Author Archives: Jay

The Colour of Joy

Sean and I got to see Inside Out again this past weekend (it was playing at the drive-in and yup, just as good the second time around). Pixar’s latest offers us a sweet and clever insight into the emotions ruling 11-year-old Riley’s brain – Joy, Sadness, Anger, Fear, and Disgust. These emotions are personified by colourful characters and truly wonderful voice talent (Amy Pohler, Phyllis Smith, Lewis Black, Bill Hader, Mindy Kaling). It was a real treat to see these emotions come to life, but between the laughter and tears, I also had some follow-up questions:

1. Why is Joy Caucasian?

Anger is a squat red guy, with matching red eyes and fire shooting out of his head. Disgust is green, naturally, with green hair and eyes. Sadness: blue, of course, with blue hair and eyes. Fear is purple, with – guess what! – purple hair and eyes. But for some reason Joy is a race, not a colour. Think she’s yellow? Look again. She’s a glowing peachy colour, and her eyes are big and blue and she’s got a cute little pixie cut. Joy is a white girl. This makes me vaguely uncomfortable.

2. Why is Sadness fat?

They made Sadness into a chubster in a turtleneck. They may as well have given her cats too, just to give her the complete Depressed Lady makeover. Her glasses cover almost her entire face and though we never see the emotions eating, we can imagine that she must eat the heck out of hers. Mint chocolate chip? No. Ben & Jerry’s cookie dough.

3. What gender are YOUR emotio Inside-Out-Father-Headquarters ns?

Riley’s emotions are mixed-gender. Anxiety is a dude, Disgust is a dudette. But her father’s emotions are all mustachioed men while her mother’s are all bespectacled ladies. Now, why might this be? Sean thought it might just be for simplicity’s sake. Her mother’s brain is instantly identifiable since all her emotions have the same drab haircut. Her father’s brain is even worse shape: it’s being run by a bunch of hockey-obsessed jerks (or soccer-obsessed, for international audiences). This felt uncomfortably stereotypical but got a big laugh from the jam-packed theatre because – haha – men never listen!

4. Why is Joy lone-wolfing it?

As a counsellor, I often find myself telling people that no emotion is necessarily good or bad because all might be helpful or have purpose. Certainly this movie does a good job of justifying Sadness, but I still feel like the balance is a little off-kilter. Sadness, Anger, Fear, Disgust: all could be said to be on one side of the positive-negative spectrum of emotions, while Joy is lonely on the other. It may be true that Amy Pohler is worth at least 3 Bill Haders but I still felt a little sad that she was representing positivity and light all by her lonesome. And when Joy went missing, everything went to hell, so it would seem that a little Hope or Excitement might have been a good pack up plan (though admittedly I understand why 5 characters were a manageable number from an engaging, story-telling point of view). Still, there are many emotions left out – which would you have liked to see?

5. What is your primary emotion?

It is clear from birth that Joy is running the show. She leads the other emotions and guides Riley’s experience, always striving for the perfect, happy day. Not so for Riley’s parents. Anger seems to helm the control console in her father’s brain. He does not seem to be an outwardly angry person, but maybe we’re once again short-hand stereotyping anger as somehow masculine. Worse still, Riley’s mom’s primary emotion appears to be Sadness. She doesn’t seem depressed to us, but it made me feel blue to think of her every move being tinged by a pall of unhappiness. Who do you think is the captain of your ship? I think I might have Joy and Anger as co-pilots; I’m at my best when I’m in full-on snarky bitch mode.

Anyway, today my primary emotion is Anticipation! Just like Riley and her family, we’re about to embark on a San Francisco adventure (well, it’s our first stop, anyway) and I can’t wait to land there and be filled with Joy and Excitement and Wonder and Dread of Eventually Going Back to Work, which is too a legit emotion as I have it ALL THE TIME. While the Assholes are in California we’ll be posting about our favourite movies as they relate to our sight-seeing adventures, so please keep checking in to see what we’re up to next – and if you’re feeling brave, follow us on Twitter ( @assholemovies ) to see things like Jay’s contemptuous travel face, Sean’s hungry frown, an orange blur that might be the Golden Gate Bridge, 13 pictures of Jack Nicholson’s star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame obscured by half of Jay’s fat finger, Matt riding a train off into the sunset like he’s in some kind of goddamned movie. It’ll be good times, I promise!

A Star Is Born (1954)

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“The public loves me” slurs a drunken Norman Maine, and that may be so, but the press and the studio heads have had just about enough of his shenanigans. His star’s been dimming, his films flopping, and he’s aging in the wrong direction. It’s a wonder to Vicki Lester that he’s still in pictures at all – this after he’s crashed her starring number on stage.

MV5BODMyYjJhZjgtOTlhMy00MzZmLWIxOTYtMGYxZjkwZDc5NjhlXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMjU4NzU2OTA@._V1_SY1000_CR0,0,795,1000_AL_ She agrees to go out with him because he’s still quite charming, and perhaps his fame dazzles her. Certainly it’s easy for a less-naive girl like me to shout at her angrily. He’s already been a drunken, selfish buffoon. Usually you have to sleep with them and get half-attached before they show their true colours, but Norman (James Mason) laid all his ugly cards out on the table for her, and Vicki (Judy Garland), with stars in her eyes, was just too dumb to notice. And as if dinner wasn’t bad enough, she risks everything she’s ever worked for to skip out on her tour and go out for a screen test on his say so. I can’t tell if she’s a star-fucker or if she’s just willing to put out in order to advance her career. Oh, I know, I know: this version of A Star Is Born, a pretty faithful remake of the one previous, is beloved. And apparently romantic, though it must be said, this feels very much like a one-woman show. A fine show, a spectacle. Garland is a phenom. But you get the feeling that her co-star may have felt as eclipsed as his onscreen persona.

The studio cut out 30 minutes of film against the director’s wishes. The version I rented was a “restored” 176-minute version that uses production stills in place of the missing footage, layered with flawlessly restored dialogue. Still, it’s kind of frustrating. The camera pans over photographs for an extra 30 minutes of run time, which brings this baby up to 3 hours. It’s a lot. It’s too much. Though it still feels shorter than the Barbra Streisand monstrosity which is technically shorter but suffers from the bloat.

Anyway, as wonderful as Judy Garland is, I’m finding my tolerance for bad men to be low. Or at least, for pretending that bad men are good. Any woman with half a cell in her pretty little head should have seen this trainwreck coming a mile away. Norman Maine sends up all the flares, all the red flags. If Vicki had had a mother or a sister or a best friend, that man would have had the Beyonce treatment long ago, and A Star would have been Born much quicker, much hotter, without an ugly old asteroid holding her down.

[The Beyonce treatment, sing it with me: to the left, to the left, everything you own in a box to the left.]

We are never, ever, ever getting back together.

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Some movies you could watch a million times, quote every line, and never get enough.

Other movies, you regret seeing even the once.

Somewhere in between is a movie that you’re glad you watched, but that you know you’ll never revisit. These are mine:

Monster – Stupidly, I bought this one. Does anyone need a copy of Monster? I won’t be using it. Based on the real monster life events of Aileen Wuornos, who Charlize Theron plays to perfection. Maybe a little too perfectly? This woman was convicted of murdering 6 men, but that’s not the worst of it. Aileen is a prostitute who gets beaten and raped by a client. She wants to quit the life but can’t find any legitimate work and her girlfriend wants to be supported in the matter to which she’s become accustomed. Going back to prostitution, she can’t control her anxiety and believes that every john is out to hurt her – so, she kills them first, and takes their money. It’s never easy to see ruthless murder on film, but it’s so much worse when you’ve seen the back story and understand where all the pain and fear is coming from – and it infects you too.

Inglorious Basterds – Quentin Tarantino presents us with an alternate history where Jewish-American soldiers assassinate N deliverance4 azi political leadership and brutally murder German soldiers. We went to see this in the theatre, and thing about Tarantino is, there’s no way you’re getting off easy. I was prepared for blood and guts. What I can’t shake is the sound the knife makes as it carves a swastika into victims’ foreheads.

Deliverance – Four friends go out into the woods to have themselves a little male bonding time in nature. Unfortunately, they happen upon some hillbillies who take some of the friends hostage, and force Ned Beatty onto his knees, bidding him to “squeal like a pig” as he is forcefully raped. It’s harsh and humiliating and just about as degrading as it gets – for him, and for us.

