Why You Should Eat on a Date and Anywhere Else You Darn Well Please

Waiter: Good evening! Tonight’s special is pan-seared salmon with parmesan encrusted asparagus. What can I get for you?
Dater 1: That sounds great! I’ll have the special!
Waiter: Perfect. And you?
Dater 2: Oh, I’m not hungry. I think I’ll just have another glass of unsweetened iced tea.
Dater 1: I’m so sorry – Is the restaurant not okay?
Dater 2: No, no, no. I really never eat. Well, you know what: I’ll have a side salad!
Waiter: Alrighty, I’ll go put that in.

I’m sure that many of you, ladies and gentlemen, have been on one end of this awkward situation at one point or another. Maybe it was a one-on-one first date or perhaps it was when you went to meet your S.O.’s family or friends. Chances are, my social anxiety ridden friends, you have experienced this phenomena and I am here to help!

First, I’d like to say that if you are an individual who hates to eat in front of others, especially those you are just getting to know, that’s okay! But not okay enough that you should keep it up. You see, I was once one of you. During my freshman year of college I would constantly schedule lunches with new people, trying to forge new friendships. The company would be great and the conversation would be light and fluid, but something in the pit of my stomach, neighboring my conflagrant hunger, would make me feel like I shouldn’t eat.

What if I breathe too loudly between bites?
What if my chewing is unattractive?
Maybe I’ll get lettuce in my teeth!
Ahhh!

So I would just sit. My friends would enjoy a savory dining hall lunch of cheeseburgers and cokes and I would do my best not to stare lustily at them. No, no, I’m not into you that way! I just want your fries! Eventually, I started dating some of these friends and every date would be the same. I’d sit in my local Red Robin or Olive Garden thinking of my best excuse as to why I’m not going to eat, or at least not much. Maybe I could get the pasta and push it around with my fork to make my plate look emptier? Could I bribe my waiter into sneaking bites of my crispy chicken burger for me? When I met my current S.O. of four years, he took me to a local pizza place to meet some of his family. It was here that my anxiety became physical. The thought of eating in front of these people actually made sick – I was sweating profusely and my stomach churned. It was so bad that I had Joey, the aforementioned S.O., eat my pizza for me while his dad and step-mom were paying the bill. When they got back we laughed and I lied about how I must have been starving. This was my rock bottom. This was my point of no return.

Because Why? Why so much consternation and why so much stress over something as human as eating? That’s when I really thought about it. I feel like we, and I’m going to go out on a limb and say women especially (please prove me wrong), try to put on this facade that portrays us as above basic human needs. We pretend that we don’t need sustenance because masticating is “too gross.” In high school a group of boys would walk around wearing these shirts that said “Girls Don’t Poop,” and I could only think, ipso facto, that I poop! – BUT I wouldn’t tell them that. And what is so funny is that all the time I spent not eating, just to avoid embarrassment, I was doing waaaaaay more ignominious acts. Example: I once peed and farted in front of the very people I wouldn’t eat in front of at lunch. I swear I didn’t drink a drop in college, but I giggled myself into such fits. And yes, it was a debilitating humiliation, but they accepted me because they liked me regardless of the fact that I flatulate, and poop, and pee, and barf, and goodness forbid, EAT FOOD.

So, let’s just knock this non-sense off and embrace our primal desire for food – the messier the better! Below are my five reasons why you should eat whenever the frig you want and in front of whomever you desire and feel damn beautiful doing it!

Respect yourself: Dates, hang outs, or what have you are for multiple people to get to know one another. It is not about you submitting to your companion(s) and becoming this docile, unrealistic human being just so they can have the pleasure of looking at you without a smidge of chocolate ice cream on your face. You are hungry. You’re at a dining establishment of some kind. And you’re with someone who already finds you interesting. Don’t worry about anything except enjoying a yummy meal over some stimulating conversation.

Respect who you are with: In retrospect, I find my evasive and deceitful public eating habits to be extremely rude. The people who invited me to dine with them obviously wanted to share a meal with me and they probably even hoped that my order might be a conversation starter. By leaving them to a plate of pretzel bites while I just stare off into space isn’t particularly nice. It also makes this already fragile experience way more awkward than necessary.

It could be a great experience: Although people tend to play it safe with their chosen places of meeting (i.e. Red Robin, Olive Garden, TGIFridays, etc.), you might end up getting together at a truly remarkable eatery. For example, The Bookstore Speakeasy is this incredulous restaurant that captures the essence of 1920’s culture in truly uncanny way. You would be a straight-up ignoramus to pass up their duck confit flatbread or orange and vanilla creme brulee. Food can make for wonderful memories and if you feign the absence of hunger, you’ll miss out!

It’s a chance to show your culture: A great way to gain an understanding of one’s heritage is through food. A date is a great opportunity to recommend a restaurant that serves your favorite childhood recipes. Even if you don’t identify with a culture through your ethnicity, you still might still find Indian or Thai food to be an important and nostalgic part of your upbringing. So, going off of number three, create a wonderful experience through food while also allowing your horizons to broadened or broadening those of your friend.

