Saturday, 6 February 2010

(127) Days of Summer

Everyone’s favourite movie of recent times seems to be (500) Days of Summer. It pretends to be this movie that appeals to the nerdy romantic, the type of guy who normally wouldn’t see a movie that for all intents and purposes is a chic flick. After all, it stars the supposed sex symbol for geeks Zooey Deschenel, whose casting seems designed to draw in the indie music festival crowd. It is meant to chronicle the type of relationships that guys like me are meant to have. Is this why this particular movie was so painful for me to watch?

Ben Gibbard can have Zooey. Sure she has her charms, but me I’m not so keen. It’s more a case of what the movie represents that troubles me. It lost me at the MGM type musical number. Everything is so bright and wonderful that the dude is literally dancing down the street. She’s the girl of his dreams because she can quote There’s A Light That Never Goes Out back at him, she kisses him impulsively in the copy room because she feels like it. He falls in love with her. Then they agree to fuck, friends with benefits style, because she wants to keep things 'casual' and he doesn’t. Yet he does it anyway because he knows that’s the best he’s ever going to get with her. What kind of shit is this? She’s a bitch.

A supposed love story for our generation. It is a propaganda piece. Even more so because of the film’s too cute, scream at the screen in frustration ending. I saw this movie about three or four weeks ago and it still riles me up with uncontrollable anger just thinking about it now. You all know why don’t you? It should be obvious.

This could actually be my life. (Except for the sex naturally)

I’ve done the crippled version of that MGM number (‘Hot Wheel Shuffle’?) I have even said that There’s A Light That Never Goes Out is possibly my ideal of what a love song should represent, the part that gets quoted by Summer in particular. I go to work with my IPOD attached as my life support system just like the protagonist douchebag. I may as well go work for a greeting card company now.

I had a Summer. Far from the ideal of romantic virtue they are in reality blood sucking ruthless creatures that eats guys like me for breakfast. It takes more than a dialogue free trip to IKEA to damage you. You certainly don’t meet up with them on a train, and rekindle those feelings at a wedding and maintain an amicable friendship. Instead you cry in front of your computer while composing a too literate by half email listening to an ITunes playlist of songs that remind you of her. You sit at your desk constantly looking at your Google Notifer, until the reply comes that says ‘lets be friends’ but really means ‘time to go stalk someone else you fucking idiot’.

The movie suggests that the viewer should look upon the whole experience with a degree of fondness, a stepping stone on the path to meet your ‘Autumn’ (yes really). My Summer I now look upon as a necessary evil, a timely reminder never to wonder down that path again. You can be rest assured she won’t be married. Summer will always be Summer to everyone and everybody, because she is the worst type of love interest. I hope she gets genital warts.

I deserve better. And so do you.

Update 22/06/13 Someone I trust urged me to take a second look at this movie. Almost 3.5 years (and one more Summer) later I lasted 31 minutes before I wanted to kick the living shit out of the computer. I'm never ever taking film recommendations from this person again.

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