Antichrist – Should I even write this? If you’re a nice person, please turn away now. Do not read on. For the rest of you: Willem Dafoe and Charlotte Gainsbourg play a grieving couple who have recently lost a child. To cope with their pain, they retreat to a cabin in the woods whee he has crazy visions and she exhibits increasingly violent sexual behaviour, culminating in (last chance! turn away!) her snipping off her clitoris with a pair of rusty scissors after a pretty punishing round of frantic, joyless masturbation. Do I really need to explain why I’ll never watch this again?

Man Bites Dog – A mockumentary that’s anything but funny. A film crew follows around a charismatic serial killer. The murders get increasingly graphic and horrible. The rapes are just fucking brutal. But the haunting thing is that the film crew goes all Stockholm Syndrome and pretty soon they’re willing accomplices. Fucking harsh, man.

Anything Michael Haneke – This guy loves to make unwatchable films. Matt bravely made his way through Funny Games while I bore The White Ribbon, but not happily, I tell you. Not happily.

Anything with eyes – I have a super duper eye phobia and despise any movie with extreme close-ups with eyes. Worse still: blood shot eyes. Worse still: eyes being forcibly held open. A Clockwork Orange being the worst possible case.

Anything with shaving – Mostly just men shaving their necks. 99% of times it’s just shaving, but I am literally hiding behind my own fingers, certain that at any moment a major artery is about to be opened, accidentally, on purpose, I don’t care, I just can’t take the anxiety leading up to it. And then mostly they just wipe the shaving cream off and continue on with their days, but me? My blood pressure’s through the roof.

Anything where the dog dies. I can’t take dead dogs, whether or not they go to heaven.

So which movies can you never revisit – and why?

Made For TV?

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Grace of Monaco was supposed to be a brilliant piece of Oscar bait for Nicole Kidman but ended up getting so screwed up along the way that it went to small screen rather than the big one. I watched it recently (it’s available on Netflix) and I didn’t think it was awful, at least not god-awful, but it’s clear that something went wrong. That something seems to have been tension between director Olivier Dahan and distributor Harvey Weinstein. The film had two distinct cuts and the two men could never reconcile them. The screenwriter, caught in the middle, refused to attend the opening at Cannes because of the controversy. This isn’t the first time Weinstein has tried to intervene between a movie and its director; he tried to kill Snowpiercer and luckily didn’t succeed.

Both the script and the direction feel wooden. There’s no blood running through the grace-of-monaco-vogue-3-13may14-pr_b veins of this movie. Physically, Kidman embodies the role of Grace Kelly, especially as a newish princess still trying to make the transition between royalty and Hollywood. The actual royal family, children of Grace Kelly and Prince Rainier, have gone on record that this is a patently inaccurate recounting, fictionalized, fabricated, pointed not a biopic. Either way, Nicole doesn’t do Grace justice. She seems blank a lot of the time, and the performance is uneven. Tim Roth as Rainier isn’t any more inspiring.

So this movie went from getting booed at Cannes to being released on Lifetime, and then straight to video on demand where presumably it can hang out with other ill-conceived disappointments like the Jennifer Lawrence-Bradley Cooper piece of crap everyone wants to forget about, Serena.

Meanwhile, Lifetime is ramping up its cred by making fun of its own reputation. At least, I thought the Lifetime movie A Deadly Adoption was supposed to be a parody. I mean, you cast Kristen Wiig and Will Ferrell and I just assumed. The movie, though, doesn’t really feel that way until the last 15 minutes or so. Up until then, Wiig and Ferrell are a little too earnest, their parts and the story a little too straight. It’s actually pretty straight up Lifetime sexual thriller, with requisite DAUGHTER WITH A DISEASE!, REVENGE PLOT WITH A TWIST!, and my favourite, SLOW MOTION FOR MAXIMUM DRAMATIC IMPACT!

I actually felt pretty deflated about this movie. I was expecting something a little more…good? Entertaining? Funny? Worthwhile? Subversive? I don’t really get what was in it for Wiig and Ferrell. Is this a James Franco on that soap opera thing? Like, I’m so square I’m cool? I’m so big I can do anything? If so, it was largely lost on me. I’m voting missed opportunity.

Have you seen either of these? Or anything else on TV that rose above or crashed and burned?

Mark Wahlberg, Hollywood Pinup

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Sure he’s got a slew of forgettable films, interchangeable even (do you know the difference between 2 Guns and Shooter?) but you have to admit, he’s also got some interesting blips.