Stick it to the man: Guys and gals, be feminists, humanitarians, yourself! We are all lovely humans with needs that demand to be filled. Think about it – have your SIMS ever passed up a good bowl of chile con carne? Don’t think so! Don’t worry about how you might look or sound when slurping or chewing. Don’t fret over table manners or whether you should keep a napkin in your lap or not. Forget all the social constructs of dating and show up with unshaved legs and pajama pants if that’s what floats your boat. The worst you’ll have to lose is that person and if you bare your primal and emotional needs to them and they won’t have it than they’re also the worst thing you could gain. – Kailey

Now, please enjoy this glorious stock image:

The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014)

Let’s get the obvious out of the way. When you’re going to see a Wes Anderson film, you probably have certain expectations. Since the release of Bottle Rocket, Anderson’s first movie, the auteur has given his viewers a unique aesthetic. As his filmography grows larger he consistently delivers this familiar aesthetic while also building upon it, almost poking fun at his own techniques. I’ve noticed the following in nearly all of his films:

1. Futura Font
2. Star-studded cast (Billy Murray, one or both Wilson brothers, Jason Schwartzman, and a wild card like George Clooney or Tilda Swinton)
3. Doll-house views of architecture
4. What I like to call indie eye-candy (old record players, made up book titles, dioramas, weirdly fascinating taxidermy, etc.)
5. Decadent Edibles. Even Sam Shakusky’s half grilled cheese sandwich and bratwurst look good! 
6. Long tracking shots
7. Portrait shots, especially for character introductions 
8. Artifactual/Epistolary Evidence
9. Time period ambiguity 
10. Dry, sharp-witted humor 

Now, not every film contains all ten of these observations. However, I don’t believe that any of his films evade all ten either (but, feel free to fight me on it). The reason I love Wes Anderson’s cinematography so much is because he is so formulaic. By working in the confines of his own idiosyncrasies, Anderson has created his own film universe. There is a paradox where all of his films stand together in this universe, but they also stand completely alone in their content. A college professor at a showing of The Royal Tenenbaums once said that this formula is implemented because Anderson wants his audience to know that what they are watching is a film and, by doing so, the audience is able to pick up on these nuances better than they would in any other movie. 

This assertion as well as this proverbial formula, are all true of The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014). 

HOWEVER, this latest film takes the formula to a whole new level. After discussing it with Joey, we both agreed that it is by far the most outwardly hilarious and plot driven of all Anderson films in existence. This is not a movie you merely chuckle at here and there; many of the scenes will make you pee your pants or gasp with shock. 

The entire movie is a multi-frame narrative. It begins with a punk, European girl in the present day approaching the grave of a cultish author who remains unnamed. This entire scene is so essentially Wes Anderson because it goes beyond calling attention to the fact that one is watching a film, and delves deeper by suggesting that Anderson himself is on par with that cultish author and we are his punky, dedicated followers. As the young girl places a key to The Grand Budapest on the author’s tomb, I couldn’t help to think about the amount of people who would flock to Texas (hopefully many, many years from now) and adorn Anderson’s grave with boar’s heads and Max Fischer berets. The whole time I watched, I maintained the idea that I was that girl and Anderson was that author. For the first time, the audience became a part of the film, but not in an any escapist way; the audience was in the film as the audience. And I feel that this is one of the few times a director ostensibly acknowledges that their audience is a major element of the creation of cinema. 

So, back to frames. As the punk girl opens up her own, hard-cover copy of The Grand Budapest Hotel, the time period jumps to the 1980’s and here we view a comical scene with the aged, unnamed author and his grandson. The author explains that he will tell the story of how he conceived his story which then jumps to the 1960’s when his younger self (Jude Law) visits The Grand Budapest for the first time (he narrates at this point) and then meets the owner of the hotel, Mr. Moustafa (F. Murray Abraham), who then tells us the story of how he became the owner. Woah, that’s a lot of stories within stories. And here’s the story of the story of the film. Very post-modern. 

Before I give a dignified synopsis, I’d just like to quickly continue with the idea of this film being post-modern. I had a professor in college who said that modernism is looking at the picture and post-modernism is looking at the frame. This film takes this definition in a hilariously literal way as Anderson not only implements a frame narrative, but also consistently reminds his audience that we should be looking at the film through the lens of it being a film. He frequently shows scenes through windows, mirrors, and even vignette filters to remind us that we are hearing a story within a story in film form derived from a book. So, the movie itself is the final narrative. 

Now, I know that this sounds like something you’re going to have to ruminate upon (and trust me, I did), but every other aspect of the film is delightfully straightforward. Once Mr. Moustafa begins his story, the time jumps once more to the 1930’s where we meet him as a young, middle-eastern boy named Zero (Tony Revolori). He has just been hired as a bell-hop, working under the legendarily charming and entirely qualified M. Gustave (Ralph Fiennes). Zero quickly learns that M. Gustave has a thing for older women and after he says goodbye to the foreboding, eighty-year-old Madame D., the plot thickens so they say (they actually did say that). 

