It won't give too much away to say that this movie slips back and forth between present-day Paris and the Paris of the 1920s. Owen Wilson (a sort-of inspiration behind Frank Austen in our Ciao Bella, by the way, though he'd unfortunately be too old to play the part in the movie version) is the main character, a goofy and good-hearted Hollywood hack aspiring to be a great writer. In Paris with his dud of a fiance (the only flaw in the movie - why did he love her?), he is able to slip into the past and meet with Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Stein, Picasso, and more as he tries to figure out where he belongs and what he should do with his life.
I've watched enough Woody Allen movies to say that this was one of his most delightful. I loved it and recommend you see it too.
And then come back here and let us know if you agree that he must have read The Sidewalk Artist.
After all, the movie - just like our book - begins and ends with the rain.