Saw The Motorcycle Diaries at the Clay last night and liked it quite a bit. The story is tight and well-told. It is pleasantly understated visually, if a little overstated thematically. It definitely paints a romaticized and glossy, perhaps even dishonest, portrait of its subject. Taken on its own merits, though, it's an enjoyable ride.

However, I would recommend waiting for this one on DVD. Although it is worth the $10 ticket, it is defintely not worth what you might experience in the theater.

Picture that kid on Telegraph in Berkeley in the Che Guevara T-shirt. The white kid with dreadlocks who hangs out on the corner rambling about third-world oppression and free hemp. The one who bemoans the evils of the capitalist machine as he gets on the BART back to Walknut Creek. You know that kid.

Now picture two hundred of him. They're sitting all around you in a dark room. They're watching a film that they loved before they set foot in the theater. They laugh at jokes that aren't funny. They gasp audibly at scenes that frankly aren't all that breathtaking. They love this film so much that they have to share their love with each other by commenting on it. Continuously. In the seats right behind you.

And if you ask them to be quiet, well, I guess you just don't get it, man.

Am I just getting old and bitter?