I took myself to a movie last night. I could have brought a hot date, but I decided to leave him at home with the kids. Besides, he doesn't love Paris the way I do. (This may or may not be because I went there both times we broke up.) Anyhow, my friend, Deb, told me to prepare to want to hop a cab directly to the airport and fly to Paris. (I fight that urge daily.)
I can't say that I am a huge Woody Allen fan. I never hate his films, but I never love them either. This was sort of the same... except that I love Paris, and this film was such a love letter to the city that I couldn't help but be enamored. It was fun, and entertaining, and although it didn't move me, it did thoroughly entertain me. At the end, I sat the through the final credits mouthing all the french names of the grips/costume fitters/crowd scene co-ordinators. I have to give myself a french name... everything just sounds more beautiful in french!