Who loves me, man?

It feels so long ago, I keep forgetting that I've already seen the film, but early this past December I was able to get myself into a very-early screening of the new Paul Rudd/Jason Segel comedy I Love You, Man, which hits theaters this weekend. As I expected, the film was/is a winner, capturing that same nice-cutesy humor of Forgetting Sarah Marshall, but with tons more effective supporting character actors elevating their respective scenes. You get J.K. Simmons (too briefly, frankly) going line-for-line with Andy Samberg, who plays Rudd's personal-trainer gay brother who happens to be more manly than his straight bro. There's the should-act-more Jon Favreau doing his best douchebag-ery as the husband of Rudd's fiancee's (Rashida Jones, aka "Ms. I Make Freckles Super Sexy") best friend (blonde jackpot Jamie Pressly). And then you even get an attractive new face, Sarah Burns, complete with slick comic timing and ample charm, leaving a lasting impression and begging the question, "Will she get more work? Because I'd really like that."


Pressly, Jones, Burns

Rudd as a leading man is as foolproof as you'd suspect, and Segel is much better here than he was in Forgetting Sarah Marshall, a high compliment since "Peter Brenner" was one of my favorite characters of 2008. In I Love You, Man, Segel does a great job of never showing his Ace card---is he a con artist, or simply a fun-loving, unassuming sweetheart? The chemistry between the two leads is a clear product of a tight off-screen friendship, an added bonus that gives their banter a naturalism that's impossible to dislike.

Chances are highly likely that I'll see it again this weekend, or one night next week. So I can both refresh my memory, and enjoy some good-natured entertainment in light of my recent theater-going choices: I've seen The Last House on the Left twice now, as well a double-viewing of Watchmen, and neither comes even centimeters near uplift. I have a feeling that this Clive Owen/Julia Roberts flick, Duplicity, will be a smile-friendly trip, and I'll be seeing that tomorrow, actually. Could this be a total reversal of film tone for yours truly? Not quite---I also plan on catching that new Nicolas Cage end-of-the-world flick Knowing this weekend, despite the fact that its a Nicolas Cage flick. The action scenes look good enough to bypass Cage's recent suck-a-thon streak. Which is going He-Man-strong.

Back to I Love You, Man, though, and it's central idea of a "bromance." No need to explain what that terms means; it's pretty self-explanatory. Besides, that brain-numbing sign of televisial apocalypse MTV's Bromance with Brody Jenner conveyed enough bad will to soil the expression into your mind like fossilized feces. I Love You, Man should rectify that manure-taste, thankfully, and give guy/guy interactions of the heterosexual stance a good name.



The question I've ben posing to myself, in relation to the film, is this: would one of my boys and I see this together? As in, would any of my boys be comfortable in self enough to make it a "movie night" with me, possibly even buying my ticket (okay, that part is a stretch, but was worth wondering about). Back in the days of high school and less "must enter at least one bar this weekend" requirements, I'm sure myself and a good five other dudes would gladly buy tickets and sit seat-by-seat for something like I Love You, Man. Times were much more innocent. Girls somewhat-less of a top priority on weekend evenings. This was a time when me letting a friend know about party approaching for a college friend or work acquaintance wouldn't have immediately been met with "Will there be any hot girls there? If not, I'm good, man. I'll pass." Call that selfishness, or shallowness, or just regular-old lameness. Whatever the case, the times of casually kicking it at the movies with my boys is fading away slowly. Which sucks, especially for a movie-addict such as myself, who'd gladly spend every weekend night at a cineplex over a bar.

Grabbing dinner with just one guy friend always feels acceptable. I'm all for it, and typically my other friends mirror the sentiment. Even showing ID at a bar's entrance before knocking back some Coronas is welcome consistently. So why not a movie? Is it the darkly-lit setting? Confusion as to whether we should sit at least one seat apart or not, assuming the theater isn't too crowded?


The Brokeback Mountain reference brings this pic to an out-of-context-to-my-post field, but some pics are too funny to avoid.

This isn't to say that none of my friends would be down to have a bromantic evening this weekend in front of I Love You, Man. Laughing alongside Rudd and Segel as they attend a Styx concert, or Segel foolishly picks a fight with Lou Ferrigno, or Rudd awkwardly coins the term "Slappin de bass." It's just that, honestly, I can only think of two such friends. Thus is the reality of growing up and becoming more bromantic with Johnnie Walker and/or Jack Daniels. I've accepted it. Moved forward. I get the feeling that movie-nights are seen as "childish." "Missed drunken-hookup-with-sloppy-bar-maven opportunities." That's hogwash to me, but I'm willing to gamble that I'm in the minority.

I'm ready to see I Love You, Man alone. Well, I do love myself, so maybe I'll be inventing a new male-faux-pas term in the process: Self-Love Story. Minus any necessary "Pause" or Billy Idol song allusions, of course.