The Real Relation;
The Underlying Theme
I love I Love You, Man
BY GREGORY
It’s funny, how a movie sneaks up on you and becomes a part of your world (or at least provides a functional summary
thereof). Case in point: I Love You, Man, -- which first pinged my radar in a remarkably unpleasant men’s lavatory, via
one of those paid-ad frame thingies which do little to enhance the urination process. I glanced briefly at that mini-poster,
and thought: “Oh, whee, another one of those loud, smart-alecky pottymouth movies with which the marketplace is
glutted of late; oh, fie, think I’ll give it a miss!”
Except later, upon the night of this writing, I encountered a weird guy who lives nearby, and he mentioned an imminent
screening of I Love You, Man -- and would I be attending? I thought: No. He said: Ferrigno’s in it. I thought: Maybe…
But people, since you’ve always wanted to know how an award-winning writer and pop pundit actually thinks, lemme
lay it on ya: No plans; no girlfriend; no particularly interesting food in the fridge; lots of internet access. Thus it was that
-- literally counting the seconds with regard to whether or not I would actually have a chance of catching the screening
on time -- I sat down to “research” I Love You, Man. (I love living in the future, btw; it is so risk-aversive.) And it was
during this process that I beheld the following casting information:
“Rush as themselves.”
I set a land-speed record to the cinema.
Now here’s the thing: Most critics seem to be reviewing I Love You, Man via the screwed-up context of The 40-Year-
Old Knocked-Up Superbad Step-Brother Pineapple Crashers -- but I think this movie is superior to all of those. I Love
You, Man clicks with me. I like it. I find it relatable (even when it’s not). And although its human relationships are, at
times, implausible and cartoonish, nevertheless its many laughs -- even the cheap, crude ones (no shortage, though
there’s plenty more to it) -- feel earned and real.
The plot itself is impressively simple: Realtor (Paul Rudd) proposes to Girl (Rashida Jones); Girl’s Catty Friends (Jaime
Pressly, etc.) mock Realtor for having no significant Male Friends; Realtor (natch) quests for Male Friends (including
awkward gay entanglement with goddammed hilarious Thomas Lennon); Realtor (double-natch) finds one AWESOME
Male Friend (Jason Segel); Girl gets pissy because suddenly Realtor is having a good time without her; Third Act
Kerfuffle Ensues; Happy Ending.
What I like so much about I Love You, Man, though, may be broken up into five general categories, being: 1. The Core
Conceit; 2. The Fun Filigree; 3. The Comedic Timing & Behavioural Weirdness; 4. The Sprawling, Region-Specific
Valentine to the Good Parts of L.A.; and 5. The Rush Montages. So check it out:
1. The Core Conceit…is total bullshit. Everybody knows that realtors are shallow, greedy scum, and the woman to
whom this realtor proposes is exactly the sort of raspy, rabid little dime-a-hundred hypocritical skank (tells girlfriends
ALL her partner's sexual details; gets enraged when he shares even a bit with male friend) who’ll divorce him anyway the
very millisecond that his portfolio peaks. This is the real L.A. I am describing here -- I see it every single (pun intended)
day, and these sorts of people are, in reality, useless and horrible. (Don’t believe me? Come take a look!) Thus, whether
or not director and co-writer John Hamburg intended it, his movie is the broadest sort of fantasy, scantly concealing a
seething sociopathic underbelly -- and I dig it all the more for it! While some ticket-buying kid in Belarus or Seoul may
perceive only the surface fantasy, and thus start packing to move to this city where everything is apparently fish tacos
and Ferrigno fun (notably, big Lou -- as himself -- is depicted as beating a hasty retreat to Jackson Hole), the nasty
reality of this place only magnifies the already ample laughs for me. All the better that it wraps up with an “ideal” seaside
wedding in Santa Barbara; for has any balanced, happy and enduring couple ever emerged from such a ritual? Oh, and in
reality, are stoner-slackers like Segal’s character fun? Of course they’re not! But here we just swallow the Spicoli-esque
fantasy and run with it. A-OK with me.
2. The Fun Filigree…is wild and almost entirely five-star hilarious. From root-beer floats to rubbers, Bennigan’s to Billy
Ocean to blow-job soliloquies (our audience literally howled for a solid minute), the writing here is primo, grade-A pop
comedy. (Here’s the quote-whore rave I wish they would print:) I Love You, Man is the funniest American comedy
since Meet the Parents. (I mean that, actually.)
