|
How dare I try to go
see a movie in the theater? I should have assumed the gods would frown
upon me leaving Hipster Jr. at home to try to go see my first movie
in years at the theater around the corner. As karma would play it,
my babysitter was a no-show, the start time passed, and I and the
missus were resigned to another night of empty calories and a fistful
of Excedrin. So I finally got around--after much inner turmoil--to
renting the film that had snubbed me (and cost me $19). This thing
had all the trappings of a cool-as-hell movie. It had the director
of one of the coolest visual movies of all time, Eternal
Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, as well as one of the stars of
Y
Tu Mamá También (for what it's worth). The previews
alone made me think that besides looking suspiciously like a Supergrass
video, this thing was going to be the perfect mixture of quirky
surreal love story and unconventional art fart beauty. I was immediately
put on edge (and would stay that way) by the weird fact that we had
a half French, half Mexican dude who happens to dream in English,
thrown into a situation in Paris where he neither speaks the language
nor seems to fit in at all. This awkwardness lasts throughout the
movie and really accentuates not only our character's alienation from
other human beings in general, but the people he lives and works with
as well. The gist here is that our hero often lives inside his own
head, and tends to confuse his waking and sleeping life. It's unclear
to us as the audience whether he's a schizophrenic, an insomniac,
mentally ill in some other manner, or just plain idiotic. Whatever
his issue, he can't seem to relate to other human beings on an ongoing
basis. His eccentricities are both his draw, as well as his undoing.
He meets a nice young lady whom he likes, and just as she is about
to fall for his sweet bizarreness, his sleep life screws with things
and he becomes a complete douchebag mess. The same thing happens at
work and everywhere else in his life. As he gets worse and worse,
ultimately losing control of the tethers that tie him to reality,
we, the viewers, also get less and less sure what is actually happening
in reality and what is just a dream. The brooding and sniveling gets
a little much at times, and the film could have done with a little
editing (and one less shot of male frontal) despite being only 105
minutes, but the thing took a chance to present something sweet and
sad and different. Gondry clearly loves papier mache and tissue paper
(you'll see what I mean), but watching his films is a bit like going
to a modern art museum with a really good tour on tape. [DVD]
|
Booze
& Grub
Hipster
Book Reviews
Music