Give Me a Woody

"All cowardice comes from not loving or not loving well."

Not many films satisfy my inner art geek, my inner literature geek and my inner hopeless romantic, but I'd have to say that Woody Allen's "Midnight in Paris" did the trick.

A girlfriend had suggested we see it tonight but then took a spill, putting her on crutches, so I ended up at a romantic comedy by myself. So what else is new?

For a Sunday night, the theater drew a good-sized crowd of mostly couples and post-twenty-somethings, so I at least fit into one subgroup.

To my delight, the time-travelling plot delivered all kinds of characters from art history like Picasso, Man Ray, Lautrec, Dali, Gauguin and Matisse.

Scratching my literature itch were F. Scott Fitzgerald (and Zelda), Hemingway and T.S. Elliott.

Along the way, we also got portrayals of Gertrude Stein, Luis Brunel and Cole Porter. What an era.

Of course, the entire film is a love letter to the city of Paris, which I've not yet seen, but shot so as to make it utterly desirable for so much more than just art and food.

As one who always enjoyed Woody Allen's acting, it was a pleasure to watch Owen Wilson do a superb Allen imitation, right down to cadence and delivery.

Surfer dude channels NYC nebbish and totally makes it work.

And as if I needed any reinforcement, the film's message about following your dreams in life and love got me all choked up about the here and now.

My here and now.

I pulled out of it by reminding myself that I am many things (nerdy, talkative, inquisitive and ever-hopeful)  but not a coward.

Why love if not well?