It’s nearly impossible to do justice to “Midnight in Paris”, arguably Woody Allen’s best work since “Deconstructing Harry (1997)”, without spoiling its marvellously crafted plot which is filled with ingenious, charming, funny and sometimes ridiculous surprises. After all when even the official trailer of the movie –Hollywood’s favourite method for spoiling the plot – is behaving so discretely; it’s only polite to follow suit.
I won’t talk about the plot. Rather, I’ll write about the pleasure of finding two of my favourite artists, hidden behind many layers of this masterpiece: the visual style of the Hungarian-born photographer Gyula Halász – known as Brassaï – and the vision of Persian poet/painter Sohrab Sepehri.
When it comes to depicting Paris’ nights, the influence of Brassaï is anything but subtle, as if Allen is paying hommage to this master photographer. Afterall, “Midnight in Paris”, is – more than anything - about nostalgia, Paris and the magic of the night, and what is more relevant to the essence of this movie, than Brassaï? Is it possible that the idea of “Midnight in Paris” appeared to Woody Allen when reading this comment by Brassaï?
“Night does not show things, it suggests them. It disturbs and surprises with its strangeness. It liberates forces within us which are dominated by our reason during day time”
Yet, I have to admit that the undeniable presence of Sohrab, and specifically the loud and clear sound of his poem “Footsteps of Water” (Sedaa-ie Paa-ie Aab) is as hard to explain as it is to ignore! Could it be that the Iranian-born cinematographer, the brilliant Darius Khondji, has slipped a translated copy into Woody Allen’s pocket, to alter the attitude of the nostalgic maestro toward the subject?
"و نپرسيم پدرهاي پدرها چه نسيمي، چه شبي داشته اند.
پشت سر نيست فضايي زنده.
پشت سر مرغ نمي خواند.
پشت سر باد نمي آيد.
پشت سر پنجره سبز صنوبر بسته است.
پشت سر روي همه فرفره ها خاك نشسته است.
پشت سر خستگي تاريخ است."
پشت سر نيست فضايي زنده.
پشت سر مرغ نمي خواند.
پشت سر باد نمي آيد.
پشت سر پنجره سبز صنوبر بسته است.
پشت سر روي همه فرفره ها خاك نشسته است.
پشت سر خستگي تاريخ است."
“And we can forget what the fathers of our fathers have done.
As I think that behind our steps there will not be life,
And behind our steps the birds no more sing,
And behind our steps the breeze stands still,
And behind our steps the windows are closed,
the pines are asleep.”
چترها را بايد بست.
زير باران بايد رفت.
"And we must close umbrellas,
We must stay under the stroke of drops of rain.
And we must take, all together,
the mind, the memory and the heart
to the rite of descending water."
English Translation of Sohrab’s Poem: Maryam Dilmaghani
