Digging for Depth

Would it be stating the obvious to say that the suburbs are expensive and shallow?

When I got invited across the river to Cinebistro, it was because of a special one night event: the New York Film Critic series, the hook being a post-film Q & A with members of the cast and crew. As my friend put it, "It sounds pretty cool and I could use some cool points."

Fair enough.

The featured film was mumblecore director Joe Swanberg's "Digging for Fire," the 17th film for the 34-year old director. I'd seen my first mumblecore film back in 2012 (though until tonight I'd never heard the term "slackervetes," a brilliant reference to John Cassavetes), so I knew enough to expect improvised dialog.

What I didn't know to expect was how frigging expensive a night at the palatial-looking Cinebistro was, although I got a clue when I overheard an employee tell someone on the phone that the most expensive entree was $30 and the most costly app was $26. At a movie theater.

Oh, and tickets? A mere $33 for two and that's just for the cinema part. Forget about the bistro part.

Except we didn't of course, bellying up to the bar since we'd arrived an hour and a half before showtime. It passed quickly enough with a bottle of Broadbent Vino Verde, yellowfin tuna tacos and crispy brussels sprouts and cauliflower (appealingly seasoned with the North African spice mix ras el hanout) while we talked about our recent trips north and south.

Once permitted into the theater, we found ourselves impressed with the cushy seats and nonplussed about the trays connected to them, which felt a bit like those school chairs with the desk part that swings up for taking notes.

Three different servers tried to give us the spiel about when we could order, information we'd already been given at the bar, so we knew we had 20 minutes before we were on our own. Given that the evening had already cost enough to go to Lemaire, we decided to share a dessert ($9, by the way, at a movie theater) and buttered popcorn, which came in an asymmetrical china bowl.

Who knew seeing a movie in suburbia could be so pricey?

"Digging for Fire" turned out to be a movie about the state of a millennial marriage with a three year old. Husband and wife are both feeling the pinch of not having enough time to hang with their buddies like they used to or even to have enough time for themselves personally.

And because they're millennials who feel entitled to have everything their way, they talk about how tough this is. Then they act out.

It wasn't all scenes from a marriage, though, because the story begins when the couple goes to house-sit for one of the wife's yoga students (it's California where apparently this sort of thing happens) in a grand house that only serves to make their simple little lives seem inadequate.

Husband happens to find a rusty gun and a bone buried in the yard. He wants to keep digging and explore but Wifey says no dice. Let sleeping dogs lie.

But she's feeling dissatisfied with life, so she and the toddler take off to visit her Mom (appallingly stealing cash from her Mom's wallet for a hip black leather jacket) and step-dad (the always devastatingly handsome and deep-voiced Sam Elliott, this time sans mustache, but also appealingly talking about the self versus being part of a couple) for a weekend.

There's the requisite opposite sex flirtation for both of them (her dalliance involves a guy on a motorcycle, causing my date to say, "It would be a Norton") while they're apart, followed by her going back so they can shower together, declare their love and go out to breakfast alone (Grandma still has Junior).

We weren't 15 minutes into the film when my date leaned over and observed, "I don't like a single one of these people." Even by the end of the movie, we were certain that these were entitled brats still balking at adulthood despite having procreated.

Cry me a river.

The Q & A with Rolling Stone movie critic Peter Travers, the lead actor, producer and cinematographer (director Swanberg had planned to attend until his wife had delivered his child that day) afterwards took place in New York City and allowed people in theaters all over the country to ask questions about the movie and its participants, resulting in a mixture of interesting and tedious.

Most fascinating to me was that Swanberg had dedicated the movie to director Paul Mazursky - known for frequently addressing marriage/relationships and their hardships in his films - who died last year.

Far from mumblecore, Mazursky made often brilliant movies with dense, literate scripts that explored the changing roles in modern relationships.

I still remember how blown away I was by his film "An Unmarried Woman," which garnered Mazursky a nomination for best picture. It wasn't just that everyone in the movie seemed so real and relatable, it was that he dug into the depths of the characters, giving us a real sense of who these people were inside.

There wasn't much inside of the people in tonight's movie.

Ditto Cinebistro. Some cool points are just too expensive.