Magic in the Moonlight, the newest Woody Allen thing, just isn't that (wait for it!) magical.
It's nice to look at but fatally devoid of charm. And there's the surprise. How can a movie with that cast be so charm-less? It was just all unattractive personalities in lovely period costumes having boring out-of-place Woody-Allen-type-existential conversations. Life. Death. Meaning. Not meaning. Blah blah blah. Yadda yadda yadda.
And when Colin Firth's character begins praying out loud for the speedy recovery of his aunt, I cringed. And not in the way Woody Allen would have wanted me to cringe. I felt like I was listening to that embarrassing assembly I wrote in the 7th grade called The Time Machine where 7th graders travelled back in time and visited Stone Age people who were dancing to music by The Troggs.
But that's another story. And Woody Allen isn't in the seventh grade, although the film might have been more fun if dancing to the The Troggs had been involved.
I'm also wondering if part of my reaction has been colored by the reappearing specter of Allen's apparent fondness for young girls. If I'd liked this movie--because I did like Midnight in Paris--I would have given the fact that Colin Firth (my age) and Emma Stone (my kids' age) fall in love a pass.
But in this unlikeable movie, it just seemed creepy.
I'd be interested in your thoughts. It's truly a-ok for you to disagree with me. If you liked the film, you could point out its virtues to me. I like having virtuous thoughts.