Movie Review: Greenberg
Greenberg sits to pen a letter to American Airlines, and suddenly I remember reading something about this book somewhere that told its story like that. Hmm. Curious. You know, I went to this movie thinking I was Greenberg — I don’t think I am — Greenberg’s a huge asshole, I’m usually not one, I tend to ignore people a little, I guess, self-defeating, lingering on the past, uncomfortable about getting mixed up into other people’s shit — do I hate people, though? Not really — I actually think I’m somewhat sympathetic of other people’s shit — GS’s shit, and MB’s shit, and ZR’s shit, absolutely, and the girls in my life’s shit — and I hate the shitty things I do —
Trying to do nothing. But so anxious about all that.
The heartbreakingly hilarious attempt to get back together with the woman who he left fifteen years earlier.
(The fear I have that fifteen years will go by and all my friends will grow up and have lives and I won’t.)
The uber-cliche “let’s talk to kids” at the party. Other great scenes: hilariously awkward oral sex scene. He’s terrible with women, but moreso, terrible to women. A self-involved asshole prick. Walking disappointment. Not to fragile for the world just — too big an asshole.
Still — hurt people hurt people. He is crazy and sad. But he takes care of the dog.
“My dog is sick.”
The Great Escape — running away to Australia with two twenty year old girls — “did you start an affair with Florence?”
Oh — and Florence, Florence — let me in, Florence. People to People to People. Lost. But Young.
The very interesting twist where the Obligatory Scene was actually between Greenberg and Ivan.
A strong movie. Redemption at the end? A little.
What was Noah Baumbach’s Dad like? I know what my Dad is like — a great guy. Why doesn’t he offer me advice? Tzimtzum maybe. He can’t do it for me.
I have to grow up, and be a man. And soon. Now. Do it now.
Procrastinating, seeing Greenberg instead of doing homework. Uh.
I’m almost done school. I feel this great inevitable sucking feeling, like time is now moving with such great inevitablity that I can only be pulled along by the torrent. It is frightening. My vacation from life is about to end. And hard.
(Why do I fear living? Stop, I want to say, Stop, it’s moving too fast. Let me out. Let me out and let me stay with someone.)