You Can Count on Something Ordinary - Monday Movie...oh, whatever

The lameness of the movie poster says it all, but just in case...

I've been struggling to write some kind of commentary on the Oscar nominated movie You Can Count on Me (starring Laura Linney and Mark Ruffalo). Clearly this is due to a compilation of emotional and psychological factors that prohibit a thoughtful response. The first being that I'm an emotional retard. The second being my "Its not you, its me" approach to familial dysfunction, and by extension, movies that portray the more banal moments of familial dysfunction. But wont as you are for some sort of review, I've turned to other people's completely unprofessional reviews, to which I shall comment on their commentary.

gbheron from Washington DC notes "Not all stories need a crisis for the characters to resolve or an issue to press to be compelling. Some stories are just slices of our workaday worlds, packaged and presented in such a way as to entertain us. " Which is why I'm so lucky to have my own workaday world to entertain me, and by entertain I mean bore me to the brink of tears. No gbheron, I'm almost certain that when I watch a movie I don't want to be reminded that I'm living a measly, pedestrian existence with 300 million other losers.

almaier from Canada states "Here, the characters think, act and talk like real people. They could be us. That's the genius of this movie." And while this business of acting like "real people" is the genius of this movie, it also happens to be the plague of my existence, since for me, the mundane familial situations that these "real people" are finding themselves in is not so much emotionally cathartic, as emotionally debilitating.

m_madhu, hailing all the way from Chennai India, muses "the characters are...just real people, with real failings and real weaknesses, real moments, real feelings, real warmth, real stupidity ... you can count on me is a simple story that is beautifully told. a romantic movie, a family movie, a warm movie about human relationships, the complexities and the tender moments in between." Seriously, kill me.

fougasseu from gay Paris "Something about watching and listening to these characters moving about inside the wreckage of their family, and seeing the story gently unfold, made this a remarkable experience." Really? Well, fougasseu, if you like to watch families listlessly fall apart whilst emotionally blackmailing each other and repeatedly yelling for no reason, feel free to spend the day with my family on any given holiday. And permitting that my father decides to attend this family function, be prepared for a truly remarkable experience.

I could go on like this for hours, especially since people the world over (who write reviews on IMDB?) really loved this movie. Which just goes to show that only family can fuck you up in a way that could make a magical and touching film like You Can Count on Me repellant to the point of dry heaving.

Mrs. Cleaver is a Slut

I was alerted recently by our dear Norwegian friend/lust object, Bård Edlund, to this telling piece of American psychiatry otherwise known as the "Marital Rating Scale—Wife's Chart," a test developed in the late 1930s by Dr. George W. Crane, as a means to give couples feedback on their marriages. And while a backhanded slap to the mouth is enough feedback for me, I guess some spouses need to see things in writing.



Of course I decided to go ahead and rate myself, just to confirm my suspicion that if somehow I was tele-ported to the 1930s I'd more likely end up cemented in a basement wall than in a partnership of marital bliss. And not to my surprise, I'm a bad wife, a very very bad wife - with 15 demerits and 7 merits. Naturally, flirting with other men threw me over the edge. And while i do also put my cold feet on my partner when he eventually decides to come to bed, I'm also a terribly sweaty sleeper, which while not on the list I believe earns a demerit, since as he states "who wants to sleep next to a wet rag".