A couple of weeks ago my older brother texted me this classic clip from The Simpsons, which he dubbed one of his favorite throwaway gags from the show:

The Simpsons largely accounts for my love of absurdist humor (that’s an Amazon Affiliate link; I receive a portion of any purchases made through that link, at no additional cost to you), but also for my vastly encyclopedic knowledge of twentieth-century pop culture and politics.  It is solely because of that clip that I know of My Dinner with Andre (1981).

Even knowing nothing about the movie when I saw the clip above as a kid, the joke landed because the idea of playing an arcade game about two guys having a conversation was just so absurd, my brothers and laughed our butts off.

But, as The Simpsons often did, it planted the name of that film in my mind.  When my brother sent me that link the other day, it got me thinking that I really needed to see the movie.

I’m so glad I did.

I’d always assumed the flick was some manner of obtuse indie film laden with fancified intellectualism and navel-gazing, the kind of movie that only gets accolades because it’s so aggressively not appealing to the masses.  I was wrong.

Yes, there is a lot of intelligent talk, but even at its headiest and most abstract, the entire film feels like conversations I’ve had with friends and loved ones about life, art, religion, philosophy, the world, etc.  The incredible performances from André Gregory and Wallace Shawn (perhaps best known for his role as the Sicilian thief in 1987’s The Princess Bride) make the conversation feel like we are a part of it, even though there is no hammy fourth-wall-breaking or the like.

The film is also incredibly prescient in diagnosing the sense of ennui that infests so much of modern life.  I particularly loved this bit of dialogue:

My Dinner with Andre is the most middle-aged movie I’ve ever seen—in a good way.  Had I seen this flick when I was in my twenties, I would have perhaps appreciated it; I would have certainly have pretended to do so.  I can’t know for sure.  What I do know is that at forty, so much of the conversation rings True.  It is clear that the character of Andre is having a bit of a midlife crisis (to put it mildly); his friend Wallace is just struggling to get by as a playwright and actor in New York City.  Both men are dealing with life’s struggles and opportunities in their own ways, and both make very compelling and interesting points about modern life.  Their points and insights are the kinds of things you can only appreciate after living life.

I have no illusion that at forty I have “seen it all.”  As I always do, I am certain that when I am fifty, I’ll look back at forty-year-old me and think, “Wow, I knew so little.”  I am certain because forty-year-old me already does that with thirty-year-old me.  If I watch this movie again in a decade—and I probably will—I will likely come away with an even deeper appreciation and understanding that I think I do now (but which I probably don’t!).

The basic “tension”—if there is any—in the film is the friendly comparison-and-contrast between Andre and Wallace’s worldviews.  Andre dropped out of playwrighting for five years, during which time he traveled the world, engaging in experimental theatrical work (like rituals in the woods of Poland) and living at the Scottish eco-community of Findhorn.  Meanwhile, Wallace has been slogging through life in NYC, just trying to make ends meet.  His girlfriend Debbie (based on his real-life partner of the same name) works as a waitress to help pay the bills while Wallace attempts to get acting work to supplement his meager funds.

Andre’s view is essentially more mystical and Romantic—he rejects modern conveniences (he tells Wallace that he would never own an electric blanket, for example) while also globetrotting around the world.  Wallace is more pragmatic, arguing that small comforts (like the electric blanket) make the struggles of life more endurable.  As a very rough approximate, Andre is a nonviolent Theodore Kaczynksi and Wallace is a bourgeois Thomas Mann (without all the gay pederasty).

What’s fascinating is that neither gentleman is wrong. That’s not really the point.  Both of them are like the rest of us, just searching for meaning and significance amid the constant pace of modern life.

The film also taps directly into that experience of having a good meal with a good friend.  Some of my best conversations with my best friends (and with my best friend of all, Dr. Fiancée) have been over long, relaxed dinners, conversations that also continue well into the night.  I’ve certainly shut down some restaurants lost in conversation, just as Andre and Wallace do here.  The film captures that feeling of intimacy and warmth that comes from two friends sharing a good meal and deep conversation.  Even though we are looking from the outside in as these two talk, we a very much a part of the conversation through our own experiences.  I’m not sure how the film pulls that sensation off, but it does, and I have to credit director Louis Malle with accomplishing that feat.

The film is available (very likely illegally) on YouTube.  Someone uploaded it and the whole thing is right there.  There also rental options if you’re of a more ethical persuasion, and the Blu-Ray is just $19.98 on Amazon right now (both Amazon affiliate links; I get a portion of proceeds of any purchases made through those links, at no additional cost to you, etc., etc.).

However you obtain it, watch it.  It’s worth your time.  I never thought a movie of two people talking could be so good, but it’s absolutely compelling.