We get older. It’s hard. Our lives didn’t turn out like fairytales. And yet, we push on. We live. We work. We study. We survive. Oh, how much it can mean…a kind word. A moment extra taken to be gentle. Humble. Respectful. Thankful.
I didn’t know what I was getting into when I threw on this film. I’ve sought out Saoirse Ronan films because I have been so impressed with her acting in Hanna and The Grand Budapest Hotel. Suffice it to say, some of her lesser-known films…I never would have watched otherwise. But it’s good. It’s good to exit the genres and areas with which we are most comfortable.
Some of these newer films…there is a trepidation which precedes the viewing. I wonder if I can make it past the first 10 or 15 minutes. Let me say quite plainly: this is a pretty damn good film.
Credit director and writer Amy Heckerling with tapping into a vein of stories which need to be told. Likewise, Michelle Pfeiffer was just the right choice to express the marginalized stories which come to the forefront in this film. Paul Rudd is a shockingly-good support here.
You want marginalized? Well, this film went straight to DVD in the U.S. That’s an insult. I don’t care what the market research said: that was a mistake. Film history will vindicate these pictures which were treated thusly.
Over the hill… 40. Women have it hard. And so do dudes like Adam Pearl (Paul Rudd). Teenage girls have it particularly hard. Saoirse really does a masterful job of delineating a tough role.
I will admit: this film made me tearful on several occasions. Jon Lovitz…yeah, that’s the ticket. Fred Willard…spot on. But no, neither of those two. It’s that look on Pfeiffer’s face when Rudd first reads in an audition. It’s the right look. Taking pride in your craft as a dramatist…even if you’ve been reduced to producing prepubescent pablum.
I’ve been in that chair. A lifetime’s work for one or two lines that might be remembered by history. I’ve been on that date. I live that life every day. Age. And I’ve been the nerd. Whoa have I been the nerd!
I’ve never lied about my age, but I know the industries where that becomes commonplace. No, I’ve never gotten that whole lying thing down very well. Yeah…me and Napoleon Dynamite would be best friends. I guess that makes me Pedro…
Ah, but belief… You can hear it in Bob Dylan’s new album Shadows in the Night. We never stop believing. We can’t. We’d better not. And Tracey Ullman is in our ear with the bad news…
You are right to be paranoid. In general, the world is set up to get you down. Globalizing…hah! Perhaps generalizing? Past aggressive. Passed aggressive. We hear the phrase and we assimilate into our patois. The phrases don’t come with user’s manuals.
It’s a set-up. I hyphenate when I please–when I’m damned good and ready.
And so I cry that I was human. But most of all we cry for ourselves. When the bottom falls out of your little corner of the entertainment industry. This isn’t Los Angeles.
Yeah, I can relate. With all of it. Trying on pants. Damn it.
Some people think they have me all figured out. But mostly, they don’t think. About me:
I don’t have a demo. I have finished films. Call Harry Smith from beyond the grave. He’ll vouch for me.
Beware of the fake. I just want to put food on the table. The only thing that can’t be faked nowadays is food on the table.
Fuck it. Gimme GMO. My high horse rode off long ago. Soft kill the shit outta me. You’ll never know the sadness of the streets.
And for that you are poorer. Consider it like a fine wine…or a classic foreign film. Oops, sorry: no corkscrew and no subtitles.
The Fonz reads Sartre…laughing. Eat your heart out David Lynch.
You should have given him another chance. You’re so responsible. You threw away a heroic love.
I stayed as true as I could. And now nobody calls. My emails go unanswered.
Yes, the time stamp gives it away. The BBC was 20 minutes early. WTC 7.
Suck away. I have moved on. No, I’m not happy.
When Hal Blaine hits the floor tom and snare after the intro…like the world comes to a violent halt: “Wouldn’t it be nice…”
We get older. Mother Nature calls it creative destruction…maybe. When the shit hits the tiara.