January 10, 2012

RomComs: The Slowly Dying Breed

Picture it. It's the end of the film and you see the "heroine" running down a busy street, or swimming across the freezing lake, or racing to an airport, or doing some crazy, unrealistic act of passion to reach the man of her dreams. She finally reaches him, and as they stare deeply into each others eyes, she professes her love to him, admits to making a mistake (a mistake which probably involved some kind of miscommunication or a fight that escalated due to the heroine's fear of falling in love--you choose.) They embrace and cue in inspirational orchestral piece and a fade into black. Did your heart swell a bit? Don't lie, I won't judge.

You see, watching Jennifer Lopez's voluptuous derriere get into sticky situations and Jennifer Aniston squeal and shriek while wearing some small black dress--it doesn't work for me anymore. Not saying that my XX chromosomes won't derive me to see some cute, whimsical chick flick. (Is It's Complicated considered a chick flick?....no?...um) The problem is I'm frustrated by the sugary sap that drips from some of these movies. I don't know about you, but I much rather see a 3 hour action packed thriller with Jason Statham attempting stunts that realistically would never work out than Kate Hudson and Anne Hathaway ghetto stomping each other over a wedding venue.

So along comes What's Your Number? A romantic comedy about a woman who looks up all of her ex-boyfriends in the search to find the man of her dreams. The plot itself really doesn't really matter. What matters to me is the ignorance of the heroine who I'm suppose to root for. The girl is jobless and instead of getting her priorities straight and finding a job so she can be financially secure, she squanders her money on trips to find her ex-boyfriends. Seriously? These specific female targeted films that portray these love sick desperate women tick me off. This mentality of going these extra lengths to find a mate is just inane. Now, I'm not gathering twigs for an impromptu bra burning bonfire. I just find it frustrating watching these "chick flicks" and being expected to cheer for woman who I just want to go away.

Now, having said that I didn't hate the film. I would give it a 3.0 out of 5. The film is riddled with flaws, but Anna Farris is a doll (even though her voice can get to an ear shattering pitch.) Chris Evan's made sure that his contract insured lack of clothes for half of the movie (not that I was complaining) but the chemistry between Farris and Evans did carry the movie depsite its problems.
 I can't say I would suggest it, but I say check it out when it pops up on your HBO on Demand.

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