Or, as I think of it, American Graffiti: the Sequel.
Rich Linklater really shows an influence from the young, experimental George Lucas, with a casual approach to storytelling and a heavy reliance on an understanding of the setting.
Find it difficult to put together better words to say these things.
It’s better than American Graffiti, in ways that the 70s were better than the 50s, and it worse in ways that the 70s were worse than the 50s, which says two things:
I allowed myself to embraces my own age, which movies don’t often accomplish.
The omniscient viewer unanimously associates the time period with the story. That takes a LOT of work to accomplish.
I expected to hate the movie, but I didn’t.
I expected it to be boring, but it wasn’t always.
I expected more stoner scenes, and I’m glad as fuck that I didn’t have to endure many.
I won’t dignify the minor details of the film, which so many mindless people think deserve a “cult following” rivaling the over-popular Boondock Saints and the overpaid Kevin Smith, by mentioning them. I don’t earn anything of value to know that other people can recite that moronic pothead’s George Washington theory.
If anybody should circulate the movie, it should be film students, not potheads. Those fucks think cheap laughs are an art form. No offense to my good friends, but really. Get some perspective in film, and I might consider taking people seriously.
