Tag Archives: romantic movies

Me Before You(thanasia)

We saw this movie against our wills. It was part of a double bill we had no interest in seeing but it was at the drive-in on the warmest, most starry, most perfect drive-in night of the year, and it couldn’t be helped.

The premise: a young woman named Lou (Emilia Clarke) goes to work at a castle, caring for a recently quadriplegic man, Will (Sam Claflin). Cut down in the prime of his life and 635906306787211507-XXX-ME-BEFORE-YOU unable to accept his new limitations and circumstances, Will is surly and depressed. It makes for an unpleasant work environment for Lou but her financial desperation keep her hanging on, just barely, and that’s BEFORE she finds out he’s wickedly suicidal. Will’s in favour of going to Switzerland for end of life treatment now that life’s rather small and joyless, but he’s promised his parents six months, so he’s gritting his teeth as he suffers through them. Lou’s going to save him of course, with her quirk and her chattiness and her colourful penchant for terrible shoes, even if she has to make him fall in love with her to do it.

First of all, this felt very much like a poor man’s rip off of The Intouchables, in which another unlikely friendship blossoms between quadriplegic and caregiver, also marked by a disparity between social class. But I’d heard that Bryan Cranston and Kevin Hart were set for that particular (unnecessary) remake (read: lazy Americans hate subtitles!). I guess this one justifies itself by having a predictable and pedestrian romantic twist that even the dude’s mother (Janet McTeer!) sees coming from a mile away, even without help from her turret. Because again: they live in a freaking castle. It’s a good thing that disabled people Emilia-Clarke-and-Sam-Claflin-in-Me-Before-You are always so ridiculously wealthy. Life might actually look a little bleak without the tricked out vans, front row orchestra seats, fully accommodated living spaces, round the clock care, and even accessible tropical travel destinations. It kind of makes you wonder whether these poverty-stricken caregivers are falling in love with their patient, or with their patient’s lifestyle. And in this movie at least, Will truly does not have anything to give but his money. He’s just an angry guy in a chair.

And his tissue-thin character isn’t even the worst. Lou is played over-exuberantly by Emilia Clarke in such a way that I just wanted to hold her down, knee on neck, and wax those damn eyebrows off. I usually love a big juicy eyebrow but watching hers jump all over her face like not one but two hungry caterpillars were performing a pixi-stix-fuelled ballet made me want to lob a bug bomb at the screen and call it a night. Her tone was completely wrong for the film and as much as Will was a grump unworthy of love, I think she’d be even less of an attractive mate, particularly to someone who can’t get away. Luckily, if you begin to feel queasy about the whole Cinderella\sugar daddy in a wheel chair “plot”, you can distract yourself with the many swelling ballads obnoxiously shoved into the movie willy-nilly. Worst movie music ever? You decide, but I will say this: this is a two-Ed-Sheeran-songs kind of movie. That’s probably enough said.

So now we can get to the meat: the disabled community HATES this movie. Will wants to die because life as he knew it is over, and they feel like that’s a pretty horrible attitude to me_before_you_lowres project onto the world, and they’re not wrong. Is this a disability snuff film? Disabled lives are worth living, and many are living well. However, living with a disability and living with pain are not the same. I live with both, and am extremely glad that I live in a place where I have the “right” to die. It’s not in my immediate plans, but some days just knowing I have that option is all that gets me out of bed. When the pain is bad, I know that I can end my suffering when I choose, and that gives me strength. If you think love conquers all, then you’ve never walked a mile in my shoes. Pain conquers all. Pain is bigger than the whole world.

Disabled people are people: they should be respected and portrayed fairly in TV and film as part of our diverse world. And it’s a really sad commentary when the only time they’re included in the conversation is when they’re being presented like this, the object of an impossible romance and too big a burden to live. But the right to die is about dignity. Whether Will (or anyone) decides euthanasia is the right thing for them or not, it’s a deeply personal decision, and maybe it’s time the rest of us stop judging.

Love, Rosie

26 Replies

Hell’s bells this movie is obnoxious. It’s the worst kind of “chick flick” that makes my womb want to shrivel up and die of embarrassment. It’s an unforgivable piece of romantic trash that simply worships the boy meets girl, boy and girl fail to see they’re perfect for each other, boy and girl keep missing each other, but inevitably finally do get together and live happily ever after trope. Haven’t we done this one to death?

The boy (Sam Claflin) and the girl (Lily Collins) are best friends, so of course they can’t bone, they just don’t think of each other that way. Until they do. But only one at a time. Inconvenient! (To true love. Very convenient as a lazy plot device.)

The verdict: not a movie for anyone who wants to wake up with self-respect in the morning. However, if you’re single again and it’s still a little raw, and you find yourself buying oversized bottles of wine, and you’re in your jammies by 7pm – the kind where you’ve got your pants tucked into your sweat socks, and even your cat thinks you’re lousy company, and all date night means to you these days is a tub of Ben & Jerry’s and a certain genre of movie you refer to as “the weepies”, then what have you got to lose?

The Age of Adaline

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We missed this screening while in Paris, and I was okay with missing it, although our proxy did give it a one-word rave review: “fine”.

On our return flight from California, it was the only New Release I hadn’t already seen, so I gave it a go, and came up with much the same conclusion: it’s fine.

Adaline gets into an accident that causes her to stay 29 forever. And then she has the gall to complain about it. So that’s annoying. And she may have the glowing complexion of a 29-year-old, but she tells a story like a 129 year old: it’s long, rambling, often pointless.

Adaline, that is to say Blake Lively, looks gorgeous in every era. But her “problem” has made her selfish and I had a hard time finding anything likeable about her, other than having Ellen Burstyn as a daughter, and wondered why yet another of her “problems” was having all these handsome men fall in love with her. Wow. Poor Adaline. Tough life.

Anyway, you know exactly where this movie is going, and it goes exactly there, eventually, after a lot of plodding along.

I did love that it was set in San Francisco, since I had just been holidaying there myself, and recognized her digs in Chinatown. Actually, San Francisco is maybe the most interesting character – it’s often shot beautifully, almost noir-ish, which almost makes me sad. It looks and sounds like a movie that was supposed to be so much better than it was. Unfortunately it’s just another bland romance with a light and improbable sci-fi twist – basically, a very pretty fashion show. And the thing is, I don’t buy Blake as anything more than a mannequinn. She’s a clothes horse, but her eyes are blank. Her face is incapable of communicating anything to the audience, and she pales next to Harrison Ford, who gives off some mega wattage in a hammy performance I didn’t expect from him.

Verdict: missed opportunity.

Love Is Strange

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Ben & George have been together forever but are newly married. Their wedding is small and joyous, and also the catalyst for George’s dismissal from the catholic school where he teaches music. They can’t afford their home on Ben’s pension alone, and the two suddenly find themselves homeless. Friends and family scramble to take them in but this being New York City, where no apartment is bigger than a breadbox, Ben and George are separated. This is a love story that shows us how patient and enduring love must be. With no prospects in sight, people who were happy to toast them at their wedding are less happy to share their homes. There’s chafing on both ends (Ben clashes with his nephew’s wife, played by Marisa Tomei, when they’re both trying to work from a cramped home every day). They feel displaced and disoriented; their hosts feel increasingly put-upon. It’s sad and sweet and melodic – the soundtrack is divinely full of Chopin.

Director Ira Sachs is slow and meandering. It’s painful to watch the tenderness and the intimacy decline into homelessness and despondency. Just when they’ve vowed to share their lives with each other, they can no long afford to share so much as a bed. This is a pretty bittersweet movie, more universal than you may think. The husbands grapple with their emotional health, and aging, and navigating the strange and complicated NY housing market, which is what finally made me realize how mis-titled this movie is. Their love is a lot of things, but it is never strange.

The Holiday

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A quasi-Christmas movie for when you’re feeling in a quasi-holiday mood. It takes place around the holidays but it doesn’t shove them down your throat. It is unabashedly a romcom though. Like, hardcore romcom. If you love Love Actually, this might just be the perfect follow up. Just don’t make your boyfriend watch them back-to-back, or I won’t be responsible for him menstruating all over your micro suede couch.

Kate Winslet plays this woman who’s in love with a jackass who doesn’t love her back, and wouldn’t deserve her even if he did. It’s next to impossible to believe this heavenly creature could ever be in an unrequited situation but she’s lovely and she elevates this stinkin romcom to a very nearly decent little movie. She’s at her office Christmas party when her ex-lover announced his engagement to the woman he cheated on her with (holy god, call the grammar police!) and poor Katie does a not too great job of hiding her tears because her coworker says “I never realized how pathetic you are” to which Kate replies “Really? I’m so aware of it.” And how can you not love a movie like this?

In an effort to avoid another new year’s eve of tears and vallium, she lists her home on a house swap site and connects with Cameron Diaz, a woman in Los Angeles who’s just had a bad breakup with her boyfriend and also needs to get away from life and from men.

