We’re not so much critics here as we are friendly neighbourhood folk at the ready with recommendations. Still, we completely commiserate with this poor bastard who finds himself unwittingly trapped in a real (movie) life rom-com.
As a fellow rom-com detestee (I’d take Two For the Road or In Search of a Midnight Kiss over 27 Dresses or He’s Just Not That Into You any day of the week, and at least six times on Sunday), that trailer pretty much sums up my worst nightmare – a life filled with empty, quirky romance, unnecessary, wretchedly timed rain and a lot of running.
Mind you, I wouldn’t mind cliched love triangle life, and could probably even deal with Bridezillas daily if it meant vying for and winning Matthew McConaughey’s attentions like J-Lo does in The Wedding Planner.
Talking through our movie-life trajectories this morning, and trying to work out why Act 2 is taking so very many years to play out – if I’m not going to get narrative resolution, I’d rather find myself a large French mansion, have the honour of looking like Delphine Seyrig, and spend the rest of my days wandering glamorously and melodramatically around Marienbad – I realised that I am living a movie and, sadly, it is not avant-garde.
Alas, no matter what kind of movies we love most, we don’t always get to choose. That said, I am somewhat pleased not to live in a self-reflexive film like Synecdoche, New York which, while an intelligent and intriguing film, does also sound a lot like twisted movie life hell. Or a revisionist genre film like Jim Jarmusch’s Dead Man. And, as much as I love Pasonlini, I’m dead happy not to be living out my days in Salo. I would, however, be okay with a whole lot of Terrence Stamp confusion if I were to wake up and find myself in Teorema.
And so, with movie life on my mind, I asked Dave what sort of film he thinks he’s living. He said it was either a Roland Emmerich or Hal Hartley film. Busy surviving end of world action/adventure plots as he so often is, Dave also spends much of his time being really cool and super existential.
As for me, well, I thought I was in a Miranda July movie, but when I described my daily woes Dave corrected me. Turns out that what I thought was a sort of slightly annoying but at least colourfully co-ordinated mid-thirties comical crisis is actually a far more neurotic socialist rant of a life.
As the kind of person who wears diamonds daily but can’t quite afford a can of beans for dinner at the end of the week, and who dates a string of assholes and losers but never seems to learn her lesson, it became clear that my life as an apathetic smoker who is always quitting is the star of a Mike Leigh movie.
If anyone needs me I’ll be down the pub.