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The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby: Them (2014)
I think I get it now
I have watched too many of these artsy films waiting to get something out of them. I've thought often that maybe I'm not smart enough to get what other people see in them. But it struck me this time while suffering through this several-hour pensive drudge of a movie, and I think I finally understand. These "beautiful Hollywood people" have had such gifted lives that they think when they do experience pain that it is somehow unique. I suspect that they just don't get the pain everyday ordinary people endure in their lives. Yet, even with that pain we have to get up, dust ourselves off, and go back to living because there just is no choice to do what the people in this movie did. We won't be heading off to Paris when a family member dies, or move back into mom or dad's mansion in Connecticut. We will just bury our loved one, say our goodbyes, and go back to trudging to survive. So, you want to know what's wrong with this movie? It's a bunch of self-indulgent rich people who think their pain is somehow more special than yours. It is not. If it wasn't for the lead actors, whom I have enjoyed in other movies, I would not have sat through the entirety of this narcissistic, spoiled whine of a movie. And I find the fact that the creators think their pain is so original that it allows them to offer it up as entertainment, without even adding a semblance of an actual plot to us mere minions, quite insulting. End of rant.