Woody Allen's latest is another nostalgic return to the '20s. Woody's old but not THAT old, a magic time for his parents, maybe. But certainly not on the Riviera in grand homes. The story of a magician (Colin Firth) who debunks psychics, and a sweet faced psychic for Kalamazoo (Emma Stone) is predictable until the twist near the end that I admit I didn't see coming. Then there are two more predictable plot turns just to tie the ending up with a bow. Colin Firth was very elegant, Emma Stone the kind of pretty girl from the Midwest who's bound to be much smarter than she looks. The delight of the movie was Eileen Atkins, an actress I see to infrequently, who plays Colin's aunt. They are given a dialog near the end that must have been fun to write and maybe to act, but which is so expected it's hard to enjoy -- a bit too much icing on the cake.
I'm interested in how prolific creative people mature. For a while I thought Woody was never going to mature but, staying out of this film, just writing and directing, it's a kind of dessert, not deep but elegantly done, a good afternoon's entertainment, not much more. The scene that supplied the title seemed superfluous to me, the title doesn't do much for me anyway.
The mid-70s are a surprise! Part of me remains in the 50s -- age, I mean, not decade of 20th century. It's a joy ride, new experiences land in my lap and I've become a better quilter, poet, writer than I expected. It's a rich life for a person never rich financially. Hey, this is what the mid-70s are like!