But of course they don’t just live in each other’s houses, they inhabit each other’s lives. Kate’s little cottage is cozy and filled with books. Absolute heaven. Cameron’s house is bursting with movies, including, weirdly, Gigli. Sort of reduces her credibility, no? And soon they start me including their men (though thankfully not their exes). Both rom and com ensue.

And keep watching because the best part is right around the corner – an old guy, a writer from show business’ golden age, who just slays with his great advice (“You are a leading lady but for some reason you’re acting like the best friend.”) and his undying loyalty. I was completely charmed by Jack Black (!) and won over by Jude Law (!!). It’s totally predictable and meandering but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to cuddle this movie all night long. Merry Christmas to me.

Love Actually

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I’ve actually started packing away my copy of Love Actually with my Christmas decorations every year, which limits my viewing of it to just once, annually. This is a necessary precaution because it’s way too easy for me to get swept away in this movie.

It feels like the ultimate romantic movie, possibly because in this movie Hugh Grant AND Colin Firth both get the girl. But for every frenzied makeout session, there’s also a cold, awkward peck on the cheek. Your heart breaks as much as it soars. There’s grand gestures, and well thought-out lingerie, slow dancing cheek to cheek, and enough first kisses to charm even the more cynical hearts.

But for me, this movie excels not in its romantic tropes, but in the darker corners. You don’t need this movie to tell you that Emma Thompson is superb, but it does confirm it. The scene when she’s in the bedroom, having just unwrapped Joni Mitchell instead of jewelry, is moving and real. Only a few moments (and even fewer tears) are devoted to her broken heart and we watch her pull herself back together to give her children a smiling, overbright Christmas. Only an extended hug for brother David belies just how much she’s hurting. This movie happens to take place in the weeks leading up to Christmas, and while the magic of the season seems to heighten the romantic aspects, and give courage to those who need it, it also highlights the loneliness, the forced joviality, the false cheer.

There’s probably some sort of personality test about which couple your root for in this movie, but I must confess, I also adore the non-romantic-couple bits: the sweet and silly bromance between Billy Mack (Bill Nighy) and his fat manager, the sacrifice of Sarah (Laura Linney) for her institutionalized brother, the shared grief and renewed bond between Daniel (Liam Neeson) and his young stepson.

I’ve been watching this movie for a decade and I still squeal at all my favourite parts: the papier-mache lobster head, the Rowan Atkinson gift wrapping, the Beatles sendoff, Hugh Grant dancing unselfconsciously, the falling in love by subtitles between Jamie and Aurelia, Martin Freeman warming up his hands for “the nipples,” Rick Grimes taking a break from zombies. This movie has it all, and I’ve certainly heard it criticized for being over-stuffed, but personally I wouldn’t know which subplot to cut. Sure it’s self-indulgent, but watching this movie every year is a gift I give myself.

The assholes will be reviewing their favourite holiday movies all December long, so stay tuned!

You Can’t Fight Christmas

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Here’s a surprise: this movie belongs to a Christmas cinematic universe centered around the Chesterton hotel. We’ve seen the hotel and in fact been introduced to these characters in a previous film – Miss Me This Christmas.

You Can’t Fight Christmas is about the hotel’s decorator, Leslie Major (Brely Evans). She’s the self-proclaimed Queen of Christmas, and every year she turns the hotel into a Christmas wonderland to which hotel guests flock. But their robust Christmas season can’t sustain the hotel during the rest of the year, and elderly owner Mr. James (Richard Gant) is ready to pass the torch to grandson Edmond (Andra Fuller). The only problem is Edmond’s business partner, Millicent (Persia White), a stark raving bitch with a power point presentation to win his heart. So that’s a complicating factor when Leslie and Edmund have a meet-cute that literally has her falling into his arms. But can she really afford to fall for the enemy, the man who may be responsible for the loss of her job?

Rebel Wilson recently declared that she was the first plus-sized woman to star in a romantic comedy. She conveniently that black women, like Queen Latifah and Mo’Nique have been doing it for years. Even this throw-away Christmas movie manages to make it work. Our leading lady is charismatic and holds her own on the screen. But make no mistake, this is still formulaic and predictable. It goes how every lousy romantic Christmas movie goes. So if you have time to burn and low-key cheer to achieve, this movie is just about tolerable. Which is just about the nicest thing I’ve said about one of these movies in a long, long time.

Angel of Christmas

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Susan is writing an article about her family’s Christmas angel. Her great-grandfather carved it himself , and gave it the lavender eyes of a Broadway actress he was in love with. Her family has put it on their outdoor Christmas tree every year since, and Susan’s mother attributes magical properties to it. As the article will say, it brought her and her husband together, as well as her grandparents. Will it do the same for Susan? And can she dig up the name of the mysterious actress who stole great-grandpa’s heart?

