Sunday Sunday

Woke up today in San Francisco without a hangover. I didn't have anything to drink last night except coffee, coke, and apple juice, and I still couldn't wake up before my brother. My mind was still reeling from "Michael Clayton." Tilda Swinton makes great acting look dirty hot in corporate attire, George Clooney lets you see the gray in his hair and the bags under his eyes, Tom Wilkinson plays a manic-depressive corporate lawyer like it's King Lear for the Royal Shakespeare Company, and Sydney Pollack reprises his role from "Eyes Wide Shut" as the kindly uncle figure who acts surprised when you can't believe he's evil.

Had an argument with my brother over "Hotel Chevalier" last night. This is our second loud argument in the last two months about Wes Anderson. Last time I was anti-Wes - I've never liked "The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou" as much as I wanted to, frankly thought it was $100 Million hipster cumshot, but B made a passionate plea for Anderson's artfulness, his European influence, the sheer amount of STUFF that you've never seen in any other movie. Potato potato. I figured, then, that B, the devoted apostle, would like "Hotel Chevalier" even more than I, the scornful cynic would. Nope. He hated it - the stilted Anderson-speak, the little cutesy affectations like Natalie Portman's toothpick, everything.

I've disagreed with people about movies before, but there's something about "Hotel Chevalier." Two of the people I love most in the world have expressed nothing less than complete disdain for the short, and on both occasions I've felt equally hurt and angry - like, how can you not understand this? Maybe it's personal. Maybe you have to have been to a tourist wonder metropolis like Paris or Berlin and wanted nothing more than to lay in bed and order room service. Maybe you have to love a girl and hate her at the same time. Maybe you have to be at a particular time in your life - lonely, jobless, aimless - to really love the movie Or maybe you need to be as infantile as Wes Anderson. This whole "Hotel Chevalier" episode is not reflecting well on me. I can sense friendships breaking and mindsets shaking. I wish I could go back to a few days ago, when I just wanted to hate Wes Anderson some more.

I drove back home to clean out my room. Watched "Aliens" in the meantime. I know I shouldn't put a movie on while I'm trying to do something, but I can't help it. Like the Girl, I always have to have something on in the background. I'm listening to music right now because "Sopranos" is on commercial. Fucking "Sopranos" on A & E.