Avenue Montaigne

I keep thinking about why I went on that date and why I feel like it is a situation I just found myself in rather than one I chose to be in... I sometimes feel like a passive observer of my own life, where I just watch myself as though in a banal scene in a rather unimaginative film or book about someone like me. I am watching myself doing things that give me no pleasure and that I have no interest in at all. They're not necessarily things I have a strong aversion to - I am not a masochist (I don't think). Most often they're just things I feel apathetic about, and I'm just passive and unresponsive when the decision moment happens and I end up responding with what the other person wants of me rather than exerting any will of my own. That's when I most feel like a character (maybe that's my problem...). I see myself playing a role. This fellow, who was a complete gentleman by the way (so I'm not disparaging him), wants me to need something from him. Like when he treated me to dinner and a big dessert, and when he wanted to buy me ice cream after the movie, and when he asked me if where I live is safe and approved of its nearness to the metro, he was being, oh, slightly paternal. And my job was to take great comfort and delight in that (the ice cream, especially). I dont mind that sort of relationship in principle, but this one is too artificial. If I had developed that kind of relationship, that is, if I had asserted some of myself rather than just adopted a role, I'd maybe take pleasure in it. But this weird paternal-older-man wants approval (and probably sex) from a youthful, possibly adoring, definitely grateful and sympathetic part-woman part-girl.... I can't do it. Not that that's all he wants - he's lonely and wants company like we all do. But still....

Speaking of playing roles, Avenue Montaigne was mildly charming but forgettable. The actress that played the part of Jessica (Cecile de France) seemed a little too old to play someone so hapless and cute, but except for that, the actors are all nice to look at and are decent at portraying the caricatures they are playing. Manohla Dargis of the NYTimes called it a humble pleasure. I don't think it was that humble. But it was a pleasant film. There is no story or reason to care for any of the characters, except for a few cliched nostalgic portrayals. I couldn't care less about the petulant pianist with the mid-life crisis. I liked the charming, handsome son of the art collector, not that he had much going for him though. The soap opera actress was charming in her silly way. Dargis also says it's easy to dismiss the film for its lack of heft, given recent events in Paris. But I think the film just lacks heft (regardless of whether or not it acknowledges any turmoil in the world beyond its own little corner). That said, the movie is like candy - very enjoyable while you watch it, but doesn't leave a lasting impression of any kind.