I wish it were Sunday ... -- #934
So if I'm updating this blog every day, in theory, Monday's are going to be "Monday Movie Madness" Day. We're devoting the awful start of the week toward the movies I saw over the weekend, movies I'd like to see, movies I don't, and occasionally one of my staple sources of humor, the classic review of a movie I didn't see.
A few months ago I stumbled onto this article by Chuck Klosterman about "new" filmmaker Andrew Bujalski. I say "stumble" because I have no idea what brought this article to my attention, seeing as how I don't read anymore. I mean, I should read: I'm in my mid-thirties, I'm semi-smart and overeducated, and I enjoy telling other people what they should think about things. But I don't read. I'm socially immature so I still get a kick out of spending my free time with video games and masturbation, and law school has crushed my will do to any reading unless billable hours or career advancement is involved. Ironically enough, the last full book that I read was Klosterman's "Killing Yourself to Live" which after finishing I resolved that books simply weren't worth the effort anymore. I don't have anything against Chuck K. per se. In many ways, he's a successful version of me, saying the things that I more or less think. Only he's getting paid to do it, and by that fact alone, in the words of Snoop Dogg, he can suck a big fat dick.
Anyway, he wrote this article about Bujalski, who I never heard of at the time and just assumed Klosterman met in a bar one night and, tapped of ideas on deadline, he decided to pimp. I'm intrigued, I guess, so his movies make it to the Netflix queue, which is so backed up that it has all the credibility of a yearbook photo. Movies arrive daily and I think to myself, "When was ordering old Truffaut films a good idea?" But I digress.
The movies we're talking about here are Funny Ha Ha and Mutual Appreciation. For a mainstream movie goer -- let's call him "my brother" -- these two movies are virtually unwatchable. The characters shrug through most of the plodding dialog (hence the term "Mumblecore" to fantastically describe Bujalski's films), most of which contains more "likes" and "you knows" than a trip to the mall. Everything is amateur and low budget, there isn't really a plot, and above everything else, there are no robots in disguise to save the Earth from violent destruction. My brother would be very displeased.
Artsy types would describe these movies as Linklater's "Slacker" with more structure, crossed with touches of Golden Age Woody Allen and the intrusiveness of John Cassavetes. So there you go.
Me? I feel like I'm watching a year from my life right after I graduated college, where I simultaneously realize that I don't know what to do with myself, I hate most of my friends, I'm incapable of an adult relationship, and like the character that chucks a beer bottle off a balcony because he's just been rejected by the girl he has a crush on, I'm not yet equipped to handle adulthood. Does perfectly capturing the spirit of a small percentage of young people going through a predictable phase of their lives equal good filmmaking? I dunno. Klosterman says the brilliance of the movies is that it captures those moments that become the basis of an ethic code, such as when the lead character of "Funny Ha Ha" makes out with her friend's boyfriend and then immediately realizes that it wasn't right. To this, I agree. I also agree with the point that there is something different about these movies, something special between what isn't happening and what the camera is catching.
But would I recommend them to other people?
In the case of "Mutual Appreciation," the answer is no. The lead character is simply too unlikeable to enjoy his struggles and choices, and it took me three sittings before I could watch the movie in its entirety without a mid-film nap. Not recommending it is somewhat disappointing because it contained perhaps my favorite scene of any recent movie: the lead character drunkenly stumbling into a weird party where he knows no one and somehow ends up in a wig, mascara, and a dress. This more or less describes my life at age 23.
"Funny Ha Ha" I highly endorse, only because something interesting happens as the film progresses: you fall in love with the main character Marnie. She's somewhat plain and confused, and hung up on a guy straight out of a Liz Phair or Jenny Lewis song. But in those moments where you realize that she wants to be a better person but isn't sure how, you fall for her resolve and willfulness. It has the beauty of watching someone develop their faith, even if it involves some skinny asshole with floppy hair who's amused by his own jokes. It's almost sad to see a girl like that sleeping alone. Yes, I have been drinking, why do you ask?
Anyway, I liked "Funny Ha Ha." I like movies where average looking white people have meandering useless conversations in shitty apartments while drinking cheap booze and acting like college never ended. I'm easy like that.
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