Gil (Owen Wilson) is lolling on some steps in Paris, contemplating his moderately unhappy fate when an antique automobile pulls up and no less than F. Scott Fitzgerald and Zelda invite him to join them. In, as it happens, the 1920s, in the City of Light.
Entering a James L. Brooks movie, I am always resolved not to be charmed out of my socks by the thing. But you know how it is—somewhere before the middle of “Terms of Endearment” or “Broadcast News” or “As Good as It Gets,” you get taken over by the film.