Hollywood killing us softly
It’s evil. A genre of films has subconsciously wormed its way underneath the psyche of a currently unidentified vulnerable sector of society. It is slowly sowing the seeds for a very weak harvest of which the human race will suffer.
Okay, a tad dramatic. But it is worth painting a bleak picture for drastic measures to follow.
The growth of rom-coms is making the single woman suffer. For those feeling particularly vulnerable about their current relationship status, this genre of film feeds their misery in a way that liposuction temporarily cures the fat woman.
A cute band-aid for the trouble underneath.
Rom-coms breed unrealistic expectations of how romance should facilitate itself in a practical world. And women buy into these grand sweeping gestures on the celluloid screen and feel the hope that it will replicate itself in the reality we endure.
If we could all side-step the credit crunch, public transport and bad hair days then maybe, just maybe there would be enough space to let a little bit of Hollywood in. If we were all air-brushed the minute we left our houses and had undergone the Dr Phil confidence boot-camp, then perhaps, just perhaps that big magical soundtrack would sit behind the glamour of overcoming all the odds to get our dream-boat in the end.
But in practical terms, our lives do not resemble the Warner Brothers back-lot. And our dream-boats do not look like a George Clooney or a Brad Pitt.
It is a grey London day that is our setting with our leading man a little shorter, a little messier and a little less polished.
That’s not to take away from what is happening on the scene. It is still a beautiful thing.
All I am saying is make a little more room for reality and nudge aside the thought that romance should just be like the movies put it.
Do you really want to perform in front of a crew? Isn’t it just cute that only the two of you will know what romance and laughter really is?
Okay, a tad dramatic. But it is worth painting a bleak picture for drastic measures to follow.
The growth of rom-coms is making the single woman suffer. For those feeling particularly vulnerable about their current relationship status, this genre of film feeds their misery in a way that liposuction temporarily cures the fat woman.
A cute band-aid for the trouble underneath.
Rom-coms breed unrealistic expectations of how romance should facilitate itself in a practical world. And women buy into these grand sweeping gestures on the celluloid screen and feel the hope that it will replicate itself in the reality we endure.
If we could all side-step the credit crunch, public transport and bad hair days then maybe, just maybe there would be enough space to let a little bit of Hollywood in. If we were all air-brushed the minute we left our houses and had undergone the Dr Phil confidence boot-camp, then perhaps, just perhaps that big magical soundtrack would sit behind the glamour of overcoming all the odds to get our dream-boat in the end.
But in practical terms, our lives do not resemble the Warner Brothers back-lot. And our dream-boats do not look like a George Clooney or a Brad Pitt.
It is a grey London day that is our setting with our leading man a little shorter, a little messier and a little less polished.
That’s not to take away from what is happening on the scene. It is still a beautiful thing.
All I am saying is make a little more room for reality and nudge aside the thought that romance should just be like the movies put it.
Do you really want to perform in front of a crew? Isn’t it just cute that only the two of you will know what romance and laughter really is?
posted by Zap at
9:26 pm
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