Members of the anti-Coen club (unresponsive to the Muncie song, indifferent to bowling) tend to cite the superficial glaze of their art; the tart, unlikable characters; and the smug self-satisfaction at their own cleverness.There will be no swaying even the floaters this time round.If anything, Burn After Reading plays right into the calloused hands of the naysayers.It lacks the immediate charm of classical Coen: there’s no Marge or Dude - good-natured if unconventional counterpoints to the monopoly of jerks, saddos and crazies.pottery and sigillata orientale potsherds) dating back to the first century AD. The study used the latest computing technology to test its findings. Tired of lame-ass descriptions of what people like and don’t like.
We have encountered people who lied about their height and interests. Of men whose interest waned because of a date’s few extra pounds, and women turned off by a date’s legacy of student loans.
We have chatted with people online who seem witty with the 10-20 second IM delay, and moved the relationship to the phone, only to find that their conversational skills are clearly lacking. We all have our areas of superficiality, but in order to overcome them, we must acknowledge them–with humor and in the embrace of a community of others.
We have wondered how to handle the delicate situations we encounter, and have sought advice from friends. And then there’s the technical joy of dealing with internet dating…We’ve been frustrated by the random disconnections by the JDate server, by new payment policies, by Big Brother JDate censors removing segments of our profiles. Though it sometimes seems impossible, there are those who have found love online–their stories are an inspiration, and will also be welcome here as a buoy of hope in the dating ocean. When the muse inspires, there will be features, rants and raves on related subjects.
Compared to the moody poetry of that classy neo-Western, Burn After Reading has the wild abandon of a punk-rock song - it’s all jibs and jabs, the rope-a-dope moves of a boxer.
A slighter, less obviously showy piece that will grow and grow with repeated viewing. Ozzie Cox (John Malkovich), a low-level data analyst at the CIA’s voluminous headquarters at Langley, has quit in a fit of pique. Truth be told, he doesn’t take too kindly to anything.