In what is now becoming almost a tradition, Laura, Josh, and I sunk several hours last night into a spectacularly unfulfilling movie. Our list now consists of Johnny English (not nearly as funny as hoped), The Aviator (some interesting scenes strung together by hours of essentially pointless filler), and now The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou. All three of us had the feeling we must have been missing something—something deep and vital that would have given meaning to the whole film. We have no clue what that something might be though, and without that something the movie made no sense, and was only barely entertaining for a handful of minutes.
I really liked Lost in Translation, so it's not that I don't have the capacity to enjoy Bill Murray in somewhat strange films. And lots of other people seem to have liked Life Aquatic, so presumably there was something redeeming in it. Yet somehow the film and I never managed to connect.
If you know the secret that makes it worthwhile, do tell.
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