Soon is now and here we are.
Last night, I went to the New York City premiere of Wolf of Wall Street. I think because as an individual I maintain equal parts blaring narcissism and empathy, appreciating a movie is particularly difficult based on the pretense that I have always and purportedly will always have a hard time divorcing who I am from what I am processing. Why, otherwise, would I be afraid to take an e-mail from my accountant this morning, knaamean?
In any case, though, and even in spite of my aversion toward sitting in a movie theater and feeling all the anxietal pressure I do during the humdrum of my own day on someone else’s behalf, I thoroughly enjoyed all three hours of the gluttonous and deeply greedy activity that performed before me. Leonardo DiCaprio is convincing-as-ass, Jonah Hill is hilarious in a respectable, not so ‘This is The End’ kind of way and Fran Lebowitz makes the most darling appearance at some point toward the end of the movie — which, pretty much sealed the deal for me.
My only concern, really, is the galvanization of such unjust, illegal activity. Much the same way I left the movie theater post Social Network googling names, completely mystified and captivated by the story I’d just learned, I find myself falling into a similar Wikipedia blackhole.
Okay, that’s it. It’s a great thing I’m not a movie critic, eh?