A clue-like murder mystery complete with avaricious relatives and a hit man ensues. It’s up to Zero to clear his beloved mentor’s name, free him from prison, win the heart of Agatha, the lovely pastry chef at Mendl’s (Saoirse Ronan), and protect the famous painting “Boy with Apple” from greasy, conniving hands. In the meantime, there are laughs galore as Anderson pulls out tricks he never has before. I’m going to stick with my rhyme; I don’t care what you say. Around every corner is an obscene shot of a naked woman (or women), a man questioning M. Gustave’s virility, implied Nazism, blood and gore, a Lemony Snicket-esque secret society, and the most action packed gun shots you may ever see while still maintaining that essential Anderson level of subtlety. 

I’m not being cliche when I say that this movie will make you laugh, cry, oh, and ah. Ultimately, it’s a riot. Intellectually, comedically, and cinematographically. There are so many things that I’m leaving out like the beautiful score (no Rolling Stones songs to be found), the gorgeous architecture, the mouth-watering courtesan au chocolat, and even the much anticipated appearances of Bill Murray, Owen Wilson, and Jason Schwartzman all of whom took the backseat to these new Anderson club members. I really have no criticisms of this film. It was a riot and I’d see it again. 

In accordance with Joey’s rating scale, I’d give it a 5 out of 5. And, as far as date-ability goes, I would say that this is a perfect movie to share with anyone and I’m sure you’ll enjoy much time discussing it afterwards. 

AND, if you and your companion(s) are feeling particularly ambitious. Here is a video on how to actually make your own courtesan au chocolat! YUM! 

Submarine: A Date Night Movie Review

 

            Dramedy is a funny thing. It is also a sad thing. I suppose that’s the nature of the portmanteau beast. It’s different from black comedy or dark humor because it doesn’t find the humor in its more depressing elements; instead elements of the comedic and the dramatic exist side by side. This tends to give dramedies a sense a whiplash as far as tone and mood are concerned. The laughs are less powerful because we just got over feeling terribly sad. The dramatic scenes lose their full impact due to the light nature of the comedy. You know what else is true about dramedies? Indie flicks absolutely love to be them. From the word “go” it would seem that the British coming-of-age comedy-drama Submarine would rarely surface from the depths of its genres, and yet, it does.

            Arguably the most successful director writer auteur of dramedy is Wes Anderson.  If it hasn’t been totally clear yet, we at TDG love us some Wes Anderson (Kailey is going to write a review of The Grand Budapest Hotel). Submarine owes a lot to Wes Anderson for its dramedic tendencies, quirky characterization, and overall aesthetic. It’s not that Richard Ayoade’s Submarine is a rip off. It is merely upfront about its influences. The quirk of its main character, Oliver Tate, is far more overpowering than the quirks of your typical Wes Anderson character. It is not that Tate’s traits make him a better or a worse character, it is just that his overbearing tendencies are an aspect of the film that are more inseparable from the actual plot of the film and have their feet planted squarely in the “drama” of dramedy. In short: there is something really sad about it. He is obsessive, neurotic, and socially awkward. He comes across like a more brooding, less charming Max Fischer. Like Max, Oliver is a likeable character in spite of his flaws.

            The main flaws from the movie come from the beginning. It takes a little bit of time before it really gets rolling and establishes itself within its genre. It feels like too many characters are mean spirited in the beginning, and the package Oliver makes for unpopular student Zooey(and to an extent, Zooey herself) feels like a McGuffin at best and a mean, unfinished plot point at worst. It becomes a different movie once you pass that point, but poor Zooey may stick in your mind. If you are hopeful that she makes some sort of important last ditch action that solidifies the ending, then stop hoping. It doesn’t happen. The ending is, however, delightful in its own uplifting if melancholic way.

             I can’t really finish this review without saying that Alex Turner of Arctic Monkeys fame composed the film’s soundtrack. It is a wonderful and beautiful deviation from more well-known work. It captures the tone and feeling of the movie excellently and really feels as though it is coming from Oliver.

Here’s one of the highlights:

Overall Submarine does well to rise above your standard indie fare. I definitely recommend it. It is currently on Netflix.

My rating scale:

1 – Poor

2 – Okay

3- Good

4- Great

5 – Excellent

Even though numeric ratings truly mean nothing: 3.5 / 5

 Click here for the trailer.

In Defense of the Genre: Romantic Comedy Series ft. Waitress

Waitress (2007): My mother suggested this film to me when I was in high school and I didn’t know how appropriate that was at the time. This film holds a special place in my heart as one of the most empowering, hopeful, and feminist movies I have ever seen. Without taking a political stance or spoiling the movie, I would just like to say that the mother-child relationships found within the story are so refreshing in the midst of some feminist New Wave criticisms that posit an unborn child can be an oppressor or a parasite. As a woman and a feminist, I have always felt that in the general sense female reproduction is empowering rather than emanent. This film celebrates the magic of living and creating life.

