Midnight in Paris

Once upon a time, as a French BA Hons student, with a tendency to quirkiness (eh oui!), the latest Woody Allen was a must-see and an eagerly awaited treat, for me, and for many of my contemporaries; post-viewing we analysed it to the hilt, mostly among like-minded enthusiasts.  Then, all of a sudden, (or so it seemed) my passion waned (for a considerable while) until Woody's current oeuvre intrigued, and enticed, me back... to the big screen.

Midnight in Paris is a vibrantly shot, imaginative outing, a tender billet-doux to the city of dreams and the literary and artistic icons inspired by it.

Owen Wilson plays an impressively updated Woody-alike - with an offbeat charisma and allure.  The stellar cast - featuring characters of renown - including Pablo Picasso, Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald, Ernest Hemingway, Gertrude Stein, et al, contribute to the deeply evocative vibe, cleverly transporting the viewer and Gil (aka Owen-Woody) to 1920s champagne-suffused, angst-ridden, joyous Paris (once the clock strikes midnight, bien sur).

Artist's muse, Adriana (charming, former Piaf-esque, Marion Cotillard), along with her string of admirers, adds intrigue and allure, ensuring that real life (2010 Paris) can't quite compete. Gil's (aka Owen Wilson) fiancée is no match for the gaiety and excitement offered by inhabitants of earlier decades.

It may not be difficult to predict the outcome, but the journey doesn't disappoint, and I confess, I'd be happy to see (and relish) the film again, at short notice...

Photos courtesy of Sony Pictures Classics 
(Pic 1 shows Marion Cotillard and Owen Wilson - as Adriana and Gil - strolling late-night '20s Paris)
(Pic 2 shows Woody and Owen mid-shoot)

West Sussex Sunshine Secrets...

Late July on West Wittering beach.  A beautifully warm, sunny day; the temperatures - and mood - could have matched the Med, or the Aegean.  The crowds were there: families, singles, couples, groups of all ages and nationalities.  Where are they in this photo?  Well, the secret is that if you turn to the left, as you arrive, rather than the right, there are plenty of wonderful, almost secluded, havens to be found.

If you're lucky, you might also spot the horses wandering serenely by the shore, after their ride-out.

Sky Blue Pink, again...

Yesterday's world of news was full of gloom, so, I thought I would cheer you (and me) with the beautiful sunset hues from my window, last night...

Amy, Amy, Amy...

Such sad news, last night.  As soon as Amy's name was mentioned on Radio 4 at 6pm, I knew - instinctively - what was about to come.  Tragically, and horrifyingly, it wasn't a huge surprise - even though it had a massively shocking impact. I felt a lump in my throat...

I remember the first time I heard her, on a London radio station - on a Saturday morning, in 2003 -  just before her fabulous debut album was released.  Such a fresh talent, a down-to-earth North London girl; she appeared untarnished, then.  A stunningly beautiful, deeply powerful, naturally unpretentious voice.  I bought Frank as soon as I could and played it almost non-stop, recommending it to others whenever I had the chance!  It's still a brilliantly fresh, vibrant album.

It took a (short) while longer for the whole world to catch onto Amy's magnificence, with the overwhelming, omnipresent success of Back to Black.  We all know, too well, of how celebrity seemed to accelerate Amy's fall into habits and company that did her no good.  Painful to watch and to learn about.  You wanted to scream at her "Stop, Amy, stop!".

I still recollect, all too vividly, the wretched image of her piteous bleeding toes.  Recent reports of her sorry state on stage were distressing to hear.  I, for one, simply felt deeply sad for her.  She seemed on an unstoppable course... yet, there appeared to be a very faint glimmer of hope that her strength would shine through and just perhaps she would overcome the demons dragging her down.  RIP, Amy Winehouse.  You will be missed.

Status: Quo Vadis - a London restaurant review

A pleasant tuesday evening, at the footnote of May and I was invited to dine at Quo Vadis, in Dean Street.  With keen anticipation, I climbed Hungerford Bridge (heading from Waterloo towards Soho) as my last visit to Quo's upstairs club, for a cocktail event, had been a true delight.  At 8pm, the restaurant was buzzing - impressive for the day after a Bank Holiday, considering reined-in times and the surrounding competition.

No vast menus to peruse but seemingly a decent choice, although I was denied the grilled fish I would have chosen.  (Informed by the charmless, unsmiling maitre d', that it was only possible to grill meat as "fish would fall through the grill plates"  - hmm...)   Desiring something light, I opted for two starters, instead. 

The first was the pretty, circular creation, you see above: a sea bass ceviche (interspersed with avocado, tomato and oh-so-trendy micro herbs). The cubes of sea bass were larger than I anticipated (finer slices would have been more fitting, in my opinion) but it was quite tasty - without making me crave more.  I had to ask for my glass of Vermentino, as it had still not arrived by the time I was mid-way through the plateful.  The wine, when it finally came, was good: refreshingly aromatic, perfectly dry with light acidity.  My companions both started with artichoke vinaigrette - which they enjoyed - the dressing more akin to a hollandaise, in appearance, the taste deeply mustardy.

My next starter (as main) of a petite crab salad - included a couple of 'bonus' stray shards of dangerously crunchy shell - scattered with the omnipresent micro-herb garnish.  I must confess that I was considerably more impressed by the Marks and Spencer crab salad, I enjoyed, at home, last week... My fellow table diners had the spotted ray, with curly kale and the battered haddock, with mushy peas and chips.  The ray was pronounced delicious, the kale optimally dressed with lemon - healthfully tasty; the haddock very mediocre - properly cooked in parts and undercooked in others.

We decided against dessert, selecting instead a mini sweet-mouthful, in the form of the Petits Fours selection (for which they cheekily charge £3.70, for four little pieces).  Overall rating 6.5 out of 10 - not appalling but a disappointment - could do (much) better, especially in the area and at the price...