Every few months I find myself home alone on a Saturday night drinking. That is not a problem, and it might even happen this Saturday. But invariably one of those mumblecore films like Funny Ha Ha or Mutual Appreciation blank will come on IFC. It’s uncanny.
I have never been able to sit through a single one start to finish, but they always suck me for much longer periods of time than one would imagine. This is not to say that I like them. My mild repulsion stems from being just that much too old and under-educated, someone with zero patience for tiny born-in-the-'80s foibles.
This New York profile of Greta Gerwig, the go-to actress of the scene, solidified my apprehension with a single gesture. About her mainstream breakout role in Greenberg:
"She’s a girl whose clothes don’t fit very well ('We did the fitting,' Gerwig explains, 'and then I gained seven pounds; I thought her thighs needed to rub together')"
With little respect for the Bridget Joneses and Monsters, at least they went Hollywood big. Seven pounds? Even mumblecore's frumpy is a fail. No patience here for indie fat.
I’m also quite certain that the average American female adult does not have a gaping negative space between her thighs.
One thought on “Negative Space”
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