Sometimes I watch movies that I hate AND adore at the same time. Like “The Chumscrubber.”
Depth-less characters usually don’t thrill me, but they serve a purpose in this relatively unknown film. The words “routine” and “suburban” ought to be married, officially, in a state that condones same-meaning relationships. This movie is simply about people forgetting how to live, mucking around in their “every second is filled with something” existence and not really SEEING.
I’ll point my fingers at movies like “American Beauty,” “Donnie Darko” and even director David Lynch. I absolutely enjoy these type of movies, often letting them wash over me for DAYS after a viewing. If you can ignore the teen drama, you find something in “Chum” to like. I did.
This brings me to my second point. I have a terrible, empty feeling that most movie-goers or even book-readers really don’t let their guard down. Yes, their guard. We’ve grown so accustomed to remaining level-headed and down-to-earth that we’ve forgotten how to dream.
And how to suspend belief. I’m being sent to Chicago tomorrow, to cover the season opener for the White Sox.