“Paris” still a cliche, still irresistible
I have known many quality French people in my life. But if I had to choose a favorite, it would be my Aunty M. She’s not really my aunt and her name is actually Mathilde, but we’re close enough to be blood relatives and I can’t make my mouth lazy enough to pronounce her French name, so we’ll just call her Aunty M. A dinner party with Aunty M is a night of humor and beauty — she swishes her wine, takes delicate bites of her ‘asperge,’ makes sexual innuendos and laughs at her own European-ness. I think that I liked Cédric Klapisch’s “Paris” because it felt like two hours with my beloved...
