Since, this late-morning, I had five bucks that was burning a hole in my pocket and was depressed as all get out, I started to look around for what movie I wanted to see. The reviews of The Social Network are interesting. While the youthful sensibility of the movie was a drawback, the biggest drawback was that it had a 97% approval rating on Rotten Tomatoes.
Yipes. Anything that gets 97% approval from critics just has to be good in a bland way, beyond redemption. 97% is what Disney animated movies get that are competently done and wholly non-offensive. I am a movie connoisseur: my interest, (somewhat) always, is in "the new." And from all reports, despite its overly high RT rating, The Social Network has something 'new' about it. Something that hadn't been tried before.
As a piece of work, The Social Network is fascinating. It is original in many ways and addresses issues relating to Our Time. It's also funny, and funniest when it's subtly funny, and I like that. And some of the 'jokes' worked mostly because they were delivered especially well; good delivery is, um, a good thing. It a key aspect of good acting. Too, the lead actor in the movie, Jesse Eisenberg, was fully amazing. It was a performance for the Ages, maybe, even if the film ends up being mostly appreciated just in our current decade.
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I had another legal meeting thing early this morning. It was very embarrassing. I don't have a storage locker, so I have to carry around my stuff, which weighs a ton, since I inherited my mother's pack-rat personality aspect. The x-ray machine - or whatever you rightly call it - was out-of-whack at the courtroom annex where the 'thing' was and so I had to open my dufflebag for direct examination. Woe, I am poor and a bit eccentric, I 'spose. My "save everything" thing was on display.
Waiting in the waiting area, a couple of male lawyers - including 'my opponent' - were talking about feet, shoes and pedicures for men. The lawyers were fancily dressed, spoiled rotten by every indication, talking about aspects of spectacularly expensive shoes and where to go to get your feet dipped into a mountain of fur (or, something like that). Lotions, nail polish, scrubbing, cleanliness, softness all came up, as did the information that one of the lawyers had a wife and that the other lawyer was excellence at motorcycle maintenance. [I think the macho thing came up at the end because otherwise the two men were on a vector toward spending the night together.] The stinking rich live in a different, much-cushier world than I do. It's bad to be poor, but it's not a bad thing not being rich.
When we went into the judge's chamber, my impoverishedness was apparent, of course. I chose to sit on the couch rather than in the line of chairs. The judge said something confirming that I could, indeed, sit there, since things were paid for with my tax dollars.
I said I hadn't been paying much in taxes, lately.
I was combative, more as a role than a representation of real indignation, but some real indignation was floating around inside me.
The judge told me, at one point, that I had all the rights of a litigant/lawyer making hundreds of thousands of dollars a year, and it was clear that that [how much a lawyer MADE] was the standard. I took offense, inartfully [and nonsensically, I think the judge thought], but was glad I did.
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