Speaking of life, I would like to discuss the life of  the auteur feminin of this film, Adrienne Shelly. She acted in many independent films and television shows in the early nineties before directing and writing her first film, Sudden Manhattan (1997). From that point, Shelly’s all-encompassing cinematic talent became more than evident. She wrote, directed, and co-starred in Waitress in 2007. The film was nominated for several prestigious awards such as the Humanitas Prize and the Independent Spirit Award for Best Screenplay. Beyond all of this success, Shelly was happily married to Andrew Ostroy and together they had a beloved daughter, Sophie. Tragically, in 2006, Shelly was found dead in her New York City apartment turned office. After a series of investigations and lawsuits, it was discovered that her death was the result of direct homicide (all of the information is available on her wikipedia page). Her family and fellow cast/production mates of Waitress were heartbroken by the loss of such an intelligent and radiant artist and person.

I feel that when discussing Waitress, it is extremely important to discuss Adrienne Shelly in order to demonstrate that this film is every bit as humane and optimistic as she was. The story details the life of waitress, Jenna (Kerri Russell), and her uncanny talent to make ridiculously innovative pies at the southern diner in which she is employed. When she and her scuzzball husband, Earl (Jeremy Sisto), are expecting a baby, she finds herself resenting everything about her life. Jenna will do whatever she can to escape her highly oppressive spouse and thankless job and that includes a steamy affair, a pie contest, and a series of strongly worded letters to her unborn baby. However, with the help of her adorable and encouraging co-workers (Adrienne Shelly and Cheryl Hines) and the kinship of an unlikely friend, Jenna finds that she has so much more potential than even she knew.

Watch the trailer here. 

My synopsis of this film is extremely constricted because the entirety of the story is filled with surprises, tears, and moments of awe that I would be remiss to give away. I would just like to emphasize that Jenna stands as a feminist icon. She is not a CEO and she did not pen her own rendition of The Second Sex, but she baked, and loved, and discovered what it means to be a mother. All of these are traits now condemned as stereotypical and retrogressive in women, but why? The film celebrates women for all that they are capable of creating and overcoming, and it calls all women to action by demanding that if they are unhappy, they should do something about it. Shelly is a truly remarkable woman who penned another truly remarkable female character. Each of them are artists, mothers, and human beings and they each stand as incredible humanistic idols for men and women alike. – Kailey

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Adrienne Shelly

1966 – 2006

Meet Kailey

Hello, I’m Kailey T. : ) I’m on the cusp of my twenty-third birthday and I find myself, á la Esther Greenwood, in the crotch of my very own fig tree. I know that I love classic literature (especially of the 20th century), writing poems, watching Wes Anderson movies, and doing amateur DIY projects. I don’t know where I’ll end up teaching English, which grad-school I’m going to attend, or what my “next thing” is. But that’s okay!

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 Fun Facts:

My favorite book of the year is: Main Street by Sinclair Lewis

My favorite television character of all time is: Audrey Horne, Twin Peaks

If I could have any food in the world right now it would be: Pumpkin French Macarons

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 I hope you have the loveliest of days!

In Defense of the Genre: Romantic Comedy Series ft. Punch Drunk Love

1. Punch-Drunk Love (2002): I was introduced to Punch-Drunk Love early in college when a good friend and an admitted P.T. Anderson fanatic lent it to me. I was genuinely interested in the film and the director, but I found myself pre-occupied with a series of priorities I can no longer recall. The DVD sat on my desk for a good two weeks or so and I thought it was about time I returned it. When my friend asked what I thought, I fibbed and told him “it was really, really good!” After actually watching the film just this year, I relived that conversation in my head and instantly regretted how terribly simple I must have sounded when I did the injustice of saying no more than “it was really, really good.” In reality, I find the film to be visually gorgeous, cathartic, and it contains more archetypes than a Hawthorne novel. I wish I could go back in time and say this instead. It would have made for a much less awkward and, I’m sure, transparent conversation.

Because Paul Thomas Anderson is such a film iconoclast, there’s little I can add to what the many blogs and criticisms have already asserted. With that said, I’d like to reference you to this neato site as you watch this movie. Here, you will see the explication of the film’s symbols, influences, and cinematography.

