Sidney Bechet – Si Tu Vois Ma Mere
There’s a whimsicality to Woody Allen’s fondling and measuring of life’s curiosities and starkness, and it doesn’t quite sit with the claim to himself be the room’s gloom. Reality, however, assumes it must sit quite agreeably, probably in a cross-legged gesture, otherwise where would the movies go? There would be no resulting art to speak of nor cured curiosity to honour dead cats. We’ll call it cognitive dissonance or maybe we’ll call it just getting along, but Allen has stared the banality of it all square in the nostril and concluded only that it too holds warmth and humour. Have you yet seen Midnight In Paris? It may be the only cozy corner in this rather circular – yet undirected – and fatalistic world; an unhurried and spacious ode to nostalgia is Midnight In Paris and, ironically, a knowing nod to that disconsolate yearning to be a great artist among greater artists. You’d be a ruddy fool not to see it; a silly git not to feel it. [Petite fleur.]
I saw it twice. first time, in Paris. second time, home in New York, and I cried like a baby.