At the close of last night’s Mad Men Season 6 premiere, Don Draper reveals his New Year’s resolution to his latest mistress, saying “I want to stop doing this.”  Sylvia, Dr. Rosen’s wife, says she knew that to be the case.  However, Don’s use of pronouns, and absence of therapy sessions, paves the way for fun viewer speculation as to what exactly it is he wants to stop doing.  Better still, there can be discussion about why he, apparently, lowers himself, and periodically feels twinges of guilt.

Taking a Freudian approach, delving into Don’s sketchy, but unfortunately turbulent backstory is a necessity.  The women in Don’s life have been disappointing him, literally, throughout his entire life.  His mother, a prostitute, died while giving birth to him.  It’s difficult then to lay blame for Don’s issues at his mother’s feet because she certainly didn’t choose to abandon him; however, it was repeated to him on many occasions throughout his childhood that he was a “whore child,” so, even from beyond the grave, his mother’s character was a nuisance to him.  Abigail, Don’s stepmother, must not have been so wonderful to Don either because when Don is informed of her death from stomach cancer, he says to his half brother, the bearer of that news, “Good.”  Therefore, by the time he was a teenager and joined the army, Don’s positive experiences with women were likely minimal, if there were any at all.

In Betty, he found someone as childish as she is beautiful and, for a time at least, he could control her.  After years of infidelity, Don finally proves to be untrustworthy when Betty learns of Don’s prior identity as Dick Whitman.  The staggering truth that Don is a man Betty doesn’t know-a reality that any woman only minutely more aware than Betty is would have seen years prior-is finally too much for her to bear, and she files for divorce.  Rapidly, in Don’s eyes, the best thing about Betty, her immaturity, becomes the most infuriating aspect of her personality as he tries to navigate his new life as a single father.  Betty uses their children to control Don, making it increasingly difficult for him to be an effective, even loving parent.  In short, Betty becomes an incredible irritant to Don, just like his mother and stepmother.

Don tells Peggy towards the close of Season 5, “You help people, and then they move on.”  This was soon after Peggy had left Don’s firm where, under his tutelage, she’d learned all her advertising trade tricks, but, at that point, Don was really referencing his wife, Megan, and not really trying to impose guilt upon Peggy.  He checks himself and quickly insists to Peggy that he is indeed proud of her achievements.  In the case of Megan, Don was feeling duped because in his former secretary, he thought he’d found another woman he could control.  But when she gets the acting bug in her, he’s combative and tries to restrict her pursuits.  Turning over a new leaf, Don gives in, hopeful that he can still find comfort in someone so independent, and he lands her the gig in a commercial that his very own firm was producing.

To Megan’s credit, she looks intent on balancing her career commitments with those that come with being in a marriage.  For instance, she appears genuinely upset that she can’t attend Roger’s mother’s funeral, an event that Don, as a partner of Roger’s, would most certainly have to attend.  Don says he doesn’t mind, which also comes after he seemingly restrains some internal frustration at her newfound notoriety during their Hawaiian trip.  So, despite Megan’s best efforts to be a good wife, Don’s anxious anyway.

Don cheats on Megan because he expected her to be a disappointment to him.  Now, because she is doing her own thing as opposed to sitting at home waiting for him to arrive for dinner, Don’s bailing.  His current swing into infidelity is the result of a self-fulfilling prophecy.  All of the women in his life, his mother, step mother, Betty, and, though they weren’t a couple, even Peggy, have been a source of some varying degree of angst for Don.  It’s virtually impossible then for Megan to keep Don close, for Don’s just been waiting for a reason to leave her all along.

Don’s “first wife,” Anna, is the lone exception.  They had “an understanding” and “it wasn’t romantic,” he tells Sally in Season 5.  Anna was nice enough to allow Dick Whitman to go on living as Donald Draper and, when he asked her, nice enough to divorce him too.  Don struggled with her untimely death and now only speaks fondly of her whenever he must to the few people, all women, in his life who even know of Anna’s existence.  Anna could be an illustration that there is a section of Don’s character willing to turn itself completely over to one woman.  However, it might already be occupied by Anna, a dead woman whose entire presence in Don’s life, as someone who allowed Don to do whatever the hell he wanted, was a positive one.

