After about an hour into The Grand Budapest Hotel, this year’s multi-Oscar nominated film from Wes Andersen, I became very agitated. I wanted to drive the 20 minutes across LA (which would have taken 45 minutes) to the Silverlake/Hollywood/Los Feliz tri-neighborhood capital of Hipsterwood, emerge from my 4wd vehicle with a bullhorn to my lips shouting cries of “Ok, everyone out of the pool. Party is over. You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here!”
Of course, I didn’t actually do that, I just wanted to. What I did instead was turn off the film and retire to my sanctuary – the three foot wide section of the bed I share with my fetching wife. I’ve vowed long ago, that if I wasn’t enjoying a film, book or anything else that I choose to pick up to read or sit down to watch, I’d stop wasting my time and move on. I’m willing to hear why I should have used up another precious hour of my time on Earth.
