There are films that make you want to travel — and then there are films that make you wish you could travel through time. Midnight in Paris does both.
Woody Allen’s 2011 gem is a love letter to nostalgia, to the dream of a golden age that perhaps never existed. It follows Gil (Owen Wilson), a Hollywood screenwriter adrift in Paris, who finds himself mysteriously transported back to the 1920s every midnight. There, he mingles with Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Gertrude Stein, Dalí, Picasso — ghosts of artistic brilliance and longing.
But beyond its clever premise, Midnight in Paris is really about the universal human habit of idealizing the past — of thinking that the best days have already happened. Through Gil’s dreamy wanderings, the film reminds us that every era, even the one we live in now, can be someone else’s “golden age.”
Paris itself plays the lead role here. Drenched in soft light and rain-slicked streets, it feels almost too cinematic to be real. Darius Khondji’s glowing cinematography makes you want to pause every frame, and Alexandre Desplat’s jazz-infused score ties it all together like a wistful memory.
Midnight in Paris is perfect for a Sunday because it slows you down. It makes you want to take a walk, listen to Cole Porter, maybe even write something — not for fame, but for beauty’s sake.
So if this Sunday calls for charm, daydreams, and a touch of time travel, pour yourself a glass of wine and let Gil’s midnight strolls remind you that sometimes, the present isn’t so bad after all.
