peevish mama

There’s a Richard Linklater film series at the Walker and I plan to catch as many as I can. Dazed and Confused is possibly one of my favorite movies ever. It’s a stoner coming-of-age story, but ever so much more. By turns dark and hilarious, it manages to tell the story of a group of Texas teens with a light hand but huge insight, even affection. Not much happens, it’s sort of a day-in-the-life, but man, are you ever taken there – sitting on the warm hood of a car, shooting the shit with your buds. And Matthew McConaughy is brilliant as the affable, slightly post-peak BMOC. I just love it. Dash and I saw it in a crowded little theater in Boston, a place where it wasn’t out of the question to see a mouse scurrying for cover as you found your seat. More than any other director, Linklater felt like one of us, making movies about us. Like our lives at that point, his movies are short on action and long on conversation and ideas. I swear that I spent most of my early twenties just walking and talking. Nothing about that period of time is as vivid as the rambling. We were young, we needed to be moving, but there was so much to talk about. So we did both. I’m curious to see whether I’ll still find these movies compelling, now that I’m old-ish. I’ll soon find out. I’m suddenly in the mood for a good ramble, though.

Incidentally, if you have elementary school age kids and haven’t watched School of Rock with them, do it pronto. A more recent Linklater movie, it could have been stick-your-finger-down-your-throat saccharine, but it’s quite the opposite. It’s hysterical and uplifting and sorry, but Jack Black can sort of do no wrong in my book. So good.