This is an article I wrote for Beat Route in it's original form. The published version contained some minor but borderline pointless changes, made by the man in a sorry attempt to oppress my freedom of speech. This is the O.G. shit. THIS IS BLOGPOWER.
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If you’re like me and the thought of watching the latest romantic shit bubble being expunged from Hollywoods ass these days makes you wretch, fear not! For there are alternatives to these clichéd, hollow, fart-fests. Films that dig their nails into our ribs and hold us close at night, whether we want them to or not because the simple truth is that romance in itself is a pretty fucking strange thing, so why should romantic film be any different? "When one is in love, one always begins by deceiving one's self, and one always ends by deceiving others. That is what world calls a romance." That's an Oscar Wilde quote I found by googling 'quotes on romance'. Sounds appropriate. However, there are movies that can still teach us a thing or two about getting to know each other (in the biblical sense and otherwise) and momentarily allow us to put our McConaughate for romance in film aside. Films that stare back at you with that fuck or fight look in their eye and scream, "Baby, you’d better run me back to that hotel, you got me hotter than Georgia asphalt!" Of course, when you get back to the hotel, he or she may or may not turn into a giant insect and try to mutate you while literally becoming one with your body, but hey. Love’s a crazy thing.
No one knows this better than one Mr. Seth Brundle. David Cronenberg’s The Fly (1986) is as tragic of a love story as they come. After discovering a way to make teleportation possible, he decides to give a blossoming reporter the exclusive story and inevitably falls in love with her. Trouble is she has a jealous ex-boyfriend who keeps creeping around acting all sleazy until finally a misunderstanding leads to Seth getting shitfaced and playing around with his teleportation pods. I think we’ve all been there. A fly sneaks into the equation and without even being properly introduced, the pod plays matchmaker with fly DNA and Brundle DNA, slowly transforming him into a treacherous half man/half fly beast with the strength of 10 Brundleflys and a sweet tooth that would blow Phife Dog's mind. We are taught about the tribulations of unplanned parenthood, be it baby or huge maggoty-thing. We learn that sometimes you can’t have your cake and eat it too. Unless vomiting bile onto your cake first and slurping it through a straw is more your style. Ultimately we learn that sometimes in order to prove our love for something, we need to destroy it. Drink deep, or taste not, the plasma spring.
Alternately, sometimes we need to destroy ourselves for the same reason as in Lynne Stopkewich’s Kissed (1996). 10 years ago I went on one of my first dates with my current girlfriend and I asked her if she would prefer to watch a comedy or romance. She chose romance so I naturally chose Kissed. Considering the subject matter and her positive reaction to the film, it was clear she'd passed the test and I thus allowed her to join my street gang. Molly Parker plays a girl who grows up obsessing over death and romanticizing it to the point of, you guessed it, the big "N". She studies embalming and works with the dead to help quell her necrophilic desires. She struggles with dating and relationships because in order to get her motor running, her partners have to be dead. She finally meets a guy who wants desperately to understand her and is willing to make the ultimate sacrifice in order to do so. It might seem that a movie about a girl and her struggles with necrophilia would lose itself in such taboo subject matter, but actually holds a very human and compassionate element that leads us to see parallels between life, love and death that are so strangely relatable, it may very well have you running for the cemetary. So guys, why not treat her to some mid-coital dead-play this valentines day? Spicy!
Alex de la Iglesia’s The Last Circus (2010) plays out like an episode of Saved By The Bell where Zack and Slater are both crushing on the same girl. Only instead of working it out in the end and high fiving, they do PCP and kill everybody. It's the story of a sad clown named Javier who joins a circus and falls in love with an acrobat named Natalia. Natalia is married to Sergio, the happy clown. He drinks and beats the shit out of her on a regular basis. Javier decides he's had enough and it's time for a clown on clown war as they fight for Natalia's love. Too bad she doesn't have any love to give on account of being a total backbiting bitch. Unfortunately for them, they don't realize this until she's driven them both completely insane. The lesson here being that, although you may be seduced into going to great lengths for your sweetheart, it's best to be sure she's not a full blown bunny boiler before you lose your shit and press a hot iron into your face.
Lastly, my favorite romance of all time, a perfect little thing by David Lynch called Wild At Heart (1990). Sailor and Lula are super-duper-more than-anything-I'd-give-up-ice-cream-and-Corey-Haim-movies-for-you in love and all they want to do is run away and be 2gether 4ever. Instead, they end up on a road trip through hell, a bunch of unruly shit happens to them and they are forced to TCB. In fact, Sailor and Lula are so madly in love that at times it inhibits their judgement to the point of near mental retardation. What they've taught me is that even though you may not be able to control the onslaught of fiends and difilers, the dastardly bastards that try and drag you through life's subterraineuos ooze, you can get through it and most importantly almost always dance it out. It sounds stupid, but trust. Even if your girl's nails ain't dry yet, take her hand, crank up your jam, and get hyphy. It's basically the easiest form of romance.
So maybe you're not the romantic type. You're an introvert and a shut in and romance to you means 'succumbing to society's rules, man'. Maybe you've seen all the films I've mentioned and are now comprehensively mortified by the thought of romance. That's ok, too. It all comes down to one thing: Just be excellent to each other.
I think Oscar Wilde probably said that as well. Happy frenching!