So, as Don reads Dante’s book about “you know where,” to quote Roger, he’s pausing to actually reflect on his sinful actions.  Don doesn’t just want to stop sleeping around, he wants to thwart his reemerging tendency to sabotage relationships with women.  Perhaps it’s because Megan is proving to be simply a better woman than Betty  as she makes a concerted effort to not let Don down, despite wanting to achieve her own personal goals.  Or it could be that Don has matured and finally grown tired of the intensity that comes with cheating, the very thing that for years could have provided him with a thrilling rush of excitement.  Whatever the reason for Don’s potential enlightenment, the root cause of his behavior goes back quite a ways, and it’s a bit unsettling to think Megan, through no fault of her own, could experience some painful days if Don can’t figure this all out.        

When controversies such as this one erupt, people become offended for two reasons: 1) the content of the comment is insensitive to the liberties of the those who have been targeted and 2) the statement just isn’t funny.  Liz indirectly highlights this in the episode by saying to Tracy Jordan that it’s a bad idea to offend gay rights groups “because they are the most organized” of them all, making “the Chinese look like the Greeks.”  Jordan asks how his comment could be deemed offensive, but not hers, to which Liz ironically replies, “Because nobody heard me say it.”  Plenty of people heard her say it, and it was funny.  So, Morgan and anyone else who strives to be edgy in their works of comedy simply need to make sure that their statements are appealing to the mass’ sense of humor as opposed to genuinely concerning themselves with the level of offensiveness in their writing.

Perhaps another reason for this public displeasure with Morgan was that on any given night, a comic might not mesh with their audience, failing to win them over.  Having been raised on the streets of Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn, Morgan’s life path, like anyone else’s, helped shape his raw comedy stylings.  Nashville could be the type of town where his act just didn’t translate well, giving patroners a reason to publicize anything remotely contentious after not receiving a satisfying level of entertainment for their spent money.

With that stated, Tracy Morgan spoke of committing a murder of his own child.  Most certainly, this was an overzealous attempt at humor, a right that Morgan should not find himself begrudged of.  But 30 Rock mimicked Morgan’s act with jokes that did not feature any suggestion of physical harm being done to another human being at all.  The result is that the consequential satire that turns up throughout the rest of the episode falls short of having a direct correlation to the real events, which completely takes away from the idea that there could be humor in what was an unfortunate incident.  This also creates a delayed watered-down effect on Morgan’s initial apology to GLAAD and the gay community.  GLAAD says they thought the episode was “hilarious,” namely the moment where Jordan calls the Glad trash bag company to say he was sorry for offending gays, but if 30 Rock finds the whole situation so funny, then how honest and genuine could Morgan’s real apology have been?  The truth is there was no humor in what happened last summer, hence the controversy; therefore a successful parody is impossible and only serves as an uncomfortable reminder of what went on.

In the spirit of 28 Days Later, Fear Eats the Seoul is better characterized as a drama with zombies as opposed to a traditional gore fest, like Dead/Alive and Dawn of the Dead.  With expected budgetary constraints, Calder knew he had to piece together images that suggest devastating violence instead of putting it on gratuitous display.  The result proves Calder a prodigy in that often overlooked editing portion of the filmmaking skill set.  Couple the quick cuts with near seizure-inducing focus shifts, throw in a sickly tense score, and voila: a highly entertaining, gripping movie emerges.

Another applaudable aspect of the film is Calder’s awareness of the need for the zombies to be stylized.  He challenged himself to be original.  Though inspired by Freddy Krueger, the “demons” as they are called (a play on the “inner demons” that the characters must face), are different from the monster predecessors that fans of the genre have seen countless times before.  Once transformed, the demons develop a predatory tool with their fingers having turned into elongated root-like claws.  The faces of the demons resemble a somehow even more horrifying version of Heath Ledger’s Joker of The Dark Knight fame and these zombies are fast and smart too.

