His wardrobe consists entirely of a rotating selection of flannels, nondescript hoodies and “clever” T-shirts referencing something he would just love to explain to you if you wanna grab a coffee sometime. “Ahem, ‘Han Shot First’ refers to a terrible directorial decision Lucas made in ‘Episode Four,’ wait — are you familiar with ‘Star Wars’?” He speaks in movie quotes and one-liners, exiting every room with a loaded pause and an “I’ll be back,” waiting for some schmuck to snort, “Ha ha, Terminator.” He has no problem at all with Roman Polanski — in fact, he thinks he’s a genius, and he’ll have you know the art and the artist are separate, good Lord. If you don’t instantly nod at whatever movie name he’s dropping, this guy will lean back in his chair, throw his arms in the air and say for everyone to hear, “How on Earth have you not seen ‘Spaceballs’?”
Basically, he knows everything about film — except for the name of a single female director aside from Sofia Coppola — and loves to tell you this. You poor uneducated girl sitting next to him in Film and Politics. Or maybe you’ve had the misfortune of running into him at a party and there you are, cornered lest for a can of White Claw you protect against your chest. You’ll find Film Bros everywhere, or a type like them in every major — you can’t escape.
Leaving a conversation with a Bro like this is near impossible. You could point somewhere far off, say “Oh wow, no way! That looks like it could be Scarlett Johansson!” But as much as he loves Scar Jo, she can wait — you simply must hear about the Will Smith movie he saw over the weekend. He will follow you down the hallway, interrupt conversations with your friends, hold you up after class because he really needs to explain to you how “Lost in Translation” isn’t racist, just a tad misguided. To officially end the one-sided “conversation” for good, you have multiple options.
Dear Big Guy, I know we’ve been having a rough patch and half the time I don’t even believe you exist. It’s hard to put faith in a higher power when I can’t ascertain why said higher power would let all this happen down on Earth, the war and poverty and Kardashians and Film Bros — but could you extend your girl one measly little lightning bolt, placed to the left of me? I promise I’ll stop using your name in vain whenever I have a hookup over. If you want, I’ll stop saying “oh God” in general. I bet it’s kind of annoying to be summoned whenever I drop a bowl of Fruity Pebbles or whenever yet another guy in my film classes tries to explain something elementary to me as if I have no clue what I’m doing. It’s humiliating. It hurts. They don’t listen when I try to tell them I’m just like them, I’m not a doll learning about Soviet propaganda film for kicks and giggles. So, please. Little lightning bolt. Right over there, farther left, right over —
Oh God. Sorry. Dang. Thank you.
Following the pro-Palestine protests that took place first at the end of April and then…
In the first post of the semester, Mimesis recalls forgotten projects and their impact on…
In this edition of Don’t Be a Stranger, staff writer Sophia Viggiano discusses her first…
In her inaugural blog post, Contributing Editor Livia LaMarca tells the story of what eventually…
The Career Center hosted its annual Student Employment Fair in the William Pitt Union Assembly…
I’m an advocate for believing that every season of life brings you something to improve…