You're Not My Real Mom

I'm baaaa-aaaack! Hmm, this should be a post about Poltergeist. It isn't. One day, one day.

Many apologies to the 6 of you who check in regularly -- you know how it is: sometimes the time you have for writing has to be spent, well, writing!

Today's post is about Enchanted. A movie that -- come on -- is pretty darn sweet. (Too sweet for some, maybe but I've got a wickedly tolerant sweet tooth.)

The film does a lot of things right. Its just over-the-top old-school Disney opening. Its musical numbers that border on satire ("Happy Working Song" sees rats and roaches helping Giselle tidy up the apartment). And the arcs are, for the most part, solid: Patrick Dempsey's divorce lawyer figures out what pure, un-cynical love is... the little chipmunk-lackey has his change of heart, as he witnesses the power of love...

My one real issue? This movie sends up fairy tales and princes and earnestness and even 'true love's kisses'. But it does nothing with the idea of the stepmother.

The evil stepmother's one of the most iconic villain archetypes ever. And this movie does absolutely nothing to turn that notion on its head. Evil Queen Narissa doesn't want her stepson to marry, so she'll remain queen. She's an evil stepmother who stays evil. Fine.

But there's also Nancy, Patrick Dempsey's fiancee -- and his daughter's soon-to-be-stepmother. The woman's clearly not comfortable with children, but nor is she evil. She's just apparently not the right woman for Prince Patrick. Nancy deserves true love, and in the end, finds it, becoming Edward's queen. Great, all great. But not once in there could we explore the notion that one can become a stepmother without being a child-hating bitch? The movie could spare no time for the plight of the beleaguered stepmother?

What an opportunity that was. Did they feel that other Susan Sarandon movie had said all there was to say?

One Bride's Redemption

Well, I'm newly engaged. Thank you. You're too kind.

To celebrate, let's talk about 27 Dresses, which I finally rented! I think there's a lot to like about this rom-com. I did laugh; thank God. And I liked that the hero had real choices to make (beyond "Hmm, do I pick the schmuck I came in with, or the mensch I just met?").

I also thought it was smart to have the rival/villain (the lying bridezilla sister) be redeemed in the end. Personally, I don't think enough villains get a shot at redemption these days. And I'm wondering if partly that's because it's tough to do.

So I present, for your consideration, 3 Easy Steps to Redeeming Your Rom-Com Rival (a la 27 Dresses):

1. Have the hero humiliate/punish the rival in a way that’s over the top (suddenly we feel badly for the rival, and upset at the hero – the hero doesn’t do this!). This creates sympathy for the rival, while providing a handy "darkest hour" for the hero.

2. Have the rival take responsibility for their actions, and have them acknowledge what it is that has led them to behave this way. Understanding + accountability = potential for change... and we'll hope they do.

3. Have the rival support the hero in the end. That's coming full circle, baby.

Now, go. Use this guide for good.

The Drama Before the Drama

Rewatching Cloverfield, I was struck again by how tight a movie it really is. Come on, people... if you don't think this movie works on a monster/disaster level, I don't know what.

But here's a simple lesson that's a great reminder for our own work: before the "problem of the movie" kicks in, the characters already have problems! In Cloverfield, our gang of partiers is celebrating Rob's big promotion... while Rob is pining for Beth, the girl who's about to be the "one who got away". For the first twenty minutes of the movie, that's what Rob cares about -- Beth is seeing someone else, because he never called her after their perfect day together. It's also what pretty much everyone else at the party is interested in too. 'Cause you know what? Who's-sleeping-with-whom is what life's all about.

Characters are supposed to be people. People always have drama in their lives. The things they care about may seem small when a giant monster attacks New York City... but until then, life isn't just jello shots and singalongs. Minor dramatic conflict goes a long way in helping establish the characters and what drives them, while keeping the tension up until the real stuff gets going. Even Luke Skywalker whined about wanting to go get power converters, if only his aunt and uncle weren't such sticks-in-the-mud.

Of course, in Cloverfield's case, the minor (romantic) drama is pretty much the major throughline of the film. The central question of the story is less "Will they survive?" and more "Will Rob get to Beth in time to tell her how he feels?"

So there it is. Have your characters sweat the small stuff until the big stuff comes along. You can't go wrong.