The film is about the emotional, and again existential, awakening of Barry Egan. This may be the only film, perhaps with the exception of Spanglish, where you will find Adam Sandler without his typical slap-stick and profane comedic tricks. Once you get past the initial unsettling feeling of “wait, why is Adam Sandler just staring at that harmonium instead of drunkenly screaming about how he’s going to ‘sets it on fiyah,’” you won’t be disappointed. Barry is equally as emotional as each of Sandler’s typical characters; however, he is also extremely sensitive, alienated, and troubled. As a conventional, yet struggling business owner and the brother of seven berating sisters, Barry struggles to come to terms with his own identity. He meets Lena Leonard (Emily Watson) and the aforementioned harmonium at exactly the same time, right after a terrible, inexplicable car crash. The interaction is menial at first, and according to speculation, even supernatural. However, Barry learns to play and repair the rejected and battered harmonium (cough, couch, symbolism) while also learning to love Lena, who he later learns is a like-minded and playfully sadistic individual like himself. A series of events including a failed attempt at phone-sex, a failed attempt at extortion, an angered supervisor/mattress store owner (the late Phillip Seymour Hoffman), a group of violent henchmen, and a heck-ton of pudding that can be redeemed for frequent flyer miles (snack packs have never been cooler!), Barry is finally able to find love in himself and in Lena.

The cinematography rightfully gets a ton of acclaim as well. Anderson deviates from typical American filming techniques in favor of those reminiscent of the French New Wave. As mentioned, the existential/absurd nature of the story is a major element of the movement. Further than that, the camera’s discordant shots and use of movements beyond the usual 180 degree angles are also in accordance with modern French cinema. The opening scene alone displays many of this elements on top of mise en scene, which is a French term used to describe the arrangement of each of the film’s parts (actors, costumes, props, ligting, etc) as they appear before the camera:

Check it out!

What struck me most about the film was the constant permeating feeling of anxiety created through Anderson’s implementation of jump-shots, bright coloring, Jon Brion’s scoring, and of course, the actual chaos that surrounds Barry.  Although, the film description seems action packed, most of the action is very inward. I empathized with Barry throughout and my heart pounded with both his misery and relief. When the film reached its resolution, I felt as though I had just tackled something huge within myself and it felt great to let out my breath as the credits rolled. I think this anxiety and sensitivity to the characters is so essential to the reason this makes such a great romantic comedy. There’s almost an inability to laugh as the film is playing; instead, I laughed retrospectively at the absurdity of the film as a whole. This forces you to look at the movie, knowing it’s a romantic comedy, and then ask yourself “but, why?”  Stereotypically, films of this genre don’t inspire that much analysis, especially after they have ended. – Kailey

 

 

 

Hellooooo 5 followers!

I got you this baby animal! You’re welcome. 

I just wanted to let you know that Joey and I appreciate your support and we hope that our posts can live up to your expectations. 🙂

We have a lot of cool stuff coming to this blog soon including, but not limited to, a critical review of Submarine, a local restaurant (one day I’ll learn how to spell restaurant without spell check) review, some subsequent “In Defense of the Genre: Romantic Comedy Series” posts, and a joint he said/she said review of Wes Anderson the Great’s newest film, The Grand Budapest Hotel. 

You should totally go see that movie this weekend bee-tee-dubs. I’m not being hyperbolic when I say that it was truly phenomenal. If you live in the Valley (Lehigh, that is) you can catch it at this theatre or this one. Each have great places to sit down and have a coffee when it’s over and trust me, you’ll need it. You’re going to want to unpack the sheer profundity of this bad boy.

In the meantime, our attention is on you, fab five. Comment and tell us some posts you’d like to see and we’ll do our best to make it happen. 

XOXO

Gossip Girl Kailey 

(I know that was cheesy! I just wanted an excuse to use the strike-through.) 

In Defense of the Genre: Romantic Comedy Series ft. Harold and Maude

My long-term relationship with romantic comedies began circa seventh grade. My favorite thing to do on the weekends was to spend a few hours loitering at one of New Jersey’s many shopping malls and then return home with my two besties and binge-watch feel-good movies about the relationships we dreamed of obtaining. (Sometimes we would watch The Craft too. Witchcraft was neat and my gal pals even had this rad book.)

In eighth grade, a year of calamity ensued. I moved away from my aforementioned best friends to a place that Jerzians less than affectionately referred to as “the stix.” I had trouble connecting with people here for a long time, mostly because the school-district I transferred to was extremely close-knit and at the time, I was very obstinate about standing out and honoring my leather mini-skirt wearing roots – not a great combination. In short, I missed my friends and I missed watching 13 going on 30 until the crack of dawn, constantly replaying the thriller dance scene and trying to learn it by reconnaissance alone. At this time, I felt that my only comrades were Hilary Duff films and microwavable popcorn.

In ninth grade, things went from bad to worse when I lost my best friend, Elise, the very best friend who danced the Thriller with me at countless sleepovers. For a long time, I felt sick and broken. The little confidence I gained at my new school was diminished and all I wanted was to retreat back to that cliche slumber party bliss of seventh grade. I couldn’t watch 13 going on 30 for a long time. When I tried, I would either sob or feel like a traitor. How could I go on watching this film when Elise no longer could?

