Imagine the film-version of Coldplay’s “Magic”, except less depressing and no Gwyneth Paltrow. Thankfully.
Stanley (Colin Firth) is a British illusionist who disguises himself as Wei Ling Soo, but when it comes to being off the stage and believing in anything like “magic”, or “tricks”, he can’t help but scoff at the idea of them actually being real. That’s why when an old confidante of his (Simon McBurney) asks him to come out to a friend’s land to expose a certain kind of “fortune teller”, he doesn’t hesitate to make his move. That’s why when Stanley shows up and realizes that this fortune teller of sorts is a young, bright little thing by the name of Sophie (Emma Stone) he chooses to not be swayed by his attraction to her, and keep his eyes on the prize: Showing the world that Sophie is indeed a phony. However, exactly what Stanley didn’t want to happen, happens when he finds himself not only falling for Sophie as a person, but also believing that she could be in contact with these dead spirits she goes on and on about/with. But, is Stanley not paying attention to what really lies in front of him because of the idea of love being present, or is Sophie really who she says she is?
“Another year, another Woody Allen movie” seems to be a constant statement whenever we come around to this time of the year and for the past decade or so, it’s a statement that’s usually been said with a slight groan following. That’s not to say that every Woody Allen movie lately has been considered “bad”, it’s just obvious that when a creator begins to lose his craft just a tad bit. But then one also has to think: If you’re constantly putting out a movie once, or in some cases, twice a year, does it really matter how amazing each one is in their own right? Or, can an auteur just be commended for his ability to constantly have something new cooking up, each and every year, no matter how old that person may be getting?
“I sense that sometime, quite possibly in the nearest future of all, I’ll be working with the same guy standing behind that camera.”
Personally, I believe that it’s all about the craft and if Woody Allen wants to keep making movies every year for the rest of his life, then I’m fine with that. Just as long as they are more like this and nowhere near being that piece of crap known as To Rome with Love. Or Cassandra’s Dream. Or You Will Meet a Tall Dark Stranger. Or Whatever Works. Or Anything Else. Or Curse of the Jade Scorpion.
But okay! I think you get where I’m going with this now – not every Woody Allen movie is going to be perfect. But that doesn’t mean they have to be crap either; they can just be extremely mediocre. Which is exactly what Magic in the Moonlight is, except a hell of a lot more breezy. Most of that has to do with the fact that this takes place in a lovely countryside of France, as well as kind of having something to do with the late summer release-date this has, but most of it, I’d like to think, can be attributed to the fact that Woody Allen has found himself a lovely pair of leads in the forms of Colin Firth and Emma Stone.
Yeah, I myself would have never ever thought that I’d see the day where Mr. Darcy was paired with Gwen Stacy, in a film directed by Woody Allen nonetheless, but such is the case we have here and it’s very interesting in that aspect. Not because Allen plays to both of their strengths very well (even though he does), but because these two actually have a nice bit of chemistry that is able to get us out of thinking that he’s way too much older than her to begin with. In fact, the 28-year age-gap sort of makes sense in a movie like this; Sophie’s rather mature and honest for her age, whereas Stanley himself is such a down-beat nonbeliever in anything happy, he borderlines on “immaturity”. And somehow, with these differences in character-description, the two are able to craft a lovely, yet believable chemistry that sometimes pushes its way into being “too cutesy” at times. But not enough to where it gave me that sick taste in my mouth, nor that creepy feeling in my head of him being way older than she is.
Then again though, it is a Woody Allen movie and with Woody Allen movies you have to expect an older guy to be foaming at the mouth for them younger ladies. Such is a fact in both his movies, as well as his own personal life.
But anyway, I digress. Stone and Firth are lovely together and in their own rights, show that they are more than capable of creating interesting, compelling characters for the time being. That’s why it’s such a shame that the rest of the cast are either, second-thoughts, or thinly-written. The only real member of this cast that I can think about who gets to do a little something more is Eileen Atkins as Stanley’s Aunt; everybody else is sort of just there in the background, occasionally given a chance to say or do something that doesn’t make it seem like a total waste of their talents. Like, I don’t know, say when all you have for Oscar-winner Marcia Gay Harden to do is stand around her character’s daughter and be a tad feisty, there is a shred of disappointment that can’t help but be felt.
Oh yeah, total resemblance.
That said though, Woody himself is fine with just moving the story along at a sweet, pleasant pace. There’s plenty of darkness to be found here, as there is with most of his movies, and most of that comes from the fact that Stanley just doesn’t believe in real magic ever being a thing in our world. He believes that people want to believe what makes them feel a whole lot happier and safer about their lives, much rather than the actual, sometimes stinging truth itself. That’s pretty much exactly how every Woody Allen-character, Woody Allen has ever played, is, except with Colin Firth around, it feels more genuine, if that was even possible in the first place. However, it’s still Woody Allen himself talking, which is where this movie gets a bit more interesting in how Woody explores the idea of love and how, it doesn’t matter what else bad stuff is happening to you, that if you have love in your life, it all mostly goes away and can sometimes, blur-up ones judgment. That’s not to say that love is bad, really, but it’s just a fact of life that one needs to have. Regardless of how painful it may be at certain points.
Now where have I heard that before?
Consensus: While not being anything deeper than just a late-summer rom-com, Magic in the Moonlight is another charmingly breezy hour-and-a-half that can sweet and soundly be added to Woody Allen’s list of mediocre movies.
6.5 / 10 = Rental!!
“You mean to tell me that while I was performing Shakespeare to sell-out crowds, you were just a cell?”
Photo’s Credit to: Goggle Images