Calder appeals to the horror die hards though by lifting the premise that once a human’s skin has been broken by a demon, they too turn into one.  This sets up the inevitable moment where a character must choose to become malevolent towards someone who, moments earlier, were quite dear to them.  Perhaps the best example of Calder’s ability to be true to the genre, yet unique is the kill method that must be employed, which involves pinpoint blows to an undead head, originating from the unquestioned foundational film Night of the Living Dead, but with a symbolic variation that astute viewers will find themselves pondering in between late night shuddered looks around their apartment.

Opportunities to view NJ Calder’s Fear Eats the Seoul may be limited, but should you over the course of the next year or so find it listed on the queue of a local indie film festival, a download of a couple of etickets to your smart phone should happen as quickly as you can say “Soju Hangover.”

Early on, Butters was not as prolific and was inserted into spot episodes as an easy target of ridicule for the cast mainstays and audience alike.  In the second half of Season 4 (2000), Butters briefly appears in “4th Grade.”  On behalf of their peers, the core four decide to pull a prank on their new teacher to establish their dominance in the classroom.  They propose the act of pulling down their pants while shouting “Kiss my ass!”  Butters asks for clarification.  ”Should we stand front ways or back?” he stutters.  ”Do we show our behinds or our weiners?”  Surprised at the lack of thought behind the question, Stan stares, pauses and deadpanly explains that showing their asses would be “sufficient.”  Such scenes were the norm for poor Butters, the mere fringe character.

Butters would become more prevalent by the end of the 5th season though, when he was the focal point of the aptly, humorously entitled “Butters’ Very Own Episode.”  This is when the audience would become more in tune with what makes Butters tick.  Setting up his increased role in the next season as the possible replacement of Kenny as the fourth friend, Parker and Stone take viewers into the Scotch household-a pretty terrifying place.  Like in the aforementioned “City Sushi” episode, Butters is asked to be involved in some unsavory activity.  Looking to please his mother, he complies to spying on his dad, only to unknowingly reveal his father’s secret gay life.  Mrs. Scotch snaps and decides that the only way to protect her son from the impurities of a life with a homosexual for a father is to kill Butters.  He survives and by the end of the show lectures his parents about the pitfalls of lying.

By the time he creates his alter-ego, “Professor Chaos,” Butters has suffered many-a-pangs at the hands of Stan, Kyle, and Cartman, while serving as their stand-in friend.  Finally, after an ultimate rejection as their confidant, Butters becomes the super villain, looking to create displeasure for anyone in his presence.  Sure he only performs crimes against others that are more cute than harmful, like swapping people’s soups at Bennigan’s, but this is a turning point for Butters as he would come to assert himself amongst the group more and more.

Of late, Butters has been increasingly vocal and, dare I say, confident in his voice.  By the premiere of the current Season 15, “HumancentiPad,” viewers behold him actually pointing out a poor choice on Kyle’s part to accept, without reading, the exceptionally verbose agreement between Apple and their users of the frequently updated ITunes application.  It is Butters, of all people, who calls into question Stan’s defense of the entrapped Kyle.  After reading aloud the portion of the agreement that clearly indicates that Kyle had agreed to be a part of the Apple experiment in which Kyle’s face would be sewn to the rear end of another user, Butters slowly, moves his mouse into place and  sarcastically enunciates, “Yeah, I’m going to click…’Decline.’”  In “The Last of the Meheecans,” Butters is the unheralded hero.  After (once again innocently) becoming a recognizable symbol of Mexican pride in the neighboring country, the gang fail to be aware of his leadership capabilities and refuse to appoint him head-Mexican should they once again play “Texans vs. Mexicans.”  With dramatic irony at work, Butters simply raises his arms, thus manipulating the native Mexicans into a chant for their new idol, a chant that can be heard all the way to Colorado.  And at the end of “City Sushi,” Butters is again the hero, having unmasked Janus and put an end to his Japanese brand of terror in South Park.  During the course of the episode, Butters is literally pissed on by Janus, who was pretending to be his therapist, while he slept.  It is as though Parker and Stone created a visual reminder of what had been happening to Butters throughout his tenure on the show, while, at the same time, pointing out the new irony present in his character, having become smarter, stronger, and more assertive.  It will be interesting to see how many more times the creators of South Park use Butters as a purveyor of keen perception, while trumping Stan and Kyle’s level of cognizance and intelligence.