Ted 2 is not an interesting blip, by the way. It’s pointlessly unamusing with all the same inane cameos as Entourage.

Palette cleanser!

Mark Wahlberg is a pretty straight-forward guy. He’s often not so much acting as working. You know, just showing up, gettin er done, home in time for spaghetti. He doesn’t always pick his projects with much judiciousness, he gets as many wrong as he gets right, but the stuff he gets right is actually pretty great. Like, two Oscar nominations great. Who would have guessed?

Blip: Boogie Nights – He was pretty good in Basketball Diaries and I suppose even in Renaissance Man, but Paul Thomas Anderson put Marky Mark on the map with this ode to the porn industry. Wahlberg’s portrayal is fearless and unassuming and no one saw it coming. The entire cast is stunning but few could have anticipated how well Wahlberg would hold his own against heavyweights like Julianne Moore and Philip Seymour Hoffman

Blip: I Heart Huckabees – I heart this movie right to death. David O. Russell gave Wahlberg a juicy part in Three Kings but this movie really hits it out of the park for me. His character is such an interestingly layered mix of macho and whimsical, fevered and confused. He’s a man on the cusp but manages to play his existential crisis with sincerity and commitment.

Blip: The Departed – Mark Wahlberg nearly steals the whole show for me in this one. The ensemble is crazy packed with exceedingly good performances, but his angry, explosive detective really takes the cake. He stole scenes not easily stolen. He clearly relished the role of Sgt. Dignam and you’ll find yourself not able, or willing, to take your eyes off him.

Blip: The Fighter – Christian Bale is probably the acting antithesis of Mark Wahlberg, being all method and shit. Bale took home an Oscar for his part but Wahlberg gave a captivating performance as well, throwing himself into the role and taking a pay cut just to get the thing made.

Is it weird that the guy who did the worst Transformers and talks to a vulgar teddy bear is neck in neck with Damon and DiCaprio for best actor of his generation? Of course it is. But his grosses are consistent and these flares that he keeps sending up, these blips of excellent roles, well, they’re coming regularly enough that you have to wonder if they’re not just blips. What if Marky Mark is the real deal?

Magic Mike XXL

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(You don’t have to watch this video, you should just hit play and let this be the soundtrack for the post)

I saw the first Magic Mike accidentally-on purpose and barely lived to tell the tale. I’d never meant to see the movie. Not my thing, and aside from a mild curiosity about Mr. McConaughey’s involvement, I could have lived a happy life never having seen it. But then one (Canadian) Thanksgiving we were drivi first ng home from Boston having just watched the Patriots slaughter the Broncos and stayed the night in a hotel (motel? Holiday Inn?) with very limited options. We ordered a not very good pizza and settled in to watch a not very good movie.

I’m just not titillated by male strippers. I’m not often titillated by the male body, period. I enjoy my husband’s body a great deal and could drink him in all day long, but that’s different. It’s not fetishistic. I have never seen a man who looks good in a thong. Never. And last night in Magic Mike XXL I saw at least a dozen buff men dancing around in them, and nothing. Well, not true. Nothing would be an upgrade. I was turned off. It’s a turn-off. And when the thing that’s meant to be sexy ends up soliciting a laugh instead, you’ve pretty much killed the moment.

And there was A LOT of moment-killing in this movie. Because the truth is, I’m not really excited by male dancers either. I mean, I’m pretty sure that 98% of male dancers are gay, and about 99.9% of male strippers are gay, and somehow this movie assembles America’s only hetero male entertainers into one beefy troupe, sharing chest-waxingly, body oilingly super straight good times. Me? I prefer a man who can’t dance. Can’t, but will. A man who can dance will always arouse my suspicions.

And while we’re at it, I’m not really into the whole hard body phenomenon either. I get that I’m supposed to find it attractive, but I just don’t. That body makes me think this guy is going to take me to dinner, order a salad with dressing on the side, and then pick at it while he sniffs at my bleeding steak. And that he’ll spend three hours a day at the gym, leaving me to watch The Mindy Project alone. And that his eyes will seek out his own reflection instead of mine. And what use is a man who isn’t checking me out?

