I just need to talk about Wanderlust for a second, and I hope you will indulge me.
Things I have said or thought:
- I’m getting really into yoga
- Green juice is SO GOOD FOR YOU
- Do I need to align my chakras?
So clearly, Wanderlust was made for me. I mean this in that I have vague ideas of what it means to be “centered,” I live in Manhattan and have become increasingly itching to leave the city, even if only for a weekend.
But even with these fleeting, insincere thoughts, the idea of a hippie community baffles me. For one thing, I find camping very challenging. I went to a music festival in Ireland one year, which isn’t even real camping—although, we were in a tent. Maybe it was worse than real camping. I’m not sure. What’s the expression one has for “paths lined with excrement,” “no showers,” “toilet paper shortage” etc.? I forget. It’s not called being a hippie anymore. That’s just what it felt like. Very Woodstock.
I’m not what you would call “outdoorsy.” For example, I have a very specific and regimented set of standards for sleeping. (This includes a glass of water on my nightstand table, perfect temperature—not too warm, not too cold, extreme darkness, and, sometimes, a white noise machine to drown out the noisy drunken assholes screaming outside my East Village apartment.)
But the idea of being good at camping or good at being someone who is slightly granola appeals to me. While my parents weren’t hippies per se, they did grow up in the hippie era. We have a lot of pictures of my mom flouncing around in daisy-patterned dresses and my dad with sideburns that probably applied for personhood status in the state of California, so substantial and significant were they.
So I get the appeal of all of it. Which is probably why, partially, I loved Wanderlust.
The other aspect probably has to do with my complete love and devotion to all things The State.
The basic premise of the movie—city slickers move to the country, a Green Acres for the hippie sect—is not necessarily new. But as this was a movie by David Wain and Ken Marino, they manage to breathe new life into the genre. Ugh. Don’t you hate that phrase, “breathe new life into the genre?” I make myself sick. Is this even a genre? I don’t think so. Whatever. All I’m saying is that I liked it. So there. Fine. We’re just there in this place where I tell you I liked this movie and it made me laugh and you’re like, okay, so?
I suppose I’m just mad—no, frustrated—that I had no idea that the movie was even affiliated with the same people who created Wet Hot American Summer. All I knew was that it had Paul Rudd and Jennifer Aniston as a married couple and that there was a weird hippie community. That is literally all I knew. And I didn’t even pay for seeing it! I am part of the problem. I saw it at a screening. I disgust myself.
Wanderlust made me laugh in a way that I hadn’t in a long time at the movies. I couldn’t stop laughing, in some scenes. I mean that: I literally could not stop myself from laughing, in a way that I have only experienced in some of my most favorite comedies.
Instead of pointing out what I liked about this movie, I’m just going to say that it’s dumb that they didn’t sell it well enough. They should have marketed it to a crowd that loved The State, but maybe they were worried that they wouldn’t have made their money back. The movie does have a lot of those flashing light bulb plotlines that seem predictable, but when you’re laughing, you tend not to care so much. When you have Paul Rudd acting like an asshole in front of a mirror or Joe Lo Truglio dangling his massive prosthetic dong in front of the camera or Kerri Kenney doing literally anything at all, I will laugh like a moron and not care. Oh and the dudes from Stella make an appearance. Michael and Michael and David! I can’t even. It makes me too upset.
This (blog post, diatribe, whatever) is really not meant to make you do anything. It’s also really way too late — nobody went to see this movie and I guess that’s okay. Que sera sera, you know? But I just want to say that I thought this movie was funny and it made me laugh and maybe it would make you laugh too. Not that this has to do with anything since everybody is just going to see The Hunger Games this weekend anyway. But if you’re not or it’s sold out, there are worse things you could see than Wanderlust.
P.S. Don’t give me that crap about not liking Jennifer Aniston. Literally no one likes Jennifer Aniston. Go see the movie anyway.