I’d guess that anybody who picks up a hard copy of New York Magazine, and is familiar with its typical layout, will inevitably make a concerted effort to peruse the final page.  The Approval Matrix is the staff’s way of creating a “deliberately oversimplified guide to who falls where on [their] taste hierarchies” and is divided into quadrants rating what is despicable vs. brilliant vs. highbrow vs. lowbrow in all that is that edition’s week in pop culture.  Should a (drunken?) person view The Approval Matrix as a dartboard, Seinfeld, the series as a whole, scores a bull’s-eye.

What all-time great sitcoms are in the discussion with Seinfeld?  The Simpsons?  With only winks at highbrow humor (Mayor Quimby appearances, Lisa’s storylines), The Simpsons relies most often on lowbrow/despicable humor.  The Cosby Show was a huge hit in the 1980s.  Focusing on an upper-middle class, highly-functional African American family, the series was very funny, even wry, and can only be considered highbrow and brilliant.  All in the Family‘s (1968-79) reputation was founded upon its lowbrow, newly-shocking, and bigoted main character.  I Love Lucy?  The Honeymooners?  It’s hard to compare those shows with anything as contemporary as Seinfeld and The Simpsons because, considering the era in which they aired, those creative energies could never have flowed towards anything as lowbrow as what has been looked to for laughs in recent years.

Seinfeld contrasts with all of them, and any other, because the series possesses individual episodes that can be sprayed across the entire Approval Matrix.  ”The Chinese Restaurant” is considered one of their early classics, the quintessential episode “about nothing.”  Highbrow and Brilliant.  ”The Finale,” when the gang are sentenced to prison for breaking the “Good Samaritan law,” pokes fun at legislation and the judicial system, but the inciting incident finds them guffawing at a fat guy.  Highbrow and Despicable.  ”The Soup Nazi” must be in the Lowbrow hemisphere.  With the term “Nazi” bouncing around like a mid-rally squash ball, one might be inclined to label that episode Despicable.  But with Elaine enacting revenge upon the unsympathetic title character, a deviation to the right is required.  Lowbrow and Brilliant.  Few things ever witnessed are as Lowbrow and Despicable as “The Contest.”  In so many ways it’s Brilliant, but, towards the episode’s conclusion, Marla points out that she doesn’t want “anything to do with” Elaine, Jerry, or their “perverted friends.”  Few beings can recognize corruption like a virgin.  ”The Opera“- Highbrow/Brilliant; “The Junior Mint“- Highbrow/Despicable; “The Smelly Car“- Lowbrow/Brilliant; “The Bubble Boy“- Lowbrow/Despicable.  (Keep it going in the comments section!)

With all that said, Seinfeld, the complete series, is then none of these designations.  It falls right in the middle of New York Magazine’s Approval Matrix, some unknown land of limitless advertising revenue possibilities.

I mean, Steve Carell was gone.  I used to watch him on “The Daily Show.”  Then he was the guy I’d recognized, but couldn’t quite place in “Bruce Almighty;” though I’d always remember Carell after outfunnying Jim Fucking Carrey in his own movie.  The man who had an unstable hairline was hilarious again in “Anchorman” and then “The Office” debuted with a brief 6 episode season in 2005.  It took some time to build an audience, going through a couple of times slots, but, in conjunction with “The 40-Year Old Virgin,” the show would launch Steve Carell into superstardom, ironically, knocking Carrey off quite a pedestal in the world of screen comedy.  Yes, Carell was funny on “The Office,” of course he was, but I personally felt that his performances on that show featured some of the best pure comedic acting I’d ever seen.  The Michael Scott character is one that t.v. has never seen before and will never see again.

And Carell was gone.  This spelled certain death for the show.  Who watched “That 70′s Show” without Topher Grace?  Nobody did and he was no goddamn Carell.

