(500) Days of Summer

A quirky look back at what is, perhaps, the truest film about the nature/concept/idea of love you may ever see

This is not a film about romance.
It is a voyage to try and decode the concept of love.
A romantic comedy, this is not.
A few laughs are sprinkled to keep you engaged, though.
Just forget nomenclature, and enjoy the ride.
Peace out.
(And Happy Valentine’s)

Day (-11,628)

You won sperm race. Congratulations!

Day (498)

If there’s no sunlight in Summersville, why not move? A fantasy cannot provide shadow (or warmth) when cold, icy snow dominates the panorama at the other side of the window.

(Punxsutawney Phil can be a bitch sometimes).

Day (3)

A vision. An oasis of hope in your Sisyphus-like existence. !Y el azul celaje de sus ojos! (Now you’re even thinking in another language!). Could she be the one?

Day (73)

Usually a child is endowed with innocence and unbounded idealism. Here, Tom’s kid sister showcases the opposite: experience, reason, common sense, i.e., the qualities Tom has unconsciously blocked to keep alive the fantasy he so passionately wants to indulge. A kid as the voice of reason? Perhaps this is not a typical film.

Day (29)

She has an eclectic musical taste—which matches yours! What if that over-used cultural meme, “Opposites attract,” was wrong? After all, you enjoy being around each other!

Day 314

Yes, the ending of The Graduate is (ostensibly) blissful. Have you asked yourself what happens after they get out of the bus? Moreover, what do you actually know about Summer? Her history? Family? Red flags are your friend.

Day (272)

Penis! PEnis! PENis! PENIs! PENIS!!!!

(...)

(Love?)

Day (17)

Having a steady job? Good.

Assisting your best friend in his drunken escapades? Not as good.

Getting osculated at the copy machine by the girl of your dreams? Priceless!

(For everything else, there’s Hallmark).

Day (432)

Perspective: Noun. An event can be interpreted differently by the same person, given enough time.

(...)

Getting osculated at the copy machine by the girl of your dreams? A nightmare?

Day (47)

Mot: French term for word. (And, also, an anagram of Tom). What are the odds? Having a name that speaks about what you do: using words to build sentences—not edifying buildings out of concrete blocks. What if la femme de tes rêves worked at the same greeting card factory you write your words out? Wait, she does. Clearly meant to be! The footprint of Destiny could not be clearer...

Quoth the Bard: “What’s in a name?...”

Day (387)

Hallmark isn’t evil, nor is it good. It’s a tool. As such, it can be wielded wisely...or poorly. There are 2 kinds of people: those who defer to greeting cards to communicate their feelings, and those who rather speak their own words. Of course, many a times, neither group is sufficiently attuned to their own feelings for their message to be rooted in actual emotions. How close are you connected to your metaphorical heart?

Day (212)

Life is lived linearly. Memories, meanwhile, flash forward and back in a non linear, unpredictable pattern; they are disorderly structured. Chaos theory at work: one day you feel liked (lying in bed, with her...in front of a chinese family), the other ignored (how could she not notice you playing her song!), then you could swear she loves you (she's just having trouble articulating it. No worries). (...)

Love (or the perception of it) is a rollercoaster ride which capriciously trascends the tidiness of time.

Day (167)

If your best memories about domestic life with your (desired) partner spring forth from a visit to an IKEA furniture store, perhaps mystery is not afoot; rather, something might be clearly amiss...

Day (238)

When Cupid beats you at chess, be a knight in shining armor and kneel down your king. If your own dreams have metamorphosed into a nightmare, maybe you ought to wake up, look at the board and reassess your strategy, mate.

Day (432)

She comes back to your life. Maybe the self-destructive, cynical defense mechanisms you, like a great architect, craftfully erected, were faulty. Perhaps she is actually the missing chandelier in the edifice of your romantic life.

Day (366)

Illusion: Tom is as good looking as Han Solo.
Reality: Summer is much better looking than Leia.

Day (366 1/2)

Tom: I love you.
Summer: I know.

Day (477)

Might spending your time with the (alleged) love of your life preclude you from actually meeting and recognizing HER who would be a better (and willing) life companion? While you wish for Pygmalion to come to life, SHE might pass you by...

Bueller? Bueller?

Day (23)

Meet cute at an elevator going up. Good omen!

Day (501)

Meet cute at top floor, where only way is down. Bad omen? Haven’t you watched the film? Now get out, stop looking for signs and let life—and spontaneous serendipity—be.

(And be a man for all seasons).

Day (-10,XYZ)

SHE won sperm race...

End Credits

This film pits the paradigm of illusion vis à vis reality. It uses the concept of love as its muse (although it is, actually, an abstract MacGuffin).

This film is dialectical: the clash between reality and make-believe breed perception. The closer perception gets to reality (and distances itself from the cloak of illusory imagination), the clearer the picture, and the better the foundations for your decisions, romantic or otherwise. (Yes, this film is Platonic, but from a philosophical perspective, not a romantic one).

This movie is Socratic, also. It doesn’t hand out answers, but it poses the right questions. The tools to solve them lie latent within you. If you dig deep, you will see the truth.

(And it shall set you free).

See you next Autumn.