I admit that I hate “rom-coms.” Romantic comedies are among the most insipid film types created by Hollywood. There’s always a miscommunication; something not said; initial dislike which hides “love.” They’re not funny; they’re not drama; they’re not romantic; and they’re nowhere near reality. I read an article some time ago that said that rom-coms actually hurt relationships because they set up unrealistic expectations of women who watch these things. They expect men to be able to guess what the women think, want, and, as my friends and I used to say back in college, why should a rich, handsome man fall for you (the one woman)? What does the woman bring to the table? And if it’s uneven, why complain if the man “buys” as many women with this foolish notion as he can afford?
Now, it should be mentioned that The Indignant Wife watches these movies, and usually, I run for the hills. I should also be fair that she had me go to a rom-com several years ago at the Toronto International Film Festival that I not only liked, but has become a bit of a guilty pleasure: “Love actually.” I liked it because it’s British (anglophile that I am); because it had a large canvas of characters; and mostly that while most of the people end up happy; not all do, by any means. Some end up alone and sad; some end up in marriages that still face troubles at the end.
I bring up “Love Actually” because there is an advertisement for a film that comes out this weekend that tries to feed into the earlier film – a film called, not coincidentally, “Valentine’s Day.” The ad consists of a heart with the stars of the movie – Jamie Foxx, Julia Roberts, and the other actors, many of whom I don’t recognize. Then, as I always do, I look at “the bottom line,” who directed the film. If it’s a Martin Scorsese, Spike Lee, or a Clint Eastwood, I am intrigued (and in the case of Scorsese, I plan to see it, whatever it is – bring on “Shutter Island”). However, if it’s Michael Bay or so many other hacks, I plan to avoid it like the plague. This time, it is Garry Marshall, and I’d like to maybe apologize to Michael Bay, because Mr. Marshall is the worst director working today.
Marshall, a fellow Northwestern alumnus, started in television, as a writer, and producer of “Happy Days,” “Laverne and Shirley” among so many other bad sitcoms. Marshall brought his “talents” to directing and lucked up with the most ludicrous, unrealistic film in history – “Pretty Woman.” Of course, this propelled Ms. Roberts to superstardom, mostly in other preposterous rom-coms. The basic premise – a rich handsome Richard Gere, pays hooker Roberts to hang out with him and eventually, he falls in love with her. Trust me, most rich men who frequent prostitutes want sex, and that’s all. And, of course, even though Ms. Roberts has never done anything for me – looking at some of those old HBO hooker specials, they certainly don’t look anything like Julia Roberts.
Since then, he has directed films to appeal to small girls, and just plain tripe: “The Princess Diaries” movies, “Exit to Eden,” “Frankie and Johnny,” “The Other Sister,” and “Runaway Bride” which reunited Mr. Gere and Ms. Roberts.
With his films making less and less money, I had hoped that the brother of “Laverne,” actress and director Penny Marshall, at the age of 75 and very wealthy, wouldn’t want to subject the masses to this tripe anymore. With the 80 year-old Eastwood doing his best work at an advanced age, and the 67-year-old Scorsese still vibrant as a director, it shows that you don’t have to make crappy movies as you get older. Of course, these two men have talent, which Mr. Marshall does not have, at least as a director.