I’m a grump, a grouch, the kind of lady who says, “Ugh” at romantic comedies with a thumbs down and over-exaggerated eye-rolling. I should have hated this film because it’s just Jennifer Aniston playing Rachel from Friends again for the umpteenth time and Jason Bateman is playing a variation of Michael Bluth from the brilliant Arrested Development. Well, friends, I’m going to confess something to you. I know I’m a noted cynic and hater of all things corny and cheeseball and over-processed, gimmicky bullshit, but I gotta tell you: I love Rachel and Michael Bluth, all right? [side note: I’m starting to think that maybe it’s time I stop kidding myself and stop telling people, “My favorite film? Why, Wong Kar Wai’s seminal film, In the Mood for Love, of course,” and instead say that it’s Mannequin 2: On the Move starring Kristy Swanson and William Ragsdale– gotta love the main theme song, “Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now” by Starship] I avoided seeing this at the theater because I didn’t want to be seen as one of those women gushing, “Ohhhh, I love The Notebook. Ryan Gosling + Rachel MacAdams should be together forever!” and “OH MY GOD, how accurate was He’s Just Not That Into You? It’s like they read my web diary!” and “SHUT UP, Sex in the City 2 is the best movie of ALL TIME. OF ALL TIME!!!” or “I WILL JUST DIE IF I DON’T SEE THAT NEW KATE HUDSON MOVIE ON OPENING NIGHT!! My girlfriends and I are going to head on over right after Happy Hour at Cosmo’s where I will drink many pink girly drinks with umbrellas in it.” Or “Ohmygaw, I’m so going to crash Target’s website and servers because I just absolutely have to have those ugly rain boots with the print on it by some Italian guy I’ve never heard of.” That’s just not me. Admittedly, I scoff at those women. And why, for God’s sake? I like cats, I write romance novels, I LOVE romance novels, and I like shoes very, very much. Why should I make fun of these ladies when I once watched that movie with Katherine Heigl and Josh Duhamel and found myself rooting for those 2 crazy kids to make it work? On top of that, I am unabashedly excited for that Stephanie Plum movie starring Katherine Heigl when I just know that the critics will hate it. What do I gain for pretending I hate these movies and proclaiming loudly how awful and sexist they are? Why should I deprive myself of happiness from watching goofy, critically lambasted films just because people might think I’m uncool? Hipster cred makes NO ONE happy and satisfied. From now on, I will proudly declare that I LOVE so-called “awful” movies. So there.
January 2012 archive
I don’t know if it’s because I now fall under the descriptor “thirtysomething,” but lately I’ve been feeling maudlin and sentimental. Or maybe it’s the post-holidays blues or the I-don’t-have-money-or-a-job-and-my-car-is-dying-and-I’m-fifteen-pounds-overweight-and-I-live-with-my-parents-and-I-should-be-on-the-show-Hoarders blues. While I was unable to sleep some nights ago, I caught “While You Were Sleeping” on TBS or WGN or one of those channels and I felt compelled to watch it from beginning to end. By the time I got to the scene where Sandra Bullock was telling Bill Pullman’s family that all she really wanted was a family of her own and she was grateful to them because they treated her as family, I was a hysterical sobbing mess. And seriously, if I were making my living as a subway ticket booth operator and I am living in a crappy apartment where I am constantly stalked by my perverted landlord and my love interest is Bill Pullman, I would have pushed Peter Gallagher out of the way and got run over by the train myself. But what does that have to do with “Sleepless in Seattle,” you ask, other than they both have sleep in the title? Well, I was suffering from one of those sleepless nights again and trying to get myself sleepy by staring at the ceiling and humming “In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning,” which is one of my favorite songs of all time. Somewhere in the middle of it, I got choked up and my eyes started to burn with tears and before I knew it, I was sobbing again. To distract myself from my own maudlin gloominess, I turned on the TV and guess what was on? Yep, “Sleepless in Seattle,” whose soundtrack “In the Wee Small Hours” happens to be a part of (other great songs in this soundtrack: “A Wink and a Smile” by Harry Connick Jr and “Stardust” by Nat King Cole, which never fails to make me cry a little bit).