9.19.06: You know me, I'm no cakewalk.

So, this is probably just an excuse to harp on the BEST description of Zack Braff ever. In the review of The Last Kiss, the NYT got to refer to Braff as a, "mopey, wet noodle hipster," to which I reply, "Hurrah!" Totally. And don't we have enough of those?

Braff may still be cutting his directorial teeth, but Kiss just doesn't deliver on the level it should. I don't know what it says about my age that the plotline that really spoke to me was that of the moldy oldy parents. Also, I idolize Blythe Danner in a bizzare, unaccountable way. She is like that beach house in "Something's Gotta Give" where Diane Keaton lives--all perfect lines and angles, stark white walls, tasteful accents, and arresting style. Pure class. Yeah, I just compared Blythe Danner to a house, so what?

Thanks to my newly singleton living status, I have been catching less, but better, TV lately. I watched Woody Allen's "Bananas" last weekend, and this past weekend, I caught the tail-end of The Graduate. Braff really needs to just lock himself in a screening room and watch this move over and over and over again until it sinks in.

Forget Anne Bancroft's svelte leopard skin self (if you can) and remember that this movie just "gets it." It gets the young angst, don't wanna grow up, mystification with adult life motif better than anything ever did. It set the standard. Braff tries, but he never gets that perfect deadpan stare and blase' panic that Dustin Hoffman stares at you with as he rides away on the bus. And the score wasn't half bad either.