So yeah, Magic Mike isn’t exactly aimed at people like me. I think it’s marketed to housewives but appreciated by a certain 10% of men who shall remain nameless. But they’re definitely doing their best to draw a female audience; certainly the female fans in the movie are more robust than ever, covering a multitude of body shapes and colours and ages (and a sinfully wonderful though underused Andie McDowell), speaking directly to the audience it hopes to tap. And this sequel is a little les magicgif s self-conscious than the first. It doesn’t get in on the joke exactly, but it takes itself a little less seriously, or at least that’s how I’ve interpreted the lack of script or plot.

Sorry Channing Tatum and company (the boys who didn’t have speaking parts in the first film but who must step up to fill the holes left by Matthew McConaughey and Alex Pettyfer in the second), but you aren’t exactly known for your improv prowess. But we all know the scenes between dance numbers are just filler, and this isn’t really even trying to be a movie so much as a soft-core musical montage. But every time the music started up, I blushed and averted my eyes. Oh lord, I’d think, again? Yes, again. And again. And again. There’s more self-fondling, shirt-ripping, edible props, self-tanner, and earnest eyebrow plucking than you can shake a stick at. Tatum’s convinced that you think he’s handsome in his backwards cap, and it becomes ubiquitous. There are so many gyrations with penis stand-ins that I couldn’t make eye contact with anyone for hours after leaving the theatre. I’m not a prude, I just have a low tolerance for people embarrassing themselves. I’m not sure if I’ve just seen the gayest straight movie or the straightest gay one, and it doesn’t really matter. This is just not a sausage party I care to be invited to.

Happy Canada Day!

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It’s rainy and gray in the Nation’s Capital (a perfect movie day, some might say – Magic Mike, anyone?) and what better way to celebrate our fine country’s 148th year than with a great source of national pride – Blame Canada, as it appeared in the glorious 1999 film South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut.

This song was actually nominated for an Oscar that year, controversial because how on earth would they perform let alone televise a song that contained the gleeful use of the word FUCK? So they called in Mr. Squeaky Clean himself, Robin Williams, who turned his back to the audience at the crucial moment and allowed a backing chorus to gasp in its place. They left in all the best insults against former first lady Margaret Trudeau, Bryan Adams, Celine Dion, and of course that bitch Anne Murray too (who went on record as officially “not offended”).

Happy Canada Day, loves – may your barbecues and fireworks be unsoggy.

Forgive Me Father, For I Have Sinned

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I have a little ritual. Once a week, movie in, manicure kit out. Last week I wore 4-alarm blaze, this week I’m changing it up for Bahama Mama. It’s nice to know that in the crayon off-season, colour namers still have somewhere to go. A movie is a perfect length of time to do your nails, and wet nails are the perfect way to stop yourself from eating a whole bag of chips while watching the movie: win-win!

And truth be told, some movies require a modicum of distraction. I mean, this movie in particular is a little intense, and it’s nice to have somewhere else to focus when your senses start overloading. But for me, being a little deficient in attention, I tend to actually focus better if I’m doing 2 or 3 other things in addition to the movie watching, which is why I’m writing to you, while watching a movie, while painting my nails. At work.

I’m watching Calvary, which is a brilliant character study of a priest going through a rough patch. Father James (Brendan Gleeson, wonderfully) sits in confession one Sunday and a parishioner confesses that he was molested as a child, by a priest. His abuser is long dead; instead, he plans on making a good priest pay. That good priest, it would seem, is to be Father James. The date is set for a week hence – Father James will die for the sins of the church.

Father James goes about helping the people of his parish – a butcher (Chris O’Dowd) being cuckholded, his own daughter fresh from a suicide attempt, a cynical and atheistic doctor, and a young man in prison for killing and eating beautiful women, this last played by Gleeson’s son Domhnall (of Ex Machina, you may remember). Their scene together is pretty disturbing, and pretty great. Actually, the whole thing’s pretty great.

All the while, we’re wondering if it’s one of these parishioners (we’re introduced to a nice, round, biblical 12) who has threatened his life, so the interactions are tainted with underlying hostility and suspicion. We may not yet know who the would-be killer is, but Father James knows him. He knows his fate but keeps walking toward it. The movie’s cleverly put together, with plenty of hints in retrospect, sometimes uneven in tone as the humour and the violence circle around each other. The film deals with a difficult subject – sexual abuse in the church – in a circumspect manner; not so much head-on as from a spiritual angle looking into the black hole left by years of abuse and maybe worse still, its cover up.

I always like Gleeson but he’s top-notch in this. His weathered face fills the frame with truth and regret. Forgiveness, redemption, compassion, sacrifice: by the time you’ve done your penance, your nails will be dry and you’ll be free to sin again.

