I always have high hopes when it comes to Woody Allen films.

But in recent years, I've more often than not been disappointed by beautifully shot films about principally mean people which only reinforce my slight (depending on the day of the week) disenchantment with humankind.

Midnight in Paris was a glorious breath of fresh air however. As it was packed with The Mean but in the empathy-inviting epicentre, we have a slightly bumbling slightly cynical but ultimately full of sweetness Owen Wilson. Who entirely made up for all the superficial sillies surrounding him.

In fact, he seemed all the sweeter on account of his superficial surrounds.
So the twist - for there was one, albeit a fairly early doors twist - was all the more glorious for it.

I shan't tell you more than that as it would spoil it for you if you go see. But be assured that Owen is delightful. Marion Cotillard - well, I want to be her. And the shining entourage including - whatsername - the short lady made the whole hour and one half a wonderful enormously fun beautifully set and beautifully clad romp.

Me thinks I have a theme for new year.