3. The Comedic Timing and Behavioural Weirdness…not coincidentally…rule. I Love You, Man features about fifty
times as many little awkward (thus, hilarious) moments than most average comedies. To name but one, when Rudd visits
Segel at the latter’s funky Venice Beach “man-cave” (complete with “masturbation station”), Segel, in the midst of
dismissing a pretty little conquest, absently mumbles, “Yeah, she’s a nice girl; I fucked her.” (Although I’m not of the
mind that constant rudeness is any sort of social catalyst -- except in a bad way -- this movie hits the ideal mix of
sweetness and rudeness.) To name but another wonderful bit of shtick, Rudd’s character is under the impression that he,
a novice bass-player, can deliver a convincing Jamaican accent (“Slahp de bay-ahss!”)…which is so spot-on perfect in
terms of people’s delusions that I know I’ll be parroting it for weeks. There are very few clinkers in this movie. Andy
Samberg as Rudd’s gay brother would be better off sticking to music video parodies, and the friend-questing montage to
The Cars is sluggish and ends in a bazooka-vomit gag which must have been a treat to film but isn’t actually funny
onscreen). Otherwise, oh, man, this movie is funny, smart-funny!
4. The Sprawling, Region-Specific Valentine to the Good Parts of L.A. is not only a virtual tourist guide to the region,
from its opening swoop through nighttime downtown L.A. (helicopter outtakes from wryly wicked co-star Jon
Favreau’s Iron Man?) to its crane-shot at the Grove, meandering along the Venice Boardwalk, under the Santa Monica
Pier (just like in Fletch), etc., etc., this is a rather gorgeously-lensed tribute to a severely screwed-up city. Rarely --
possibly never -- have I viewed an L.A.-centric movie which gets almost every single L.A. detail right: from yet another
useless little blonde in a minidress and fuck-me heels, to the maroon Volvo 240 parked on a Silver Lake street (the shot
only lasts a second -- but trust me, I lived there, and I’ve owned two of those: spot-on regional accuracy). The movie
even gets L.A.’s hellish smog right (as observed from the Ferrigno mansion; watch out for the framed Hulk shorts) --
but its only failing in this category (and it is a very pardonable one, as long as it is noted) is that, like so many L.A.-based
comedies before it, I Love You, Man foists upon us the notion that it is non-stop, zip-a-dee-doo-dah FUN!!! to live here
-- which, I very confidently assure you viewers in Belarus or Seoul who are considering relocating, IT IS NOT. (But
whatever; it’s a movie; have some laughs, and please use common sense.)
…and finally (and most delightfully)…
5. The Rush Montages…ROCK. Dig: Rush are the go-to band for wannabe-intellectual Gen-X white males who can’t
dance. (My hand would be up...but I can dance.) I have no clue how John Hamburg, in 2009 (!), got Rush to show up
in his movie and play “Limelight” live (behold Alex, Geddy and Neil in their glory) -- but, oh, how this nails a too-long-
neglected zeitgeist: The desire of all healthy, well-adjusted males to rock together. (Where was the power trio in Strange
Brew? Alas.) Granted, it is utterly ridiculous how much the dialogue oversells the band here, but when you see the
hilarious yet wonderfully sincere montages to “Limelight” and “Tom Sawyer” (amazingly, probably the band’s most
expensive songs to license; go, DreamWorks!), perhaps you’ll understand some of the longing in the hearts of
disenfranchised white males whose friends only want to sit around drinking beer and watching shitty sports
programming. Silly or not, in this movie the dream is made manifest.
So that’s a little taste of what you’re in for if you go see I Love You, Man -- and I rather think you should, because it’s
(hey, P.R., maybe print this one:) a smart, sensitive, gut-bustingly hilarious movie! Plus it’s got Jane Curtin in it, too.
And even though the twee soundtrack is a bit too formulaically...Juno-esque, it must be said that the dog-shit jokes work
wonderfully. What more do you need?
I am Gregory; and these -- for better and for worse -- these are my people. And I love them, man.
