At my baby brother's suggestion, my husband and I made a run to the Redbox this evening and came home with Midnight in Paris. It's a fantastic tale of one man's (played by Owen Wilson) search to find his perfect — his place of contentment and confident creativity. As the title indicates, the story takes place in Paris … but not just today's … but yesterday's (the 1920's and 1890's to be precise), as well. Ironically, the protagonist's rose-colored view of life in the "city of lights" places him in a time populated by literary and artistic figures that found fame in rebelling against such romanticism.

As our protagonist moves forward in time by moving backward in it, we meet Hemingway, Picasso, Fitzgerald, Stein, Dali, Eliot, Matisse, Barnes … expatriates and/or key figures of that "Lost Generation" we lit majors know so well as a critical part of creative history. I love that ... just as I also loved the film's subtle commentary on humanity's struggle to be present and in love with our current reality.

Frankly, the movie had pockets of genius and then moments of disappointing superficiality. An insubstantial performance by Rachel McAdams would have been harder to overlook if I wasn't such an Owen Wilson fan. But I'm no film critic … all I can tell you is whether or not I connected with the meat and beat of a story. As for me and Midnight in Paris? We're tight.

However, what I find even more endearing about this movie than the movie itself is that my brother knew I'd like it. He saw it and told me it had "[me] written all over it." A movie made him think of me?! That's special. Made even more so by the film itself ...

Toward the end of the movie, Wilson's character runs into a girl from a Paris street market. He'd purchased a Cole Porter album from her just days earlier. When they meet, randomly, at midnight in Paris (duh!), she tells him she was thinking about him the other day, crediting another Cole Porter album finding its way to her shop. Needless to say, Wilson's character is warmed by her memory and knowledge of something unique about him. I get that.

That's how it felt to sit at the end of a movie knowing my brother knows me well enough to know I'd like it so well. I'm warmed. Still sicky sickerson … but warmed.

The point? Let someone special know you're thinking about THEM today ... and when possible, give 'em a good reason.



P.S. Definitely adding Paris to the short list of the bucket list!