Movie Masturbation Scenes to Get You Going Every Time

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The truth is, most masturbation in movies isn’t sexy at all. Awkward for sure. Embarrassing at times. Shameful. Painful. Or just downright scary. And that’s why I’ve decided to celebrate them with this post!

The Squid and The Whale – Owen Kline plays the younger of two kids belonging to Jeff Daniels and Laura Linney, who go through a rather stuffy and bitter divorce. Owen finds lots of ways to cope, but none creepier than when squid he uses a crinkled piece of porn to rub himself off against a book case in his school library, defiling some nearby books with his teenaged cum. You can’t help but see the symbolism as his parents are both bookish (a professor and a writer), a rejection of them and an assertion of himself. Oh Noah Baumach, there are some things we just can’t unsee you know.

American Beauty – There are many great components to this movie, and we’ve talked many of them to death, but I think that until now we’ve avoided the most telling and depressing scene of the movie. Our introduction to Kevin Spacey is when he’s alone in the shower, jerking himself off rather sadly and routinely, though describing these few moments as “the high point” of his day. Later we catch him masturbating yet again, fantasizing about his daughter’s teenage girlfriend, and unashamedly waking his wife in the process. They fight, of course, and the act feels really hostile, contemptuous of her, but at least he’s not hiding in the shower anymore. Spacey says “It’s a great thing when you realize you still have the ability to surprise yourself.”

Bad Lieutenant – There are many reasons why I’ll never really recover from watching this movie, but Harvey Keitel’s masturbation scene is still ranked really high on that list. A corrupt cop pulls over two teenage girls who are using their father’s car without his permission. Keitel forces one of the girls to strip while the other must simulate fellation while he masturbates. There is nothing arousing or hot about this scene. He’s not getting off on the girls, he’s getting off on his power. It’s repulsive, and on some level, even he knows it.

Little Children – In a nice side story to the prominent Kate Winslet one, a pedophile’s just been released from prison and his mama thinks he can turn his life around if only he could just meet the right woman. Cue the blind date, which seems to be going surprisingly well until he wordlessly pulls the car over at the end of the night, and starts masturbating while she’s trapped in the front seat with him…and they just happen to be parked right outside a playground. No word yet on date number two.

So what’s your favourite movie masturbation?

Odds & Ends – Netflix Edition

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The Longest Week – Jason Bateman plays a dependently wealthy man-child chronically working on (or at least thinking about) the great American novel until one day his parents cut him off, he gets evicted, and he shows up on his best friend’s (Billy Crudup) doorstep, begging for a place to stay. And this might have gone well if he didn’t immediately start crushing on and sleeping with his best friend’s girl (Olivia Wilde). Likeable leads. Aiming for quirky but falls into been there, done that.

Touchy Feely – Rosemarie DeWitt plays a massage therapist suddenly stricken with a complete aversion to touch. She can’t do her job anymore but that’s the least of it: all of her personal relationships start to suffer too. Luckily her brother the dentist starts to do really well healing his patients thanks to his daughter (Ellen Page) breeching protocol. The uptight family does some X and wander around and just like this movie, they never really go anywhere.

Life of Crime – Tim Robbins is a rich old white guy with a young, hot wife (Jennifer Aniston) but leaves his wife for a younger, hott life-of-crime er mistress (Isla Fisher). Too bad some dumb criminals pick this exact moment to kidnap the wife and demand a hefty ransom. Sure he has the money, but now that he thinks about, he wouldn’t mind if his wife just disappeared – in fact, it would save him on alimony. Not the best Elmore Leonard adaptation but solid, and sometimes charming.

The Giant Mechanical Man – Jenna Fischer plays a woman who’s a little too old to still not know what she wants to be when she grows up. Temping isn’t paying what it used to and she has to move in with her uppity little sister. She feels comforted by the giant mechanical man (Chris Messina) when she spots him around the city – one of those street performers who dress up like a metal statue and never move. Turns out the mechanical man is going through a transition period himself. His girlfriend’s left him because he spends his day wearing silver paint rather than being gainfully employed. The two finally meet when they both take jobs far below their stations, and bond over their common loserdom. It’s quietly sweet, but it’s hard not to think that Pam belongs with Jim, and Danny with Mindy. Call me crazy.