Paris-Manhattan

Obsessive particularized therapeutic prescriptions, erudite frank psychological stylizations, pulsating extroverted situational expectations, marriages, family, friends, professions, good food, neuroses, lighthearted delineations, let's observe, express, modify, clarify, recapitulate, integrate, qualify, diversify, riding on bikes, breaking and entering, wherein lies the lesson?, as romance precipitates, with room for error, Sophie Lellouche's Paris-Manhattan theorizes that Woody Allen's form can be refurbished with French content, alarmingly experimental, domesticating the bizarre.

Thankfully Woody Allen will likely be making films for decades to come, continuing to innovate within his hyper-reflective multilayered panorama, but at some point a time may come when no new Woody Allen film can be expected, ever, a terrible time, and someone will have to step in and fill the void.

In terms of compellingly merging commerce, sociology, art and comedy, consistently and prodigiously, no filmmaker has been more prolifically successful, and in order for the void to be filled, the replacement in question must be prolific.

That's the key to competing with while paying in/direct hommage to Mr. Allen and to do so on a high level for decades while remaining relevant is a lofty goal indeed.

Is this Sophie Lellouche's goal?

Don't know, but she's put together a tight film in Paris-Manhattan, adding her own insightful touch to the brainy perpendicular bravado.

There's a scene where while eating dinner characters from different generations working in various fields freely and non-judgmentally share ideas without having to worry about damaging social consequences in the aftermath.

I suppose I could watch it again and imagine Proust was there but that may ruin the effect I'm going for here.

Proust. Being single. Learning French. Never been to Europe.

Could that be the subject of a Woody Allen inspired double feature, after Mme. Lellouche decides to fly me to Paris and start working on a script posthaste?

The world needs another Woody Allen.

Mme Lellouche could be that Woody Allen.

She only has to make more than 40 more films.

Something like, Kermode in Paris.

Starring me.

Also a big Larry David fan.