The story is told primarily from the perspective of Miles, a middle-school English teacher and aspiring novelist. It comes across auto-biographical, almost diary-like and as such is self-absorbed and self-pitying. It took me back to a time in my life when I was much younger than the Miles character and shared his misanthropic pleas - to no one in particular - to be noticed, to be seen, to be loved for who I was deep-down. Ugh.
For some reason, incomprehensible to Miles, his ex-wife, women in general for the matter, don't seem to understand him, don't appreciate his gentle soulful, sensitive, romantic spirit. Double ugh. Never mind that he is an aging, out-of-shape, unattractive, depressive failure. Oh no. Those qualities are unimportant. The source of his troubles lie elsewhere, but not within.
And so he seems to feel that these issues need not be addressed. I felt embarrassingly old at 22 or 23 when I learned that they did, that we're responsible for our own lives, that if we're unhappy we need to do something constructive to change, to grow. Miles opts instead to whine and moan, to wave his fists in the air and stomp his feet on the ground like a spoiled child demanding what he wants, insisting that he be loved. He never learned and because of the film's masturbatory tone never does learn that to be loved we must first love ourselves - for the gifts we were fortunate enough to be born with and, perhaps more importantly, for the pride that comes of making a disciplined effort to improve.
The film is a fantasy. And an irresponsible one. It tells us we need only wait, that sooner or later the perfect girl will come along and she will be not only our intellectual equal, sensitive, kind and talented, but sexy and beautiful to boot. She will accept us willingly, eager, passionately - "as is". It's tough to sell a car that way, let alone a philosophy. I for one ain't buying.
I'm reminded of a small French film, The Hairdresser's Husband, which was also a masturbatory fantasy, but made no bones about it. It's tone was playful and silly, it's ending tragic. In that way it was more realistic. We come away sad, but without feeling lied to.
Sideways had plot flaws in addition to thematic ones. I could not see Miles and Jack and friends. They had little or nothing in common. It was left unexplained how Jack's in-laws did not question his rather odd decision to spend the last week before his wedding not with his fiancé making final plans or providing emotional support, but in the company of a male friend trekking across the California wine country. A despicable act of thievery by Miles is left hanging, unexamined, unatoned-for.
All in all a major disappointment especially given the word-of-mouth hype and Oscar buzz.
For some reason, incomprehensible to Miles, his ex-wife, women in general for the matter, don't seem to understand him, don't appreciate his gentle soulful, sensitive, romantic spirit. Double ugh. Never mind that he is an aging, out-of-shape, unattractive, depressive failure. Oh no. Those qualities are unimportant. The source of his troubles lie elsewhere, but not within.
And so he seems to feel that these issues need not be addressed. I felt embarrassingly old at 22 or 23 when I learned that they did, that we're responsible for our own lives, that if we're unhappy we need to do something constructive to change, to grow. Miles opts instead to whine and moan, to wave his fists in the air and stomp his feet on the ground like a spoiled child demanding what he wants, insisting that he be loved. He never learned and because of the film's masturbatory tone never does learn that to be loved we must first love ourselves - for the gifts we were fortunate enough to be born with and, perhaps more importantly, for the pride that comes of making a disciplined effort to improve.
The film is a fantasy. And an irresponsible one. It tells us we need only wait, that sooner or later the perfect girl will come along and she will be not only our intellectual equal, sensitive, kind and talented, but sexy and beautiful to boot. She will accept us willingly, eager, passionately - "as is". It's tough to sell a car that way, let alone a philosophy. I for one ain't buying.
I'm reminded of a small French film, The Hairdresser's Husband, which was also a masturbatory fantasy, but made no bones about it. It's tone was playful and silly, it's ending tragic. In that way it was more realistic. We come away sad, but without feeling lied to.
Sideways had plot flaws in addition to thematic ones. I could not see Miles and Jack and friends. They had little or nothing in common. It was left unexplained how Jack's in-laws did not question his rather odd decision to spend the last week before his wedding not with his fiancé making final plans or providing emotional support, but in the company of a male friend trekking across the California wine country. A despicable act of thievery by Miles is left hanging, unexamined, unatoned-for.
All in all a major disappointment especially given the word-of-mouth hype and Oscar buzz.