On top of that, I also felt that the show, even with Carell still in tow, was kind of jumping the shark to begin with.  The BBC series lasted 2 (yeah, that’s 1 more than 1) seasons, and was hysterical.  There were no weddings between characters, no babies to be had, and no famous guest stars showing up for a cameo.  With all of the romance of the American version dominating the plot lines as it went on into its 5th, 6th, and 7th seasons, it seemed as though the writers were going down the same path that countless other sitcoms had traveled before, just to maintain ratings.  Much of it was tastefully done on “The Office,” but “Friends” turned to crap once the babies started popping out and everyone started fucking everyone. (Rachel and Joey?  Give me a break.)  ”The Office” recently pinched a hot chick into the cast, Kelly, to keep the big male 18-35 demographic around.  And the last episode of season 7 found James Spader becoming a candidate for Carell’s replacement.  I honestly thought his character, Robert California, was hilarious, but I doubted he would really fill the Michael Scott void adequately.  My mood went from skeptical to annoyed when (How funny?), of all people, Jim Carrey’s mug tainted my screen for just a few seconds.  Look, I like Jim Carrey, he’s done some of my most favorite comedies, but I hate it when Hollywood fits in a big name for a cameo, either in t.v. or film, just so the audience, in unison, says, “Holy shit! It’s [actor's name]!”  It significantly compromises the integrity of the work and, in this case, there might as well have been a CGI motorcycle Fonzie jumping over the Fingerlakes Guy’s head.  I’d proclaimed that I wouldn’t watch “The Office” any longer.

Season 8′s premiere though had found its way into my DVR that had maintained its settings to record all new episodes of “The Office” throughout the summer.  Thinking my subconscience was telling me something, I gave the episode a shot and experienced a little bit of regret when Jim and Pam had announced a new pregnancy to go along with Angela’s baby bump.  I didn’t like the fact that over the summer NBC leaked stories about how James Spader had signed on to continue to do the show, leading viewers to believe Robert California would be the new office manager, completely obliterating the cliffhanger leftover from last season’s finale, just to find out that Andy was really taking over, while Robert would be the new CEO of the entire company.  And why, out of all of the branches of the corporation would the CEO have to work out of Scranton?

Despite those initial hiccups, “The Office” was still very funny.  It is still the best sitcom on network t.v. and this is because the show’s entire cast is incredibly talented, along with writers who consistently draw inspiration from pop culture. The whole bit on planking was great.  Stanley’s “new thing” on how to instruct people to insert things into their asses was solid.  Kevin’s diatribe on how everyone, even “the doctors,” has been wrong about him was snicker-worthy too.

It seems to me that with NBC moving Andy out of the main work room and into Michael Scott’s office was a statement that said, “We can’t replace Steve Carell, so we won’t.”

I doubt “The Office” will ever be as good as it was a couple of seasons ago, with or without Steve Carell, and I don’t know if this season will build on its quality premiere, but the show seems to still be a more than worthwhile watch.  So, if you can’t get into “The Office” on time, leave your DVR settings alone.  For now.

But I digress.

Being an educator and having heard of Guggenheim’s latest work Waiting for Superman, I’d begun to deem it as “required viewing,” despite my affection for “Truth” having drastically waned since its initial release.  This documentary is incredibly gut wrenching at times, but most importantly, indisputably relevant to every person, young and old, in this country.  The film examines the causes and impacts of the lack of achievement in the public schools of the United States.

At times, I was waiting for the attack on teachers because “Truth” had proven to be a one-sided debate, so I was anticipating blame to be thrust somewhere.  On the defensive, I got to the segment of the movie that takes some shots at the teacher’s unions.  Guggenheim is mindful though that teachers are the big cogs in the machine that, should reform ever be possible, will implement and execute this change.  He smartly focuses his criticism on bad teachers, who are clearly doing a disservice to their students and, really, the nation as a whole.  His suggestion for weeding out the sometimes downright irresponsible or unfortunately less talented instructors is to boost requirements and standards for tenure, if not scrap it altogether, and institute a merit-pay system.  Teachers must then earn the right to keep their jobs and obtain raises, like pretty much any other career path.