As time went on, my little sister, and my forever friend, Emily, began to enjoy the very movies I grew up on. I was able to watch all the films I watched with Elise with her and renew each experience as I experienced them with Emmy. It was around this time that I was enlightened to the power of romantic comedies. They were a celebration of sisterhood and unity in women, through their content and the experiences they inspired. When my brother, Zach ,also my forever friend, and Joey, my forever partner, also enjoyed these films with me I had another epiphany; these films are not chick-flicks. There is a unity that extends beyond femininity and there are ideas found within them far from hegemony. In other words, there is something innately humane about a tactfully created romantic comedy and this element is what has drawn me to this genre of cinema time and time again.

Generally speaking, a romantic comedy contains two protagonists who are romantically invested in one another. One or both of these protagonists usually embody whimsical traits that lead to varying screwball situations. According to Tamar Jeffers McDonald, author of Romantic Comedy: Boy Meets Girl Meets Genre, the typical story arc of such films is “boy meets, loses, regains, girl” (McDonald 12). As stated by McDonald, this is typical of mainstream films, but to me the best romantic comedies are those that either deviate from or satirize this very story arc. Furthermore, since this genre is actually an amalgamation of two separate genres (aw, cute!) there is an agency assigned to the elements of these films that you won’t find in another genre. The romance aspect of this union promises commentary on perceptions of ideal relationships across time and space. This can offer insight into feminism, sexism, and humanity. The implementation of these elements, positively or negatively, can lead to enlightenment and progression as the viewer is able to witness the strengths and set-backs in the ways men and women are being portrayed. The comedic aspect of the genre, in conjunction with the romance, promises a satire that is refreshingly juvenalian over horatian. You won’t find any overt cynicism in these films and sometimes, this can be healthful for our emotional growth as viewers.

To further defend this genre, I want to make a list of  romantic comedies that I feel exemplify a positive humanistic message, phenomenal or unique cinematography, comic self-awareness, or just an overall feeling of enjoyability.

 

1. Harold and Maude (1971): This is one of my all time favorite films, regardless of genre. In fact, what makes this movie so great is the fact that you almost forget that its a romantic comedy at all. The genre seems like an afterthought to the contrastingly, yet equally bombast, dark shenanigans of Harold (Bud Court) and the optimistic insouciance of Maude (Ruth Gordon). The original poster is totally pun-derful with the tagline “His hangups are Hilarious” over a picture of Harold trying to hang himself with tie (a nod to his rejection of convention). This is the only time I LOL at suicide, and trust me, you would too.

In a nutshell, Harold is a twenty-ish year old man, living with his constantly nagging, yet hilarious, mother. The interactions in which Harold’s mother tries to fix her son up with a worthy spouse through a survey-generated matchmaking service are probably the most entertaining in the film, not to mention a really cool inverse of America’s expectations of men and marriage at the time. This is besides the point. Harold is prepossessed with the idea of death and he often creates these very convincing performance art pieces in which he fakes suicides for his mother’s benefit, like this and this.

Maude is everything Harold is not. They meet at a funeral and Maude attempts to steal his car (perhaps an inverse of the meet-cute). What is so interesting is that Harold attends funerals to celebrate death and Maude attends, equipped with her yellow umbrella, to celebrate life. I feel like this is the easiest way to explain how opposite these two characters are. I should also mention that Maude is a former holocaust survivor on the cusp of her eightieth birthday.

Maude has been considered a Manic Pixie Dream Girl, but I would have to strongly disagree, and not only because this movie was conceived five years before Nathan Rabin. What makes this film so great is that yes, Maude helps Harold embrace his own inevitable existence through art and an incredible, mostly non-diegetic Cat Stevens soundtrack, but Harold helps Maude to find balance as well. There is a scene where the two are partaking in vices, namely a hookah, and Maude explains, with some tears, her own existential philosophy. Based on a prior scene in which viewers catch a glimpse of her concentration camp tattoo, it can be implied that Maude, like Harold, had to come to terms with this undying optimism in the same way as Harold. What’s so incredible about her character is that she could be bitter towards Harold. He views death as a luxury as he lives in a mansion with a mother who unconditionally adores him, while Maude was forced to experience the foremost tragedy when she was around his age. Regardless, she is understanding of his disillusionment with societal conventions and clearly she must continually conquer some of her own as she laments “oh my, how the world still dearly loves a cage.”

They are each developed characters that show that love should be based on finding someone who can help you to see beyond your own biases and consequently open up your mind. And, even though this film contains morbid elements, it’s every bit as heartwarming as it is dark. Cinematographically speaking, the film was directed by Hal Ashby, a proponent of New Hollywood or the American New Wave. This movement was a rejection of the old Hollywood song-and-dance films with the same recurring stars time and time again in favor of an auteur driven project with subtler, yet equally powerful, themes. Harold and Maude shows that you can be idealistic on your own accord. In other words, there is no one way to find love and happiness, much like there is no one way to create meaningful film. In the words of the great Cat Stevens, “there’s a million ways to be,” and this avant-garde love story illustrates that flawlessly. -Kailey

 

Acknowledgments:

1. McDonald, Tamar Jeffers. Romantic Comedy: Boy Meets Girl Meets Genre. London: Wallflower, 2007. Print.

2. For Image:http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Harold_and_Maude_(1971_film)_poster.jpg

Ten Days Out that Won’t Cost you a Penny

Cemetery Gates: Bone yards are not the chilling and slimy caverns that those R.L. Stine novels made them out to be. As you saunter among the tombstones, you will more than likely find that there is no place more peaceful. Here, you and your date can have an intimate conversation while finding yourself inspired by your own mortalities (no one screams YOLO louder than the dead). If you need an ice breaker, try to find your birthdays on the tombstones. Just make sure to be respectful and bring some flowers to scatter if you remember.