The angel does in fact dig up two possible suitors: a straight-laced, uptight businessman, and a free-spirited artist. Who will she choose? Or will she in fact realize that neither one is all that impressive, and being single is preferable to being tethered to a boring dude, whether he’s got paint smudged on his cheek, or a coffee stain on his $100 Hugo Boss tie.

As she gets to know one of the suitors, they discover a lot of commonalities that had Sean and I wondering if they’d turn out to be kissing cousins. It started to sound like great-grandpa might have stashed a side piece in a cabin in the woods. I wouldn’t want to spoil the ending for you (as if there can be any doubt when it comes to a Hallmark movie), but yeah, there’s cheese and unlikely romance, a touch of christianity, and there’s even a cameo of my work (courtesy of snowy Ottawa stock footage).

Angel of Christmas is not a good movie or even an entertainingly bad one. It’s not entertaining at all. It’s a movie that exists and I suggest you do not watch.

Ms. Matched

4 Replies

The opening credits weren’t quite finished but I already felt offended and degraded as a woman. Is that a record?

Netflix has bought all these (I’m assuming) made-for-TV monstrosities and I keep wondering who the hell they’re meant for, but now I know. Epiphany! The women who watch Hallmark movies are the same women who vote for Trump. In fact, Hallmark may even be complicit in brainwashing these women into buying into the patriarchy, and by extension Trump, even though it goes against their own interests!

Hallmark teaches us that a woman’s greatest achievement is landing (and keeping!) a husband, even if he’s a workaholic and a bully. It doesn’t matter as long as he can support a family; a woman’s second greatest achievement is pushing lookalikes out her vagina and immediately indoctrinating them in her ignorant, meatloaf-eating ways. Hallmark essentials: a courtship that looks a lot like hateship, because the couple is incompatible; a baking montage (a woman’s place is in the kitchen, flour on nose not optional!); a stark-white cast at all times. And if you end on the big, floofy wedding, there’s no responsibility to show the inevitable divorce in roughly 7 months time.

In this particular movie, and yes, it’s hard to tell them apart: Libby is a wedding planner hoping (urgently needing) to drum up business at a bridal convention. Ben is a financial planner and author; he’s just written a book encouraging affianced couples to dump the big event and think small. This is very bad for business – Libby’s included, but Ben makes enemies out of all the vendors at the wedding event.

Anyway, Ben is so gorgeous (this is Libby’s assessment, not mine) that she keeps pushing down those pesky feelings about being undermined and disrespected in order to be swept off her feet by the sheer romance of…hot dogs? But then she’s continuously brought back to Earth with reminders of things like bills, eviction, and penury. Will these two crazy kids ever compromise?

Nope! But they get married anyway. On a boat. The end.

This Means War

1 Reply

I’m not usually one for guilty pleasures; I take a lot of pleasure, and feel very little guilt. But there’s just something about this movie that makes me a) like it, and b) feel bad about liking it.

It’s a romance. There, I said it. It’s an unconventional romance, but still. Reese Witherspoon, who does little to lend the film credibility, plays a product testing executive who loves her job which leaves little time for anything else. But her crazy friend Chelsea Handler signs her up to an online dating site and by the next morning she’s dating not one but two very handsome, very eligible bachelors.

Bachelor #1: a devoted single father, hard-working Tom Hardy. Polite, romantic, safe, sweet.

Bachelor #2: ladies’ man, man about town Chris Pine. Knows all the right movies, uses them liberally.

The catch (there’s always a catch): the two suitors are actually best friends. And also, they’re both CIA.

So when they decide to date her concurrently so that she may pick between them, they of course go off the chain on security details, intel, the works. It’s like dating on steroids – and yet, idiotically, she never notices.

Predictably, she likes them both. And is also overheard reporting on their flaws: Chris Pine’s tiny hands, Tom Hardy’s being, unforgivably, British.

But there’s a charming chemistry between all 3 of them – perhaps most convincingly between the two men (now there’s a movie I’d never feel guilty about loving!). And Chelsea Handler keeps popping up to offer vulgar advice, injecting a Reese Witherspoon movie with a little more edge than usual.

McG’s work is clumsy, but the movie is fun and breezy and a tiny departure from the norm. But really, let’s be honest: Tom Hardy. It’s really just a straight hour and a half of Tom Hardy gazing, with just enough bombs and bullets that, if you’re lucky, your husband won’t even notice what you’re up to.