I had been against a merit-pay arrangement for most of my career.  That is, until I got good.  The main counter argument towards this type of structure from the teachers union is that it would divide the workforce.  I was incredibly lucky at twenty-two years old to have found a teaching job amongst very willing, helpful peers.  I was a teacher who was learning, every day.  Would my coworkers have assisted and guided me with as much vigor if there was a merit-pay system?  Considering the type of hearts those folk possess, I would say “Yes” because they understand that people who have made the leap into the teaching profession should not be willing themselves out of bed every morning at the mere prospect of pocket-lining opportunities.  Teachers do this simply to help other people, sometimes even other teachers.  Quality performance should be rewarded and people must understand and appreciate the concept that this service needs to be done for the betterment of society, not for the financial gains of an individual.  If some “educators,” like those on display in Guggenheim’s piece, either choose to not dedicate themselves to that reality or simply are incapable, then it is better that they lose their place in the building, as opposed to granting them freedom to negatively impact 170 students a day (on the high school level) year in, year out.

Measures would most certainly have to be taken to assure a fair merit-pay system though.  Waiting for Superman does not deliberate on the risk that many teachers would face of losing their job because they have earned the right to be on the top of the salary scale. In other words, knowing how politicians like to consider the ol’ bottom line, I contend that, unless there be stipulations saying otherwise, it would be inevitable that school districts would lay off the best teachers for money-saving purposes.  What I am trying to propose here is some kind of merit-pay-tenure hybrid that would be a nice compromise, making everyone happy.

This blog post has become a lot more about the politics in the teaching world and less about the movie.  I apologize for my passion.  I don’t claim to have all of the solutions, charts, and layouts of the brighter future of education.  I loved Waiting for Superman.  And if you choose to see it or have seen it, and are considering all that I have brought up here, keep in mind that the film’s runtime is 110 minutes.  David Guggenheim doesn’t have all of the answers either, at least not produced within the movie’s span.  He only covers a few parents who are very involved and dedicated to their little ones.  (I feel that much of the troubles in the schools begin at home with parents who choose not to possess the energy to invest in their own children’s lives and education.  And, just like in the teaching profession, every person has to do their part, take on their role.) However, you should most certainly enjoy and appreciate what is presented to you in this film.

I loved the movie.  It’s about a struggling married couple on the verge of divorce, but Derek Cianfrance and his post-production crew dexterously edit in heart-warming, delightful scenes that are highlights of Dean’s (Ryan Gosling) courtship of the very receptive Cindy (Michelle Williams), which serve as a mighty juxtaposition to where they fatefully end up as a couple.

Viewers of this film, be they verbally eloquent or not, will be naturally inclined to judge it as a real downer.  Like most couples, Dean and Cindy begin on quite a high note.  The boy, painfully devoid of self-esteem, uses his wit, charm, and smile to actually land the blond girl of his dreams.  But then, time and choices plague them to the point of destruction.  And there’s a kid involved.

Many may think this film is a testament to the death of love, the idea that it’s all a myth.  Not so.  One needs to consider the fact that this couple was quite young and immature when they sealed their respective fates.  The best segments of this work, in my opinion, are when the two first meet.  The positive energy they emit radiates off the screen and into your heart.  Dwell on this. (Somehow Ryan Gosling has not earned a Best Actor nod.  He, like many before him, may be on his way to a “Career Oscar.”)  Sure their shit gets all fucked up, but that doesn’t have to be you either.  Thematically, “Go with your gut” rings true, but, at the same time, “Learn from your mistakes” is triumphant.

True love takes time to develop.  Blue Valentine, with hints on the corruption of the American Dream as well, discusses this point.  So, don’t think about breaking up with your “significant other” after watching this flick.  Instead, take marked appreciation of the good times because they may not, or just may, last.

Looking back through history, each faction of young people via the artistic community expressed a sense of disillusion, disconnect, and dissatisfaction with social norms and expectations.  In short, they felt lost.  Post-WWI’s group were even called “The Lost Generation,” highlighted by the literary achievements of F. Scott Fitzgerald and a myriad of others, as the world put itself back together, only to have it splintered again a couple of decades later, making way for the “Beatniks” and, the ever-popular, “Hippies.”  Generation Hipster (Can I go there?) has our war/s too.  But this also is a time of incredible awareness, considering that we have throttled into an era that could arguably be labeled “post-Civil Rights Movement,” “post-feminism” and where more people anticipate earning higher levels of education than before.  Yeah, I know there is work still to be done in all of these areas; however, we have our president, we have our secretary of state, and these days a four-year degree is a “minimum requirement,” which was not the case for our parents. Progress has been made.

