Wristcutters: A Love Story – or – Cuddle Up And Crack Open A Vein.

This movie was given to me to watch. I didn't pick it out. There is no heart wrenching back story to why I would pick a movie with this title. I didn't know it existed before it was given to me, along with a whole bunch of other more-sweetly-titled movies, to watch on an airplane. I didn't watch it on an airplane. I took my sweet time getting around to it, but last night, after tossing around in my bed for a few hours, I gave up on trying to get any sleep and popped this movie in.



I'm not going to sit here and say shit like, "I not only loved the subtle nuances within the cinematography, scenery, and plot mechanics, but was pleasantly surprised by the subtle facial expressions utilized by the actors to express their character's emotional depth while never breaking out of the their constraining body casts dictated by the situations in which they find themselves."

Rather than say that and sound like a jerk, I'll just say that I really dig this movie. Even with it's seemingly pointless tangents and it's outright dark sense of humor, I found myself laughing, thinking, comparing similarities, pining for the days of a poolside walrus, and shortly there after, happily falling asleep.