The Smiths bit naturally piques me ("There Is a Light That Never Goes Out" is, in fact, Iain's and my song)—but I pay attention to the hints of what's really there, and I fear the film is ultimately fodder for Dr. Sady. Heart says yes; brain says no.
I'm hanging out on the fence, when KBlogz joins me and says: "You know what sucks? When indie films are the same as mainstream films, except they've got hand-drawn titles and the main characters wear fun sweaters. It's like—I like the sweaters; that's not the problem. It's that the sweaters sometimes try to trick me into seeing some tired, sexist rom-com shit."
I LOL'ed for ten years. 'Cuz, like, yeah. Exactly.
[If you've seen 500 Days of Summer, please leave your review in comments.]
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