I bring all of this up to have you recognize that the characters of 500 Days are very modern, in terms of both their strengths and their flaws.  Tom, portrayed by the absurdly talented Joseph Gordon-Levitt, is in his mid-twenties and still trying to “figure it all out.”  He’d made his way through college, studying architecture, just to be passed over by a few potential employers in the fleeting months after graduation.  “Life happened” and he finds himself half-assedly designing greeting cards for a steady paycheck.  Viewers never get a sense that Tom will be a lifer in that position.  Summer, played by Zooey Deschanel (once I start to register accurate adjectives of approval for that woman, there will ultimately be a tally of an embarrassing number), is, like Tom, a Los Angeles transplant.  From Michigan, she claims to have landed on the left coast simply due to boredom.  We come to know that Summer was well-traveled and freely explored her sexuality.  Upon meeting and (merely) “liking” Tom, Summer declares that she isn’t “looking for anything serious,” which she understands might “freak some guys out.” While these aspects of their backgrounds link them to those “lost” folk of the past, the reasons for this lack of focus and absence of goals is quite different.

Some say that “women in the workplace” has been the impetus behind the rising average age of marriage for both males and females.  Women now are taking their time, putting their career first, before settling down and having kids in their thirties, as opposed to their twenties.  Others speculate that folks marry later due to an increase in college education.  We hear less and less of people simply graduating high school, getting a job, and procreating by the time they’re 21.  Whichever the reason, or be it a combination of both along with other causes, men and women are “just dating” throughout their twenties and 500 Days does an impeccable job of illustrating the clashes that can transpire in our lost generation of hipsters.

How many times, youngish people, have you been in dating situations where either the girl or guy announced what Summer said to Tom about avoiding a “serious” relationship?  How often have you said or heard “Yeah, no pressure”?  Who has uttered to another that they’re “Just friends,” knowing full-well it was more than that?  And “Let’s not label this” is another popular one.  All of these lines are featured in 500 Days.  These key points of dialogue, along with obviously making the movie most relative to Gen-Hipsters’ instances of “hanging out” with members of the opposite sex, drive the conflict forward.  Ironically, in this story, the male is the perpetrator of couple-hood, while it is the femme fatale seeking a more open set of circumstances.  However, Tom complies with Summer’s demands, I guess, in the name of being “progressive.”  He’s the one with the testicles.  Tom should just be happy with getting laid and not allow fucking feelings and emotions to get in the way, right?  But he does.  This causes much distress for our protagonist, while Summer’s emotions are remarkably collected.  She just goes with it.  At one point, Tom’s drunken friend McKenzie (played by the guy who inconceivably gets to nail Christina Hendricks whenever he wants to) even calls Summer “a dude.”

In The Graduate, Benjamin is asked several times, “What’s wrong?”  He is unsure about his future, to say the least.  Grad school?  Career?  Marriage?  Kids?  He’d rather spend his time “just drifting” on a water mattress in his parent’s pool.  Ultimately, viewers of 500 Days don’t see anything wrong with Tom and Summer; they are empathetic figures.  We’re drifting right alongside them.  In stark contrast to Benjamin and Elaine (Sure they get together, but, at best, their ultimate fate as a couple is quite uncertain; just look at their expressions while on the bus.), Tom and Summer reveal that there is hope at this film’s conclusion.  Summer gets married and Tom meets Autumn, but only when he reemerges a more confident man with a straight set of priorities and reassurance.  Our generation is simply experiencing a prolonged adolescence, both similar and contrasting to those before us.  We have this heightened awareness of possibilities and potential that paradoxically has a stunting effect on our maturing process.  Dating in the “Aughts” then features a tricky terrain because of this.  So, we must struggle and “beat on, boats against the current.”  But we’ll have our “one fine morning” when we figure it all out.