New Emilio Estevez passion project/biopic Bobby was screened Friday night at the Goethe Institute. Rabid hors d'oeuvre hound Intern Nick was there to see if godless Hollywood elites could make a film that would win approval from godless Washington elites. Follow the well-worn path of '60s coulda-shoulda-woulda-changed-the-world nostalgia, after the jump.


The chronology of a well executed movie party has always been booze first, watch, and booze after. In true Kennedy fashion the evening followed this structure perfectly. That only wine and Grey Goose martinis were available led us to feign annoyance before accepting a drink that sounded like it was called a "pomatini." Food was stylishly presented but mostly awful, with the micro-cheeseburger on bagel chip a notable exception. The appropriately groomed crowd was absent bold-faced names, unless Patrick Gavin or Garrett Graff count, but if they do, then we do, so no.


Then it was down to the small but commercial-quality screening room to see what kind of fetishized romantic period-biopic you can put together with multiple generations of showbiz goodwill and the cache that comes from being associated with such radiant classics as The Mighty Ducks 3. ["No reviews allowed," Nick! --ed]


When it was over, the party continued with coffee, desserts, and more pink hued "tini" drinks. The thinned out crowd was cautious in their discussion, with basically everyone refusing an, "I liked it," or "Kinda sucked," type answer. It wasn't until we'd already put our coat on to leave that we blurted out some lament about the lack of Bobby Kennedyesqeness in contemporary politicians, and were met with, "Well, there is Barack Obama." So there you have it: Barack Obama is the next Robert Kennedy, and we would never've known if it wasn't for Firecrotch Lohan, "Dude, where's my career?" Kutcher, and Frodo. Thanks Barlets!

bobbyhooters.jpgReal, currently-living Kennedys could be found at the "reception" across the street.


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