The Heart Wants What It Can Get

While He's Just Not That Into You may be an ensemble, the story with the most screen time -- and the one that triggers a number of other plots -- is the romance between Ginnifer Goodwin and Justin Long. Ginnifer's the over-analyser; the girl who waits for the guy who's not going to call to call. Justin's the cynic -- the brutal truthteller who delivers dating lessons to our naif, including the titular one.

Ginnifer toughens up, develops a thick skin, learns to spot a blowoff... and then mistakes many of Justin's actions for romantic attention. He lashes out at her -- hasn't she learned anything? Stop looking for signs! Ginnifer's defense: she'd rather be overly analytical as she searches for true love, than cold-hearted like he is. Cue the reversal... he's about to realize he does, in fact, love her. This time, she's going to get her man!

But here's the thing.

Not once. Not ONCE. Does Ginnifer ever ask herself (nor does anyone ask her) if she's into him. The assumption the storyline makes is that Ginnifer is into whatever guy is into her. Her dream seems to be that someone -- anyone -- will want her.

So the person we've been led to believe is our hero -- the one that needs to grow and change -- isn't Ginnifer. It's Justin. It's the dude. Oh thank God, a DUDE is here to provide character depth! 'Cause Ginnifer in all her damaged mania is adorable just as she is. Let's reward her for all those charming neuroses!

I understand that, thematically, and for the sake of romance, it must be very tempting to turn the lesson of the title on its head, and make the big reversal about that. I just don't think Ginnifer's character needed to be sacrificed to make that happen. How about, she starts to fall for him because he's so unlike the other guys... and then starts seeing signs where there are none?

Then the big moment, when he discovers she has feelings for him, might actually have been heartbreakingly romantic rather than painfully awkward.

Absolutely, For Sure

It's been months since I saw Definitely, Maybe. I knew I'd blog about it eventually, but it's taken me all this time to really articulate why I think it's a strong, fresh romantic comedy.

I thought -- is it because I like all 4 of the leads? Ryan Reynolds has grown on me a lot, but the real gems of the film are the women: Elizabeth Banks, Rachel Weisz, and Isla Fisher? Great choices.

Then I thought, hmm, maybe it's all the wonderful grounding details in the story. Example: we spend part of the time in the '90s, while Ryan works on Clinton's presidential campaign. Hadn't seen that before, and yet it felt like a character detail rather than a hey-we're-travelling-in-time gimmick.

But no. I've realized what it is.

This is a romantic comedy structured around a mystery.

The premise: A single dad tells his young daughter about the 3 great loves of his life, and lets his daughter guess which one turned out to be her mother.

While I'm following these love stories -- all with their own nuances and complications -- I'm also, like the daughter, trying to put together the pieces of this puzzle. And I confess, I wasn't totally sure right up until the big reveal.

And the story doesn't even end with that reveal... that'd be too easy.

The fact is, this is where most romantic comedies fail. When non-rom-com-lovers refer to the genre, it's as "formulaic" and "predictable". This is because the central plot question is so often "Will this couple get/stay together?". It's almost always a gimme... of course they will!

Definitely, Maybe opts instead for a central question with real suspense. Which woman is mom?

How can any of us go back to the conventional faux-structure, now that we've seen this?

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 Littlest Reversal

If you've never seen Richard Curtis's The Tall Guy, you must. It's funny, charming, it stars Jeff Goldblum and Emma Thompson, and it features one of the best rom-com sex scenes ever.

And it also has one of the most credible reversals I've seen. I'm going to talk about it now, so if you haven't seen the movie, really-- go on. This post will still be here when you get back.

Okay, good. So here's what I mean: towards the end of the second act, Jeff is cheating on his lovely girlfriend Emma with his on-stage co-star. At the Opening Night party for the show, Emma discovers their affair. And do you know how she finds out? The co-star hands Jeff a glass of champagne without saying anything. And Emma knows that only people who are intimate would communicate like that without a word.

It is so small. It is tiny, it is wee. And it's also perfectly real. No need to find a damning note or a condom... it's all in the human behaviour.

I love this small reversal, that causes a breakup and dire moments for our hero. I think these are the great moments in film; the ones to aspire to.

