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My Dinner with Andre (1981)

Rate: 2
Viewed: 8/12

MyDinner
8/12: Uh, what dinner?

My Long-Winded Conversation with Andre is a tough film to sit through. My brain turned to mush not long into it. First of all, I want to take a look at the surrounding environment. Neither Andre nor Wally is eating much. The bread is never touched or given any thought. I don't think the glass of water was drunk, either. There are a few, if any, patrons at the restaurant.

The waiter seems annoyed by making faces of dejection. The bartender just stands there and does little. Easy pay, I suppose. Oh, did I mention that nearly everybody in the restaurant was white? And they're men? This is a relevant point that'll make sense later.

Okay, this is not the first time that the topic of discourse has been touched upon. In fact, it's probably the trillionth time. The question is: what's the meaning of life? Obviously, it's to live it. The film is a one big philosophical bore around it. No matter how often a dead horse is beaten, it's still a dead horse. There's no great enlightenment being made out of it. Life just goes on.

During the first hour of My Goddamn Boring Dinner with Andre, I ended up laughing so much because I couldn't believe at myself for watching such drivel. Are you fucking kidding me? This is what I'm watching? For two hours? This is a movie? This is a movie I'm going to watch for two hours? About two white New York males philosophizing about life? My fucking goodness.

Things would improve at the 90th minute mark when the diminutive Wally finally counterargued with the pseudo-intellectual Andre. Because these two are white, somewhat well-do guys, it makes a lot of difference. Those who are from New York City or one of these northeast states have a warped point of view about life compared to the people who live somewhere else like the South. That's how culture works.

Those who have money think differently from those who don't have money. White people think differently from those from other races. Diversity is made possible by various cultures. Males think differently from females. People with disabilities think differently from people without them. They all have varying points of view on the same topic. Yet, at the end of the day, nobody is right or wrong.

Thus, I don't see the point of watching a film about two white, somewhat well-do New York City males philosophizing about the meaning of life, but that's my misfortune of wasting two hours sitting through it. In a way, My Goddamn Fucking Boring Dinner with Andre feels like a contest in terms of who can throw more wise philosophical tidbits and come away looking magnanimous.

Wally's head appears ready to explode after spitting out lines with tongue sticking out through his teeth. I kept thinking that "Inconceivable!" would do. Of the three characters, I find the waiter to be the most interesting. There's a lot of character in his face, and he never has to speak. Oh yes, one last thing. Notice how Andre is harping on cutting out the noise. Mmm...*looking at him*...you see what's the problem here, yes?

All in all, My Truly Fucking Goddamn Boring Dinner with Andre is an endless blather about nothing.