It's a rare and special thing when I actually go to the movie theater to see a movie. The last time I did, it was for The Wolf of Wall Street, and not until about five months after it came out. I felt especially incentivized yesterday—as we're in the midst of some insufferable humidity here in the city, so when Emily asked if I wanted to see Obvious Child on a whim Monday evening, I was all in. I had read quite a bit about the movie, and figured that a film pegged as an "abortion comedy" starring Jean Ralphio's sister / Marcel The Shell With Shoes On couldn't be bad.
You guys. This movie. Is so good. Jenny Slate is so good. Gillian Robespierre (the writer/director) is brilliant. While it rang especially true for Emily and I as working professionals looking for a good man in New York City who are just shy of 30, the overall message of the story and the comedy are so real and relevant that anyone can identify. (We noted there was a really darling couple in the audience who were definitely over the age of 70, and they seemed to love it.)
This is a film that's great for both cynics and romantics, of which I think I'm a little of both. The plot is strikingly realistic, but woven together with some of the smart story-telling devices we've come to love from classic rom-coms. For these reasons, I walked out of the theater feeling a bit of catharsis and a little like I had been punched in the stomach.
Reeling from the charm, heart and emotional realness of Obvious Child and oppressed by the stormy, soggy heat of Houston Street, Emily and I retreated to Il Buco to sort out our feelings over red wine and gnocchi with artichoke. The conversation wove from relationships and single life stuff to parents and babies and friends and careers—and back to how attractive Jake Lacy is. You know, standard Monday night stuff.
Moral of the blog post: If you're a human who feels things, see this movie. Just see it. And then lets all talk.