Scavenge your Local Bookstore: Initially, I got this idea from this blog, but Joey and I personalized it by making our own challenges. All you need to do is pull out some index cards the night before and jot down some hunting ideas like: “Find a book title that could be a that’s-what-she-said-joke — 3 points” or “Find a book that can act as a mask and get a stranger to take your picture — 4 points.” When you’ve finished the hunt, add up your points (be objective!) and the loser buys coffee, unless you’re really dead-sent on hanging onto those pennies.

Free Museum Days: Usually, museums big and small will pick a day of the week or a few hours of a day to offer completely free admission. It might take some prior research, but I can assure you that you will find one of these phenomenal deals. For example, the Allentown Art Museum is free all day on Sundays. That means you can just walk in and make a whole day of pondering and discussing masterpieces for no money at all.

Sam’s Club Snack Bar: You might think that Sam’s club is only necessary when you need a crap load of toilet paper (gross) or a whole heck ton of cat food. I must inform you that you are sorely mistaken because this suburban cave of bulk contains a treasure trove of h’orderves and they are all free. So, skip the entrees and tips and instead, chow down on mini-quiches and pigs and a blanket galore!

Nature: Duh. If it’s a nice day, go on a hike, have a picnic, swim in a lake, co-write a poem about the grass – this is self-explanatory.

Antique Window Shopping: If things are getting pretty serious, you and your paramour might like to fantasize about what your future abode will look like. Although that $200 rod-iron dress form is less than pragmatic right now, it can’t hurt to browse and even make a mental map of how adorable that totally bohemian loft apartment of your dreams will look one day.

Mall Fashion Shows: Disclaimer: This activity requires some boldness. Instead of spending hundreds of dollars on a polyester bundle from Forever 21, stop by a department store and choose the most outrageous articles of clothing you can find. Perhaps some leather, cheetah print hot pants for her and a Macklemore caliber of faux fur coat for him. Emerge from the dressing room and double over in laughter as you take in the faces of each passersby. This can be a great first date idea for those who are looking for a way to get out of their shells and take the portentousness out of a typically awkward experience.

Dance in Public: This one might be a little cheesy, but I’m running out of ideas! Walk into your local department store, preferably one that plays music a little louder than usual. Wait for a slow song (All or Nothing by O-Town is my personal favorite) and just start waltzing with your partner right there in shampoo aisle. Or, if you’re not the slow dancing type, mosh about to a top-forty favorite. It’s like going to a club, without the threat of the Jean-Ralphio type “dancing up on you.”

Volunteer!: You can do good and have fun! Visit the animal shelter and spend the day helping kitties and puppies. Shelter owners always need someone to clean and feed the many critters, but they are also in need of people to play with these guys as well. I can’t think of a more rewarding and awwwww inspiring date than hanging out with a bunch of fur balls. There’s an amazing shelter called Forgotten Felines and Fidos in Fogelsville (sooo much alliteration!) that houses about a hundred cats and all of them are given beds, plenty of toys, and so much love. All I can say is that I have never left that place feeling sad.

Support your Own: Chances are, one of you has a friend who’s aspiring to be an actor or a cousin whose indie band just released their first EP. In most cases, the artists in your life will try to gain initial recognition by entertaining for free. So start paying attention to your Facebook invitations and ask a date to come support these loved ones with you. It’s a great way to enjoy high-quality, free entertainment while also getting your lady or gentleman more acquainted with the people who are important to you. – Kailey

Manhattan: A Date Movie Review

Part of this blog is reviewing films for the purpose of date night movies for you and your significant other. This review follows one such film.

I once read a review for a Crime In Stereo album (I think it was I Was Trying to Describe You…”) where the reviewer remarked that the album as a whole was not as good as the sum of its parts. This is particularly true of every Woody Allen movie I have seen so far. The movie I will be discussing today is both the latest movie I’ve seen as well as the worst of his work that I’ve come across.

Don’t string me up. Reviewing art is never an objective thing. I’m acknowledging that I am giving a negative review to a movie that is universally loved, especially by the late and great Roger Ebert. The best that I can do is offer a negative review that is well-developed and includes more than “it was boring and didn’t make me lol.”

It was boring and didn’t make me lol (at least not much).

