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Midnight in Paris 2011
A beautiful and very charming film that falls victim to ‘all style no substance’. Allen seems unable to write about his various literary idols and every beautiful woman in his proximity without them being enchanted with him at all times. I felt watching every scene with Owen Wilson that i was looking through a clear exterior onto Allen himself, a portrayal so obvious that ‘self-insert’ seems not strong enough. I appreciated the sentiment of the prevalence of nostalgia and dissatisfaction…
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