Meetcute, meet Cute: How the Snob Took a Detour Through Cinema's Weakest Link

RomComs, Chick Flicks, whatever you want to call them, this is not manly territory, and certainly not a territory for any self-respecting cinephile. Not by a long shot. Yet, I confess the romantic comedy is my ultimate guilty pleasure. I confess it so much though that the guilty part is rapidly fading away. I can’t help but love every bit of a damn good RomCom: the contrived meet-cute, the leading actor and actress, the quirky screwball comedy, the romance. Oh and the requisite gallon’s worth of Velveeta cheese that tops it all off. I used to pride myself in a refined taste when it came to cinema. Hitchcock, Godard, Kaufman-These were the filmmakers that were meant talking about, so why the grand detour down Sandra Bullock lane?

I think the simplest explanation for my newfound cinematic preoccupation is intellectual exhaustion. I started falling for RomComs last January, after about a year and a half of intensive cinema and literature studies. In a passage of six months I took survey courses in the history of British and American literature, Literary theory, and the British novel (including the studies of Dickens, George Eliot, Mary Shelly, and others). I had studied the films of Hitchock, Truffaut, Godard, Coppola, Powell & Pressburger, Scorsese, Kubrick, and literally dozens of others. I was steeped in intellectual artistry. My brain was exhausted. My love of film needs constant care and attention, and I think the diversion with RomComs satisfied a few things: 1. Light reading-These films do not require a lot of mental attention, and my brain really wanted to take it easy. 2. New material-These were films that I knew very little about, I learned all about the tropes and traditions of a RomCom, and there are a lot of elements a filmmaker employs to make a RomCom good (really, I could write a book about-Ooh, I should write a book about it.) 3. I’m a hopeless romantic. There is something about these films that satisfies the romantic who is dying to go on a date this Friday (I’m free btw, give me a call). 

So after watching one more French film from 1961, I decided to give Hugh Grant and the like, a chance. May this blog teach you a bit about the great RomComs that are out there. Because know well dear reader, I continued to be a snob in my explorations of RomCom territory. So I started with arguably the greatest one. Annie Hall. Woody Allen’s masterpiece is the magnum opus for the genre. Alvy Singer (played by Allen) is the quintessential romantic comedy archetype-witty, quirky, self-deprecating and incredibly neurotic, the film follows his hyperactive musings on the silly preoccupations people hold in the world of dating, and Annie Hall is able to get so much right-the comedy, the romance, the drama that comes with love-I love the film, and it’s no wonder that the film remains one of Allen’s most cherished films. 

I stayed in the upper middle brow by continuing to Rob Reiner’s When Harry Met Sally. Here’s another film that’s intelligently written without being snobbish or pretentious. Billy Crystal and Meg Ryan work well together, and the film acts as a magnifying glass to the modern relationship. If it was any other actor playing Harry, I think I would have been nonplussed by the film. Could you imagine any other actor dry enough to explain the sexual preoccupations of men? If you don’t believe me, just watch-

After these two iconic films, the floodgates were opened, and the 90’s easily became the ruler of RomComs-Pretty Woman, Sleepless in Seattle, Four Weddings & a Funeral, French Kiss, While You Were Sleeping, As Good as it Gets, Notting Hill. These are some of my favorites, while the aughts have a few exceptional RomComs-Two Weeks Notice, Hitch, Miss Congeniality, the genre, in my opinion has homogenized to blandness (my critics will say blandness has always permeated RomComs, to which I say “….So?”)
I also unfortunately endured some true stinkers (UGH Practical Magic! My Best Friend’s Wedding! Petty, petty, petty-pretty people with problems). It became clear what it took to make a RomCom work. First, the film needs to be somewhat honest. It needs to stay away from pure escapism and actually work through an issue that arises in romantic encounters, whether it be love in the workplace, or falling in love with a close friend, the plot needs to be grounded in reality, even if everything else is contrived. Second, the lead actor and actress have to be ON. The reason why RomComs don’t work these days is partly because our actors are lame. We need another Tom Hanks, we need another Sandra Bullock. The best we can come up with is Gerard Butler and Ginnifer Goodwin. These people are pretty, not funny, sexy, not hilarious. And you know something is wrong when Steve Carrel is the best bet when it comes to seeing a new RomCom. (Or not, Carrel really is highly talented). 

There is one thing that worries me about my RomCom attachment. I may be replacing actual romance in my life with these movies. I haven’t really dated at all in my life, and as I grow up, the yearning in my heart to meet a girl grows and grows. My attachment to film can be at times unhealthy. To start obsessively watching these films makes me feel like I am filling that void with fake, artificial works dealing with love. Art has that problem for people like me who obsess over our medium of choice. We involve so much of ourselves in the medium, that sometimes we confuse art for life and life for art. However, the desire to meet a real girl still exists, and the awareness of film’s deception in my life is enough for me to understand how to keep priorities healthy in my life, and I understand that it’s far better for me to go out and chase a girl then watch Hugh Grant do it for me. 

I’m actually running low on critically acclaimed RomComs. On the shortlist I have You’ve Got Mail and Addicted to Love and that’s really it.  I hold the philosophy that every time I’m watching a new movie I’m looking for a new favorite movie. So there may be a lifelong favorite waiting to be found, but it’ll take work to get there. Soon, a new genre preoccupation will take hold. Kelly, my roommate, wants it to be the Western, and I’m open to the idea, but to replace Tom Hanks with John Wayne? I don’t know, do you think I could do it?