I Love You, Man
Entertainment Value: 11/13
Style: 11/13
Philosophical Insight: 10/13
-Gregory Weinkauf, 16 March, 2009
The Underlying Theme
I love I Love You, Man
BY GREGORY
It’s funny, how a movie sneaks up on you and becomes a part of your world (or at least provides a functional summary
thereof). Case in point: I Love You, Man, -- which first pinged my radar in a remarkably unpleasant men’s lavatory, via
one of those paid-ad frame thingies which do little to enhance the urination process. I glanced briefly at that mini-poster,
and thought: “Oh, whee, another one of those loud, smart-alecky pottymouth movies with which the marketplace is
glutted of late; oh, fie, think I’ll give it a miss!”
Except later, upon the night of this writing, I encountered a weird guy who lives nearby, and he mentioned an imminent
screening of I Love You, Man -- and would I be attending? I thought: No. He said: Ferrigno’s in it. I thought: Maybe…
But people, since you’ve always wanted to know how an award-winning writer and pop pundit actually thinks, lemme
lay it on ya: No plans; no girlfriend; no particularly interesting food in the fridge; lots of internet access. Thus it was that
-- literally counting the seconds with regard to whether or not I would actually have a chance of catching the screening
on time -- I sat down to “research” I Love You, Man. (I love living in the future, btw; it is so risk-aversive.) And it was
during this process that I beheld the following casting information:
“Rush as themselves.”
I set a land-speed record to the cinema.
Now here’s the thing: Most critics seem to be reviewing I Love You, Man via the screwed-up context of The 40-Year-
Old Knocked-Up Superbad Step-Brother Pineapple Crashers -- but I think this movie is superior to all of those. I Love
You, Man clicks with me. I like it. I find it relatable (even when it’s not). And although its human relationships are, at
times, implausible and cartoonish, nevertheless its many laughs -- even the cheap, crude ones (no shortage, though
there’s plenty more to it) -- feel earned and real.
The plot itself is impressively simple: Realtor (Paul Rudd) proposes to Girl (Rashida Jones); Girl’s Catty Friends (Jaime
Pressly, etc.) mock Realtor for having no significant Male Friends; Realtor (natch) quests for Male Friends (including
awkward gay entanglement with goddammed hilarious Thomas Lennon); Realtor (double-natch) finds one AWESOME
Male Friend (Jason Segel); Girl gets pissy because suddenly Realtor is having a good time without her; Third Act
Kerfuffle Ensues; Happy Ending.
What I like so much about I Love You, Man, though, may be broken up into five general categories, being: 1. The Core
Conceit; 2. The Fun Filigree; 3. The Comedic Timing & Behavioural Weirdness; 4. The Sprawling, Region-Specific
Valentine to the Good Parts of L.A.; and 5. The Rush Montages. So check it out:
1. The Core Conceit…is total bullshit. Everybody knows that realtors are shallow, greedy scum, and the woman to
whom this realtor proposes is exactly the sort of raspy, rabid little dime-a-hundred hypocritical skank (tells girlfriends
ALL her partner's sexual details; gets enraged when he shares even a bit with male friend) who’ll divorce him anyway the
very millisecond that his portfolio peaks. This is the real L.A. I am describing here -- I see it every single (pun intended)
day, and these sorts of people are, in reality, useless and horrible. (Don’t believe me? Come take a look!) Thus, whether
or not director and co-writer John Hamburg intended it, his movie is the broadest sort of fantasy, scantly concealing a
seething sociopathic underbelly -- and I dig it all the more for it! While some ticket-buying kid in Belarus or Seoul may
perceive only the surface fantasy, and thus start packing to move to this city where everything is apparently fish tacos
and Ferrigno fun (notably, big Lou -- as himself -- is depicted as beating a hasty retreat to Jackson Hole), the nasty
reality of this place only magnifies the already ample laughs for me. All the better that it wraps up with an “ideal” seaside
wedding in Santa Barbara; for has any balanced, happy and enduring couple ever emerged from such a ritual? Oh, and in
reality, are stoner-slackers like Segal’s character fun? Of course they’re not! But here we just swallow the Spicoli-esque
fantasy and run with it. A-OK with me.
2. The Fun Filigree…is wild and almost entirely five-star hilarious. From root-beer floats to rubbers, Bennigan’s to Billy
Ocean to blow-job soliloquies (our audience literally howled for a solid minute), the writing here is primo, grade-A pop
comedy. (Here’s the quote-whore rave I wish they would print:) I Love You, Man is the funniest American comedy
since Meet the Parents. (I mean that, actually.)
