Tuesday, August 16, 2016


It's a movie I just saw, about an aspiring singer in Dublin who befriends a girl, and they make a record together. [You were going to say, "make music together," beautiful music, but then people would think you meant sex.--ed.] They don't actually have sex, which is part of the intrigue.

On the other hand, I don't want to laud this as some wonderful example of friendship, because he sure wanted to. [Then you've never have been a friend to any woman.--ed.] You know, you're a real pal. [I learn from the best.--ed.] On the one hand, I was glad she didn't betray her marriage vows to do what they both wanted to do. On the other, I could understand the guy's tension, and what he thinks is pure luck of the bad variety. The writer messes with you a little, because he puts in the woman's mouth some fairly unflattering statements about the husband, and whether her family would survive.

It seems like what we might call an "emotional affair," though I find that phrase evangelical and weird, but I repeat myself. It stars Glen Hansard, and Marketa Irglova as the main characters, who are oddly not given names.

It's oddly compelling, as I might say, and I really like the music. I wonder what Greydanus thinks? [You know if you like it, he'll vomit all over it.--ed.] True. He doesn't know me, though. I can't take it personally. Maybe when he conceded that Interstellar had "genuinely affective character development" or whatever he said, that's Dutch heritage-speak for, "I adore this movie, but I cannot say that, as a Dutch person." I want him to admit that he was on the edge of sobbing in the movie theater, but he wouldn't say that, even if it were true. I digress.

Good film, good music.

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