enough for now, I have spoken my piece. I have to take my meds.

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