3. The Comedic Timing and Behavioural Weirdness…not coincidentally…rule. I Love You, Man features about fifty
times as many little awkward (thus, hilarious) moments than most average comedies. To name but one, when Rudd visits
Segel at the latter’s funky Venice Beach “man-cave” (complete with “masturbation station”), Segel, in the midst of
dismissing a pretty little conquest, absently mumbles, “Yeah, she’s a nice girl; I fucked her.” (Although I’m not of the
mind that constant rudeness is any sort of social catalyst -- except in a bad way -- this movie hits the ideal mix of
sweetness and rudeness.) To name but another wonderful bit of shtick, Rudd’s character is under the impression that he,
a novice bass-player, can deliver a convincing Jamaican accent (“Slahp de bay-ahss!”)…which is so spot-on perfect in
terms of people’s delusions that I know I’ll be parroting it for weeks. There are very few clinkers in this movie. Andy
Samberg as Rudd’s gay brother would be better off sticking to music video parodies, and the friend-questing montage to
The Cars is sluggish and ends in a bazooka-vomit gag which must have been a treat to film but isn’t actually funny
onscreen). Otherwise, oh, man, this movie is funny, smart-funny!
4. The Sprawling, Region-Specific Valentine to the Good Parts of L.A. is not only a virtual tourist guide to the region,
from its opening swoop through nighttime downtown L.A. (helicopter outtakes from wryly wicked co-star Jon
Favreau’s Iron Man?) to its crane-shot at the Grove, meandering along the Venice Boardwalk, under the Santa Monica
Pier (just like in Fletch), etc., etc., this is a rather gorgeously-lensed tribute to a severely screwed-up city. Rarely --
possibly never -- have I viewed an L.A.-centric movie which gets almost every single L.A. detail right: from yet another
useless little blonde in a minidress and fuck-me heels, to the maroon Volvo 240 parked on a Silver Lake street (the shot
only lasts a second -- but trust me, I lived there, and I’ve owned two of those: spot-on regional accuracy). The movie
even gets L.A.’s hellish smog right (as observed from the Ferrigno mansion; watch out for the framed Hulk shorts) --
but its only failing in this category (and it is a very pardonable one, as long as it is noted) is that, like so many L.A.-based
comedies before it, I Love You, Man foists upon us the notion that it is non-stop, zip-a-dee-doo-dah FUN!!! to live here
-- which, I very confidently assure you viewers in Belarus or Seoul who are considering relocating, IT IS NOT. (But
whatever; it’s a movie; have some laughs, and please use common sense.)
…and finally (and most delightfully)…
5. The Rush Montages…ROCK. Dig: Rush are the go-to band for wannabe-intellectual Gen-X white males who can’t
dance. (My hand would be up...but I can dance.) I have no clue how John Hamburg, in 2009 (!), got Rush to show up
in his movie and play “Limelight” live (behold Alex, Geddy and Neil in their glory) -- but, oh, how this nails a too-long-
neglected zeitgeist: The desire of all healthy, well-adjusted males to rock together. (Where was the power trio in Strange
Brew? Alas.) Granted, it is utterly ridiculous how much the dialogue oversells the band here, but when you see the
hilarious yet wonderfully sincere montages to “Limelight” and “Tom Sawyer” (amazingly, probably the band’s most
expensive songs to license; go, DreamWorks!), perhaps you’ll understand some of the longing in the hearts of
disenfranchised white males whose friends only want to sit around drinking beer and watching shitty sports
programming. Silly or not, in this movie the dream is made manifest.
So that’s a little taste of what you’re in for if you go see I Love You, Man -- and I rather think you should, because it’s
(hey, P.R., maybe print this one:) a smart, sensitive, gut-bustingly hilarious movie! Plus it’s got Jane Curtin in it, too.
And even though the twee soundtrack is a bit too formulaically...Juno-esque, it must be said that the dog-shit jokes work
wonderfully. What more do you need?
I am Gregory; and these -- for better and for worse -- these are my people. And I love them, man.
I Love You, Man
Entertainment Value: 11/13
Style: 11/13
Philosophical Insight: 10/13
-Gregory Weinkauf, 16 March, 2009
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