{"id":92,"date":"2008-10-03T01:27:10","date_gmt":"2008-10-03T05:27:10","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.paulboccaccio.com\/blog\/?p=92"},"modified":"2008-10-03T01:30:17","modified_gmt":"2008-10-03T05:30:17","slug":"don-hertzfeldt","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.paulboccaccio.com\/blog\/2008\/10\/03\/don-hertzfeldt\/","title":{"rendered":"Don Hertzfeldt"},"content":{"rendered":"

I first saw Don Hertzfeldt’s work in high school, when a friend passed me a laptop playing Ah, L’Amour<\/a><\/em>. “This is hilarious,” he said, and the four of us clustered around the tiny screen. He was right. Ah, L’Amour<\/em> is bitter and surreal and appeals to everything a middle class American boy loves—violence and bombastic chauvinism. Girls had hurt some of us; the rest of us embraced cynicism out of loyalty. Most of the time we were kidding.<\/p>\n

We delighted in showing this short film to our long suffering lady friends, all of whom dealt with our immaturity reasonably well. Lily and Jim<\/a><\/em>, one of Hertzfeldt’s later animations, speaks more subtly, in an extended study in awkwardness. Watching Jim fumble his way through a blind date is like picking a scab. Poke the eviscerated dignity.<\/p>\n

I’d feel bad recommending these to anyone who would take them seriously. These short films aren’t an accurate portrayal of life—at least, they don’t tell the whole story. But they are enjoyable for the slice of life they parody. And who doesn’t want to watch boys catch on fire? I know all you ladies do.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"