*For another example of a small reversal, check out Thomas Pope's essay about Fargo in Good Scripts, Bad Scripts... it makes clear why Marge's reunion with Mike Yanagita is absolutely essential to the telling of the story.

The Way You Make Me Feel

Every once in a while, I'll see a movie that makes me reexamine how I see movies. I think these are invaluable, because it's so easy to feel you've seen it all and can't be surprised.

The most recent movie that forced me to get over my assumptions and actually pay attention, is the Irish film Once. The music in the film is phenomenal, but what I'm most interested in is how the movie both is, and isn't, a romantic comedy... and how it refuses to play by the rules of rom-com convention. Here are a couple of examples:

• In the film, the guy's still pining over a girl who left him. In a conventional rom-com, the guy's supposed to get over that absent girl, and start anew with the gal who enters his life in the first act of the movie. Instead, Once lets him pine for the absent girl -- going so far as to have him writing a song while watching old home videos of her -- and then allows for the idea that perhaps he and absent girl still have a chance!
  
  
• Similarly, the gal in this film has an absent husband in another country. She, her mom, and her little girl moved to Ireland for a fresh start. Our first instinct, as viewers of many rom-coms, is that the dad is a deadbeat, or was at least a romantic mistake, and the gal is supposed to start anew with our heartbroken guy. Instead, the gal, after the experience of making music and becoming close to our musician guy, decides maybe the right thing to do is invite her kid's dad here to live with them, and give being a family another chance.

Now, in neither this example or the one above were we given strong evidence that our heroes should move on, and leave these past loves behind... it is simply our assumption that that is the case, because of how these movies "usually work".

And, of course, there's the ending. Which is perfect, surprising, and sublime, and because I've already spoiled too much, I won't spoil that. But suffice it to say, sometimes it is most satisfying to not get what you, as a viewer, think you want.

The Pretenders

I've been researching teen romantic comedies, because I'm fleshing out an outline for one of my own. In my travels (and, okay, over a number of months) I've watched and made notes on She's the Man, What a Girl Wants, Mean Girls, John Tucker Must Die, 13 Going on 30, and Freaky Friday. In case you're not on a similar mission (but have a passing interest?), here are a few things I've learned about the teen rom-com:

• Setpieces are absolutely crucial in this genre. Whether it's a school dance, huge "popular crowd" party, the "big game", a concert, a debutante ball, a school play... these movies are structured around their "everybody's gonna be there" events.
• The "right guy" is very often into music. Either he's a music geek (John Tucker) or a musician himself (What a Girl Wants).
• The right guy is also an outsider - he's not part of the "cool" crowd, though is, of course, in his non-conformist way, incredibly cool.
• This works out well, given that the heroine of these movies is almost always an outsider herself; she's not cool by conventional standards, and doesn't quite fit in, which is exactly what makes her cool - to us, and to the right guy.
• Our heroine's friends tend to represent varying degrees of trying too hard to fit in (the key theme of all of these films).
  
• The villain in these movies might be a rival girl (13 Going on 30, What a Girl Wants) or a jerkhead guy (John Tucker), but this physical presence is rarely the main source of antagonism in these movies, which is...

• Our heroine herself. It blows my mind, but each and every one of these movies is about the exact same thing - a girl who tries to be something she's not. This is the archetypal story for the teen rom-com. A girl who's pretty great to begin with pretends to be something else, falls into the trap of wanting it all, has a dark moment in which she discovers her real self has been lost, and, in the climax, publicly reveals her true self (thereby earning the respect of worthy friends and crushes).
  

What I want to know is, why does this story speak so powerfully to teenage girls, presumably the target audience for these movies? Or does it, even? Is it possible this story is what we as adults wish for, for teenage girls? We hope that girls will reject what (wait for it) "society" tells them they should be, and instead be the brave "outsider" (who, by the way, always ends up with more friends than she started with; even popular ones)? Finally, I would really like to know if the average teen girl relates to this archetypal one - do all teen girls see themselves as outsiders? Never popular enough, but are trying to embrace what they do have?

Anybody got a teenage daughter we could ask?