I went and saw (500) Days of Summer today.
I mean, I liked it; of course I did. Whatever else I am, I’m a 26 year old white boy who has a college degree but not a proper job, who has every single Death Cab album and who still gets shy when he’s around a girl he likes. I wasn’t allowed to dislike this movie.
But oh god, this movie. It seduces boys like me with its indie romance and its leading man who could almost be you as you like to imagine yourself on your best and most self-satisfied days, and its Zooey Deschanel, and then it tears out your heart and your hopes and stomps on them.
I said two months ago that shit with this movie sounded too real, and I was sort of right. It didn’t dig up old… things… the way I thought it would, but oh, it bummed me out. See, it’s all about narratives. Those narratives you write for yourself about how you meet that girl and how she’s perfect for you, and, yes, maybe there are other guys who like her, but you’re the right one. And even though you don’t believe in fate or things that were meant to be, you figure that what you’re feeling must be real, because you are really feeling it.
And this movie shows you how stupid that feeling is, because, no actually, she’s a real person too, and she has a different narrative and different things that were meant to be, and they don’t involve you. They involve other people, maybe ones that she hasn’t even met yet. And so this wonderful story you’ve cooked up only ever existed in your head, and she’s cooked up some other story. Which means that worse than you being wrong about your story; it means your story was never unique or important; it never meant anything. Because anyone can have a crush, anyone can believe something that isn’t true.
So you like this girl and maybe you have some good times, and maybe all kinds of things happen. But your story is wrong and hers is right, and so it doesn’t work out. But you know how right your story feels, so you can’t let it go, except now — because (500) Days of Summer told you so — you can’t even pretend your story is right and she just hasn’t realized it. This movie looks hope square in the eye, lines it up in its sight, and pulls the trigger.
And, as some miserable…
Then, as some miserable consolation, it offers you the chance that maybe you’ll find someone else to start the whole stupid thing again with. But this someone else won’t be as hot as Zooey Deschanel. And she won’t be the person you’ve spent 500 days obsessing over (or 90 minutes, depending on whether you’re the character or the audience). And so, what? All that time was a waste, all your feelings and certainties actually were wrong. No, you weren’t meant to be with her, neither in a cosmic sense, nor in an actual this-is-what-would-be-good-for-you sense, because now you’ve got this other person who proved those 500 days/90 minutes to be completely irrelevant. And that’s meant to make you happy?
I liked this movie. I already told you I didn’t have a choice about that. But oh god was it brutal.
 They call us “hipsters” or something?
 You know, not classically handsome, but maybe a little bit cute?
 Bad writers have this thing where they say “you” when actually they mean “I.”
 This is sort of why religion is bullshit too.