What Would Nora Ephron Do?
Jun 4th, 2010 by brady
It’s no secret that I’m about as unmanly as they come. I mean, I have the physical strength roughly equal to that of a small to medium-sized child, I don’t know the first thing about cars, and I’m not ashamed in the slightest to admit that I am more likely to go clothes shopping than nearly all the girls I’ve dated combined.
And I watch chick flicks.
There, I said it. I watch them. But not only do I watch them, I like many of them.
Now I realize this fact is not just embarrassing to my man bits, but is also an affront to women everywhere. The film industry—especially in mainstream Hollywood studio productions—is insanely sexist. All you need to do to see this is look at the number of movies with little to no female character development. Or even worse, where the character is there to prop up the male.
I know this!
But I watch them anyway.
What’s more, the reason chick flicks are so widely disliked is because they are often times cliché, formulaic and lacking any mount of depth. Have you ever stopped to wonder why that is? It’s incredibly insulting. The women in my life are strong, intelligent women who are essential to my growth and well being. Am I just lucky to have all the good ones?
Well of course I am. But they’re not the only ones. So why do their movies stoop to such low levels of artistic and intellectual story telling? Simply, I don’t know.
I still watch them.
Of course, if you study these chick flicks, and take them as a dissection of what women are interested in, you’d be left concluding that women only care about romance and tales of love that are steeped in fairly predictable story lines, formulaic constructs, characters who are narrowly developed and endings that are always happy.
Doesn’t change that I’ll sit through one, two even three at a time.
Where I have often drawn umbrage with chick flicks—and where I’ve thought, “I could never write that even if I had a gun to my head—is the mainstay chick flick formula of the lovers parting ways for lack of an ability to recognize and say the one thing that will make everything happy.
We in the audience know what the couple on screen should do. They eventually will say it. But in an attempt to push the plot along, and to create drama, the couple must hem and haw and go through this ridiculous and often times frustrating plot device!
Just tell her you love her! we scream.
Just tell him you’re sorry! we lament.
Why can’t they just see what they need to do?
Film after film after film goes through this very same character arc, despite the fact that at this point, it’s almost laughable to call it a character arc as it’s so over used it reeks of being trite and boring.
Good thing that doesn’t happen in real life!
That’s the problem. Sometimes in life we don’t know what to say. Or how to say it. Or when to say it. And for pride, or stubbornness, or for pain of heart, our judgment becomes so clouded and the pathway so convoluted that we thwart our own efforts to do or say the thing that will make everything right.
And talking about it only makes it worse.
Love, and the resultant heartache and pain it causes, is the most classic of stories. Certainly the most universal. Who among us hasn’t felt pain from the loss of a loved one? Who of us hasn’t suffered the struggle of watching a cherished friend leave our lives for no other reason than we just became so out of sync we no longer recognized each other for who and what they represent in our lives.
Who of us has had to let go.
We all have. And it always hurts.
Unlike movies, we don’t know how the story will end. Without a script, and a series of predictable plot devices, or especially a well-orchestrated musical score to cue subtle emotional changes, we are left not knowing if that thing that should be said will be said.
In real life, the story doesn’t always get to end happily. In real life, people grow apart, and without saying or doing or taking the step that makes the difference, they stay apart.
And I guess that’s what I fear most.
Some people are just too important to let slip away.
But how do you correct it once the slippery slope has taken hold?
Impossible to know. I’m not Tom Hanks. This isn’t When Harry Met Sally. This is real life with real emotions. And the script has certainly not been written yet.
Scratching my head, I can only think, maybe it’s time to whip up some popcorn and ask myself what I’d say if this were a movie and I were a disinterested voyeur. Because as it is, I don’t have the answer. And maybe, just maybe Nora can provide some answers. Let’s hope.
