Woody Allen, "Midnight in Paris," 2011.
"Art is the antidote to the meaninglessness of existence."
The central line in Woody Allen's new film, Midnight in Paris, is delivered by Kathy Bates' convincing Gertrude Stein to Owen Wilson's equally persuasive nebbish Hollywood-screenwriter-turning-ex-pat-novelist, her hands strongly gripping his undeveloped shoulders. No, art is not a hack job executed by handsome hucksters jostling to keep up with the status quo. To keep a job. Or, to keep a Malibu home. No, art is the most serious of human endeavors, even when couched in comedy. (Hemingway: Do you hunt? Woody Allen: Only for bargains.)
