You make me laugh, but it’s not funny.

Why you should watch Beginners

Every now and then comes a film you just can’t keep to yourself. You risk being called a romantic (which you already are, quite openly) and put up a “Love Story” sign, write a non-review, a blog post, share it on everybody’s Facebook wall, tweet it, retweet it, mind it, rewind it.

You do it precisely because it’s not a big deal, but a short, 105-minute window into a full moon. An effective marriage between art and sad laughter. Another soundtrack for the weary dreamer. A break from the “should” and a step into the “could”. Your sort of memoir.
 

[Written & Directed by Mike Mills] 

Don’t watch Beginners if…

Your heart hasn’t been terribly broken yet (disfigured, destroyed, cannibalized).

You don’t want to fall in love with Ewan McGregor (again). Gay or hetero. That’s right.

You don’t want to know what the sky looked like, the clouds, the people, the cars, and who the president was in 1955, and in 2003, and once again, in 2011.

You are predictable or well-adjusted.

You hate the cutest dog in canine history.

You are immortal.

You are deliberately plotting against one of the most heartfelt and delightful soundtracks* ever recorded after Amélie.

Your existence on this planet is threatened by wit and by the atrocious Vs.

You don’t like quotable scripts. And when I say quotable I mean quotes that do not lead to tacky constipation or vulgar inflammation.

You are disturbed by the thought of an independent filmmaker breathing deeply over your lonely neck.

You don’t want to share a mental blanket and a sensory couch with me.

You’re too cool for sex, life, healing, nature, magic…

In other words, like all memorable films, you need to watch Beginners for this one and only reason: you’re in it.

*Bonus 1 – Sighs from the original soundtrack.

*Bonus 2 – Amélie watching Beginners.

[Parts of this post have been recycled from In Harsh Light, an art-talk hub for the maladjusted.]