Down on the Street

Sure, sure, sure, Jason Reitman’s Up in the Air is getting all sorts of raves, etc., etc., and good for him and his movie.


But unless George Clooney’s corporate downsizer gets smashed in the face with a tire-iron by the end of the flick, I don’t want to see it.
(And no, I have not seen either of Reitman's previous film, neither Thank You for Smoking (great book, though) nor Juno (HELL NO!)

How the fuck am I supposed to feel sympathetic to a guy flying first-class everywhere who fires people for a living and is so handsome that he can get laid by a beautiful chick within five minutes no matter where in the world he is?


Existential dilemmas are even less interesting to me when they come from “the landed gentry.”

(Not that I have anything against Mr. Clooney personally, he seems like decent sort of chap, and when he isn’t coasting, can actually act.)

And yeah, I’ll probably see Up in the Air eventually, but what’s the rush? Does a film like this need to be seen in a theater? Doubtful.