Love in the Sunset

The films of Eric Rohmer haven't flown across my radar before. He's the last of the French New Wave directors and his recent death triggered eulogies and appreciations of his work. Wikipedia summed them up thusly: "Rohmer's films concentrate on intelligent, articulate protagonists who frequently fail to own up to their desires. The contrast between what they say and what they do fuels much of the drama in his films."

Many of Rohmer's movies are centered around male-female relationships and that was certainly true of the only movie of his I've managed to watch so far, "Boyfriends & Girlfriends." In this simple tale, two women befriend each other and then proceed to steal each other's men. Typical of his work, this movie features solidly middle class protagonists in their twenties, university educated and self-centered, seeking transitory satisfaction and an answer to their temporary problems. In short, Rohmer makes movies about us. Or movies about me and most of my friends at least.

Ninety percent of my friend circle consists of yuppies and most of our lives are focused on overcoming bourgeouis problems of career, shelter, romantic love, family, and looking for amusements in-between. Not having much perspective away from these mindsets, I can't safely say that these aren't problems everyone faces but taking the long view, they all seem to be incredibly shallow perspirations. A lot of effort is expended searching for an elusive happiness that rarely maintains. Often it seems like a cartoonish series of thumbs stuck in leaky holes while a different section of the good ship lollipop falls apart.

Then again, what else is there? That's what we're all trying to figure out I think. Will diving into the Rohmer oeuvre help? I hope so because I've Netflixed them all and would like some answers from someone, even a dead French guy.

Richard Linklater's "Before Sunrise" bears Rohmer's fingerprint indelibly and that 105 minute stroll through Paris with Ethan and Julie has influenced me for over a decade. It's made me seek a sudden thrill ride in friendships. The rush of not knowing someone on a Saturday night and then being best friends by Sunday morning, having covered too many topics to recount but still unable to answer simple questions such as "What's your last name?" and "Which one's your car?"

The world changes the morning after you part, having spent twelve hours engaged in conversation catapulting from getting to know you formalities toward secret fears and revealing idiosyncrasies. It's a rush that's hard to recreate, or sustain, and you can only have it once per friend. So where's the next hit coming from? And how high will it take me? Most importantly, does a rush like this set the foundation for the best type friendship or for a devolving slope of incremental highs and lows? I'm not sure these questions matter anymore because as these experiences come along increasingly rarely, I appreciate and treasure each one without wondering what may follow.

The other night I picked up such a new friend and we took a late night drive with windows down, music pumping, and coffee and cigarettes at the ready. With only forty five minutes until sunrise, we had to complete our nocturnal adventure and end up beach side at precisely the right time. We took local streets to Pacific Beach, past Garnet Avenue, where tattoo shops, sushi dives, and trendy clothing shops line both sides. On most nights, recently graduated frat douches and their nontourages prowl the abundant bars and clubs. After-hours Pacific Beach still has all the eye-catching storefronts but without the bother of the people; it's my favorite place for late night cruising.

I used to do this exact drive many years ago, with a friend that also loved late nights, loud music, djarum cloves, and craptastic coffee. As I steered the car through the winding roads toward La Jolla, we ended up at Windansea a little late, after the sun had already lit up the sky. Windansea is another treasured spot for me, where I used to go with my former best friend for conversations and catch up. She lived ten minutes away and I'd pick her up as she slipped out the front door in the middle of the night. From high school and on, that was our routine. For years and years and years.

Old places, new spaces.

"Beautiful girls all over the world
I could be chasing but my time would be wasted
They got nothing on you baby
Nothing on you baby
They might say hi and I might say hey
But you shouldn't worry about what they say
Cos they got nothing on you baby
Nothing on you baby"
-B.o.B, "Nothin' On You"-