Woody Allen has a unique aesthetic. His personal touch is undeniable; the fact that Allen-esque isn’t its own word much the same as Kafkaesque or Lynchian is surprising (even though I don’t think anything about him should be particularly notable, more on that later). It is a birthmark placed upon all of his work, and one which you recognized very quickly in imitators/flatterers. Of the three Woody Allen movies I’ve seen, Annie Hall captured this quality the best, and stands as the strongest work of his I have seen (and probably will ever see, I doubt I’ll watch any more of his movies). The qualities that are perfected in that film include a deep awareness of the fact that the story exists within a narrative, the idea of portraying human emotions and experiences as they truly happen, and a noticeable  Author Avatar, or for the more pretentious: raisonneur.

Manhattan also possesses these qualities. For the unfamiliar, here is a brief overview. Someone, I guess Woody Allen, named Isaac or something, I don’t know, it’s not important, it’s basically just Woody Allen, is writing a novel about New York, the place and the concept. He is divorced and dating. His ex-wife left him for a woman. They seem nice. He is in his 40s and currently dating a 17 year old (played by Ernest Hemingway’s daughter!). His best friend is a slightly pretentious college professor; aptly named Yale. Yale is married to someone. I’ve seen her, but I don’t remember her name. It isn’t important, she’s barely characterized. She is, however, supportive of her unfaithful husband. You see, Yale is having an affair with the-audience-is-supposed-to-love-her-and-I-guess-she’s-a-halfway-interesting-character-but-she’s-pretentious-as-crap Diane Keaton. Her name is Mary. We are supposed to acknowledge her oh so New York snobbery as annoying, but gradually become intrigued by it.

I wasn’t, but Woody, I mean Isaac, was. He’s a little troubled by the fact that he’s committing statutory rape (but not as troubled as he should be) and Yale recently called it off with Mary. Of course the old lovebirds from Annie Hall wind up together for the majority of the unbearably long movie. He convinces the 17 year old take an opportunity she’s been offered to study acting in England. Of course, it doesn’t work out between the old lovebirds from Annie Hall. When he resolves that his true happiness lies in the “uncorrupted” 17 year old girl who will get like totally corrupted if she goes to Europe, I honestly felt a little sick. Women exist to save neurotic men (no matter how old) from being devoured by their own apathy and nihilism. See: Garden State, a movie I used to love that I’ve gradually grown more cynical toward.

And that’s how the film ends. Isaac resolves that the best thing for him to do is prevent a young girl from following her own dreams and defining herself on her own terms and continue a relationship with a woman 27 years younger than him. It even has an uncomfortable situation of an ending that feels like a worn down echo of Annie Hall.

It is easy to see why Isaac falls in love with Mary. Everything that is simultaneously interesting and annoying about her is an extension of (upper-class-white) New York. She is the museums, the wonder, and the annoying prick from your high school class who went to NYU and suddenly adopted the city as the cornerstone of personal identity. Isaac establishes in the opening monologue how much he loves the city (again, Woody Allen’s New York City is not Scorsese’s Taxi Driver. Hell, Escape From New York is closer to the truth of New York than anything Allen creates). Mary is never able to separate herself from Diane Keaton and Isaac is never able to not be a blatant Woody Allen stand in. It is either an error in character or acting, but it works against the film.

The film had a few good points. Woody Allen often uses lines of dialogue that could really be dropped in any of his films without altering the plot (sort of a high art version of Family Guy), and they are funny in the smirking way (not the laughing way). Some people enjoy that form of humor and that form of humor response, though I imagine the intersection of Seth MacFarlane fans and Wes Anderson fans is extremely small. Meryl Streep was a surprise to see. She is easily the most interesting and entertaining character in the film but gets a depressingly short amount of screen time.

I’m putting a lot of criticism toward the softness of Allen’s New York. At the end of the day the film takes place in its namesake. Manhattan is a beautiful slice of the world, but I can only take the city for a few days at a time. I respect that the movie was trying to capture the spirit of the city, but I just can’t say I like it even a little bit.

My rating scale:

1 – Poor

2 – Okay

3- Good

4- Great

5 – Excellent

Even though numeric ratings truly mean nothing: 1.5 / 5

As a date movie: I can’t recommend this movie as a date movie. If you want quirky, watch a Wes Anderson film. There are a number of adorable french romantic comedies on Netflix. This movie is really not that good.

Talking points: If you wind up ignoring my advice and watching it, you can talk about whether or not interchangeable jokes are a weak form of writing, the subtle horror of the ending, or the separation of art and the artist.

Excuse me while I watch a mindless action movie.

Last minute addition: After writing this initial review I learned about Allen’s hideous questionable history with underage girls. The ability to separate the art from the artist and what weight that holds with analyzing a work is a heavy topic, too heavy for this post. My hatred of any form of abuse will prevent me from ever watching another Woody Allen film. I regret owning Annie Hall and Midnight in Paris.

Regardless of that, this movie was a piece of crap.