I don't know, man. I think I'm just exhausted by white culture of late.
But this is white culture through mirrors and hear-say. The young woman is a middle-aged man's theory of a young woman. Despite John Cho's amiably tall hair, despite the immortal loveliness of Parker Posey, despite the undeniably peerless design of Girard and Saarinen on display here... the story and characters are shadows in a dorm where the dudes are rhapsodizing about Murakami again. Maybe you'll like it; I'm getting sleepy just thinking about it, my narcoleptic response borne of white angst overload.