From the Files of Dr. Greenwich
Movies, Madness, and Sex...with Max
“I haven’t seen a trope twist like this since The Ninth Configuration,” says my friend Max after a recent viewing of Her.
“What do you mean?” I say to him. “I mean dystopia never looked so stylish and clean. Just goes to show that even hell feels cute and cuddly when it’s dressed as a pink-pantied teddy-bear.”
“So you don’t like the film?” I asked Max.“Are you kiddin’,” he says, “at first I thought it was a joke. Then I noticed Mr. Jonze’ name attached to the product and I knew I was right. Pure genius! A social statement of the highest order.”
“So you did like it then?” I asked Max.
“You bet,” he said. “Once I saw it was an inside job, the whole thing fell into place and I actually felt sorry for that poor schmuck. Man, did Theo get jipped! Talk about the ultimate distant dame. I’ve met her type...lots of flash and promise and soft sweet nothin’s that all add up to the same thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Nothin’…zilch…zero.”
Now I have to explain something about Max. You see, he comes from another era, what you might call the age of the Rat Pack, when politically correct didn’t exist and every target was fair game. I guess you could say he’s a throwback to another age.
“So you eventually felt sorry for our duped protagonist.” I said to Max.
“Like I said, been down that road myself.”
"Then you take back that comment you made during the film,” I said, “the one about wanting to ‘slap some sense into that guy!?’”
“Yeah, sure” says Max. “But still, the kid needs a little heart-to-heart...man-to-man...no rough stuff...just a little talkin’ to.”
"What would you say to him about Her?
“I’d tell him that that Samantha broad was a number, I mean a real number, as in computer.”
“I think he knew that.”
“Well it didn’t look that way to me. Guess that’s the irony of the whole flick. Come to think of it, maybe it’s them so-called smart phones we should slap some sense into.”
Doc #070815
Page 1
Page 2
Doc #070815
