Friday, August 28, 2009
[romance] dying art in films
Everyone to his or her own, natch, yet methinks the quality of romance in films has drastically fallen away in recent years. Mind you, with the new kick-butt female, it would hardly be safe to go anywhere near her and good luck to her in her future celibacy but for normal moviegoers, well there needs to be some sort of love interest in it.
The action genre, my favourite and any other non-mushy genres are obviously not based on saccharine sweet swathes of dialogue and yet to cut it out altogether seems a nod to our new society where so many men and women now live apart, divorced or never married and where the procreative act alone, with no delayed gratification, is the order of the day.
Olga Kurylenko's Camille was a case in point. She had her butt saved, she was given advice which later helped, she twice gave him a car ride which saved his butt and was there any warmth from either of them? Not a bit of it. The third Bourne had all the makings - there they were in the haircutting scene, she'd already admitted it had been difficult for her in Paris and what does he do? Just looks at her stupidly.
Ghost is obviously the benchmark and Demi "can't wait to get my gear off" Moore doesn't do a bad job but it's a bit saccharine for mine. I prefer it when they're an unlikely pair and they come together through grudging admiration for one another. This is romance of the first water:
It's so romantic when they have their falling out, if you remember and as he storms out, he turns and snaps: "And another thing - I faked every orgasm!" Well, it was better than the final scene of Wars of the Roses, anyway. But for true romance, you can't beat this delicate scene when John Connor and Kate Brewster meet again in the back of a pet van, after ten years :