It’s time for senior moviemakers to step up and show the mumbling mumblecore movement how to stop muttering into its angst and actually say something worth hearing.

Okay, I’m being sarcastic about this surging outbreak of ultra-low-budget movies featuring twentysomethings talking, talking, talking about relationships and sex and then about sex and relationships, while, like, you know, not quite finishing their sentences. Like.

We seniors, as others have suggested, could call our movie movement grumblecore , because many of us have plenty to complain about: multi-decade marriages gone south; jobs moved overseas; new careers we can’t compete for, much less comprehend; retirement savings that won’t last one “golden year”; no long-term care insurance; family members scattered across the nation and universe.

We also could call our movement stumblecore. We have, after all, managed to stumble a long way through life, both figuratively and literally. Perhaps we are now having real balance problems when we walk or when we try to put two thoughts together as we we talk.

We even could call our movement crumblecore. Hey, you think you’ve got angst, mumbledude? Try riffing about sex and relationships when you don’t have your false teeth firmly pasted into your mouth, when every joint in your body aches, and when your impotence medicine suddenly is making everything and everybody look blue.

Likewise, try getting on with your life’s next great chapter knowing that it’s, you know, like, death, and it really is, like, just ahead. Like.

Mumble, mumble, mumble; mutter, mutter, mutter; grumble, stumble, crumble....

Cut! That’s definitely a wrap!