Review: Magic in the Moonlight

It feels like it was only last week that audiences were passionately praising Blue Jasmine, and here we have another jazz-driven Woody Allen rom-com to tuck into. Maybe he should slow down a little, choose his projects a little more wisely, and that way be ensured that every release receives the rapture of Blue Jasmine. This time, we follow Colin 'tortured gent' Firth as Stanley Crawford, a misanthropic magician who loves nothing more than debunking spirit mediums and séances. Crawford stomps around, crushing anyone who believes in other dimensions because he's a bit of pathetic misery guts. After a successful tour, an old friend lures him to an aristocratic abode which is currently entertaining a young mystic. Sophie Barker (Emma Stone) captivates him, and the two avenues that this film can explore are by now fairly obvious: 1) Is she for real? 2) Will Crawford and Barker get together? Hilarity ensues.

Magic in the Moonlight is whimsical and feel good, with the now-standard jovial jazz soundtrack melting over the saccharine story. This is what Allen does so well - he presents the inexplicable facets of love (often impossible or problematised love) with a deftness and lightness of touch that any master magician would be proud of. This results in movies that are so easy to watch that you can almost feel the intelligence being slipped past unnoticed. Having said that, don't expect anything particularly profound. The driving philosophy seems to be 'yeah, love's great, it can't be explained, even rational science types need to embrace the reckless unknown sometimes.'

And yes, Allen's insatiable thirst for the Old World continues. Gone are the serious intellectual characters of Annie Hall or Manhattan, with their cardigans and earnest neuroticism, instead replaced by slick, bouncing worlds in genteel Europe. This time it is the South of France, although I think that he was unable to resist a Cabaret homage with the first scene being set in a Weimar-era Berlin nightclub. The 1920s also affords him the colourful sartorial glamour which Gatsby films use to such great effect.

The pairing of Colin Firth, established actor and affable English gent, with the younger Emma Stone, who made a name for herself in the drunken teenage masterpiece of a comedy Superbad, seems unorthodox. Then again, the protagonists in Midnight in Paris weren't even from the same historical period. It works pretty well, though - no Bogart and Bacall but perfectly believable. I would say, however, that Firth is weak in comparison with his past performances. Maybe that is because he is playing the nihilistic misanthrope too well, but he just seemed a little... annoying. His outbursts seem contrived and his speeches are boring.

Ultimately, Magic in the Moonlight is nothing to write home about, but it's profitable business as usual. Allen delivers because he's so well-practiced at the rom-com that it would be hard to fail. There are some laughs, a tight plot and a nice musing on love and life. Put Magic in the Moonlight in the same category as To Rome With Love and you'll be happy enough to see it.

'I see... a poor choice of headgear...'