Me choosing a Valentine’s Day movie for you is like picking a chocolate out of one of those heart-shaped Russell-Stover boxes that’s missing its map. You just don’t know what you’re gonna get – or if it’s gonna make you barf.
I’ve put together a comprehensive list of the Valentine’s Day movies that I’d choose for myself any day of the year. It’s uniquely categorized; My definitions of love and romance are questionable at best. Proceed with caution.
And Happiest of Valentine’s Days to you and yours.
Terrible news if you’ve been a fan of the in-your-face horror options presented thus far (See Halloween, Drag Me To Hell, and Identity). More along the lines of Absentia, but with a grander, more classic tone, The Eclipse is at its heart a romance. A romance with horror as its backdrop.
It’s two days into March and I’m bringing an official (and officially late) end to #ChickFlickFebruary. I wanted to end with something classic. I wanted to end with something new and different. I had a strong desire for something with a bit of a twang, maybe a Southern Belle, and crazy rich mothers with a lot of absurd rules for their precious daughters. I figured I’d watch The Notebook. It was also suggested I watch Boy Meets Girl.
Made a decade apart, there are many reasons these films might be seen as polar opposites. What’s most striking, though, is that their differences are totally unremarkable.
The Notebook (2004)
I’ve loved another with all my heart and soul; and to me, that has always been enough.
This is the new classic, isn’t it? This is the movie women supposedly sit down and watch with a cup of tea, a box of kleenex, and/or a pint of ice cream (depends on how much crying you’re planning on doing – that shit melts).
You know that movie that you think is the quintessential chick flick? Maybe it’s Pretty Woman. Or When Harry Met Sally? Guess what? It’s not. And Notting Hill?
It’s NOT a chick flick.
Notting Hill (1998)
Oh, sod a dog, I’ve made the wrong decision, haven’t I?
Hugh Grant as William Thacker is the relatable protagonist. Julia Roberts as Anna Scott is a $15 million a picture actress with seemingly minimal friends and stardom induced problems – she is representative of no woman I have ever known (in fact, not even Roberts, herself). She falls in love with him. He can’t believe it. He tells her she should star in a Henry James film. She does.
Is this a woman’s fantasy?
What Notting Hill actually is, is a regular man’s fantasy.
It’s been a nice holiday break, but 2016 is alive and kicking, and so time to get back to the usual bitching (wasn’t that rhyme just too cute?). It’s a new year, and I think we could use some new content, don’t you?
Here’s a bit of what you can expect from One Critical Bitch in the upcoming weeks: