Long before we were married, my wife was just another pretty girl that I obsessed over. I met her at a party for a mutual friend, and then began to strategize how I could see more of her. This gameplanning, had become a seemingly semi-annual tradition since high school, as I would systematically figure out how I could accidentally bump into her as frequently as possible. If you knew how much casual conversation I would go through for the one bit of pertinent information, you would probably think I was nuts. But, that's what love is, right? Batshit insanity, at least early on. I mean, what normal person would spend hours in a McDonald's parking lot (because that's where they got the best cell-phone reception) registering for classes for someone else, before registering for their own? I mean, not me of course, 'cause that shit's crazy.
Though, then I could know exactly what classes I needed to register for..[maniacal laugh].
In my silly, um, fictional anecdote, everybody involved was rather normal and relatively sane. But in Silver Linings Playbook, that's not the case. David O. Russell's film tells the story of Pat, a fairly regular guy who has just been discharged from a mental health facility. See, Pat came home one day to find his wife in the shower with another man. Pat, probably a little unstable to begin with, lost his mind and beat the Hell out of this guy. Shockingly, his wife didn't approve of such a loving grand gesture, and she now has a restraining order against him. Pat has been away for eight months, and has likely spent every minute of that time, like a young blogger you might know, plotting how to get the girl (back, I suppose). In his head, it's going to work out just fine. He just needs to stay focused and positive.
Unfortunately, Pat's life is filled with distractions, a few of which could fall into the negative category. First up, is his family. His dad is an incredibly superstitious bastard, whose life revolves around the Philadelphia Eagles (poor bastard). Next up, is Tiffany. Tiffany is a recently widowed sister-of-a-friend, who eventually commits to helping Pat get his wife back. She's not completely selfless (or sane), as she insists that Pat help her enter a dance contest her late husband was supposed to be a part of. Seems fair enough. Well, last but not least, is Pat himself. Pat's completely selfish, obsessed with the inevitability of getting his wife back. He has no time for such things as grace and kindness, let alone common decency when he speaks. These things interfere with his plan. Pat is committed to one thing and one thing only: getting the girl.
It's actually a very simple story, it's just populated with complicated (read: f--ked) characters. As routinely frustrating as Pat's decisions and behavior can be, there's a refreshing amount of honesty to every move he makes. The rub however, is we know that no matter how hard he tries, his wife isn't coming back. And even if she would, it gets to a point where we don't want her to anyway. I mean, Pat's busting his ass to get his cheating wife back. First, he's an Eagles fan, and now this?
After crying themselves to sleep on Sunday after the Patriot's loss to the Ravens, the Yays and Boos have decided they won't watch ESPN for the next three weeks. I guess they found their silver lining, too.
Less than an hour later I had put on a ripped shirt and denim shorts, painted my entire body green and dyed my hair. I was the (not so) Incredible Hulk.
Maybe she knew I was going to be there. Maybe she had done a little reconnaissance?
Nevermind. That's just crazy.
Though, then I could know exactly what classes I needed to register for..[maniacal laugh].
Unfortunately, Pat's life is filled with distractions, a few of which could fall into the negative category. First up, is his family. His dad is an incredibly superstitious bastard, whose life revolves around the Philadelphia Eagles (poor bastard). Next up, is Tiffany. Tiffany is a recently widowed sister-of-a-friend, who eventually commits to helping Pat get his wife back. She's not completely selfless (or sane), as she insists that Pat help her enter a dance contest her late husband was supposed to be a part of. Seems fair enough. Well, last but not least, is Pat himself. Pat's completely selfish, obsessed with the inevitability of getting his wife back. He has no time for such things as grace and kindness, let alone common decency when he speaks. These things interfere with his plan. Pat is committed to one thing and one thing only: getting the girl.
It's actually a very simple story, it's just populated with complicated (read: f--ked) characters. As routinely frustrating as Pat's decisions and behavior can be, there's a refreshing amount of honesty to every move he makes. The rub however, is we know that no matter how hard he tries, his wife isn't coming back. And even if she would, it gets to a point where we don't want her to anyway. I mean, Pat's busting his ass to get his cheating wife back. First, he's an Eagles fan, and now this?
After crying themselves to sleep on Sunday after the Patriot's loss to the Ravens, the Yays and Boos have decided they won't watch ESPN for the next three weeks. I guess they found their silver lining, too.
Yaaaaaaaaaaaay!
- I think the only thing better than a subdued Chris Tucker, is a subdued, hair-obsessed, remote-holding, dancing Chris Tucker.
- I loved when the lady at the school blows him off out of pure dread, and Pat takes the whole encounter as a victory. So great.
- Even though dinner was a setup, I really enjoyed the bonding over prescribed drugs, and the origin of the term OK. This is one of the few times Pat isn't putting his foot directly into his mouth.
- I wish I still lived at home, so I could routinely barge into my parents room when anything was bothering me. I will apologize on behalf of Ernest Hemingway. Although my complaints wouldn't be so eloquent. More along the lines of my Sega Genesis froze again.
- Good Lord, the scene where Pat elbows his mom in the face. I covered my face in the utter cringe-worthiness of this whole scene, but I laughed my ass off when that damn high school kid showed up again. De Niro's line to the kid was f--king hysterical.
- Next time I'm at a diner with a woman that is not my wife, I'm totally ordering Raisin Bran. You know, so everyone knows this is just business. But if she counters with tea, I'll know I'm screwed. Both ways.
- When he read the letter, I was honestly heartbroken.
- The origin of hand-holding. I thought you were doing it.
- As much, I'd like to keep it classy, Tiffany's dance attire, both in pembinaan and in competition, was mesmerizing. As emotional as some of those scenes were, I will admit to a level of distraction at times. Or, as my friend put it: It's hard to cry when you have a boner. Fine, he's more of an acquaintance, really.
- Even if the movie, didn't completely wow me like it did many of you, the last ten minutes were perfect. I almost wept like a little girl during De Niro's dance floor speech, but Pat's letter narration was perfect.
- I thought that only guys meticulously planned their lives around girls they are in love with. I was wrong, apparently.
- And finally, though I get no originality points, obviously, the cast is absolutely perfect. The conviction in Cooper's eyes alone could get him the Oscar. Jennifer Lawrence nails the wavering confidence of Tiffany. And De Niro? Well, he's f--king De Niro. Again.
Boooooo!
- Okay, I'm not a medical professional or anything, but playing his trigger song in the lobby? Hmm...
- If that wasn't enough, when your doctor openly admits that DeShean Jackson is the man, clearly you need a second opinion.
- Speaking of...Eagles fans. Quite possibly the worst group of people on the planet.
- Eleven people! Everyone in the office! Even the women? This is only a Boo because I wasn't a temp there. Oh, right. And it's sad.
- My God, I think there were at least a half a dozen times that I wanted to punch Pat in his handsome face for saying something stupid and or hurtful, or both.
- And finally, as I eluded to, I really liked this movie. I wanted to love it. Maybe this Boo is directed at me, the joyless prick.
Less than an hour later I had put on a ripped shirt and denim shorts, painted my entire body green and dyed my hair. I was the (not so) Incredible Hulk.
Maybe she knew I was going to be there. Maybe she had done a little reconnaissance?
Nevermind. That's just crazy.