The Art of the "Chick Flick"

Dear Stupid Bitches in Hollywood,

You're not fooling anyone, you know. We've have had it up to HERE with all these recent chick flicks. There's no creativity left in the genre! You've killed it.

Here's the basic format for the plot (pay attention, now, it's easy to get lost in the complexities):

A young woman - this is usually Katherine Heigl or Reese Witherspoon - is shockingly single, even after short scenes with upbeat pop music have established that (a) she's physically attractive, (b) she's intelligent, witty and friendly - usually she's either an artist, journalist, or owns a bakery, and (c) there is a plethora of young attractive (and straight!) men around her. Next, our lady's tragic flaw is revealed. This is usually either that she's a workaholic, is too assertive & demanding, or she has no backbone and is stubbornly sticking to a relationship with a loser. Or some combination of those.

Enter the charming male lead, usually either a young Hugh Grant or James Marsden, who is both dashingly attractive and a little bit of prick. Short, intervening scenes demonstrate that he's maybe a little self-centered, maybe a tad bit insensitive, but it's really covering a fear of commitment and a heart of gold. Chivalry is not in fact dead, he's just too jaded to show it.

At this juncture, we are sometimes let in on the secrets of their hurtful history together, details about who left who first and why. Other times, our central relationship starts afresh when the two fascinatingly original characters meet, usually in an awkward exchange intended as comedic relief but really just an "I'm-glad-that's-not-me" moment, and for one reason or another, they dislike each other. Maybe he called her a floozie (which she probably is), maybe she assumed he's a jerk (which he probably is), it doesn't really become consequential until the crucial Turning-Point-Montage.

(the interim scenes between the introductions & the Turning-Point-Montage are really just fluff. Enjoy them for all the $12 movie ticket's worth)

Here, character development gets on the bullet train and suddenly our Leading Lady is reflecting on her emotional constipation - in a bubble bath by candle light - and then visiting all the coffee shops that remind her of him . Or our Dashing Gent becomes frustrated by those frivolous things that used to bring him joy - namely beer and watching TV - and finds himself daydreaming of her smile. These montages are not complete without some heart-swelling, building music of either the folksy pop or acoustic singer-songwriter genre (to be sold exclusively as part of an $11.99 soundtrack album). These songs are usually of either the Snow Patrol or Ingrid Michaelson variety.

and NOW, the big moment we've been waiting for: They Realize Their True Feelings. This usually involves some kind of rash decision, rushing to catch the object of their affections before they either (1) fly across the country for a new and exciting job opportunity (seriously, who does that?) or (2) marry someone else. Through some inanely stupid plot twist they must always be in a rush, chiefly because this gives the director the chance to include some action shots. If they're really skilled, a galloping horse or speeding car scenario can be included here. AND THEN: The Confession. It usually goes something like this:

Him: I love you.
Her: gasps and stares wide-eyed
Him: I've loved you since I first saw you in your green beret. How could I ever forget the first girl who hit me in the head with a frying pan? You've changed me,                   ,  you saw who I really was even when I couldn't. But don't worry, I don't need any therapy or anything. I probably won't even become unnaturally reliant on you as a source for my psychological well-being and discovery.
Her: tears start welling in overly-wide-eyes
Him: I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life loving you. I'll never return to that grouchy douche bag that I was before and our relationship will always be in this lovey-dovey honeymoon phase, okay?
Her: Yes! starts crying and throws arms around his neck
Him: Final Witty Line.

And the lovers, united at last across mountains of character flaws and chasms of time not spent getting to know one another, share A Kiss. Usually, the rest of the surrounding world has stopped on a pin and the extra characters are enraptured by The Confession and Kiss. They usually perform the important function of applauding after the kiss (doesn't that happen in real life?). Then we have the credit music, upbeat and happy, like "Everlasting Love" or "Love is Endless", promising Happy Endings FOREVER!!!


You know what, Hollywood? What makes me the most upset at chick flicks is that I am squarely in your target audience. And you hook me. Every. Damn. Time. You're killin' my glittery piggy bank. And giving me completely realistic expectations about life in general, you know?

Off to be caustically assertive & stubborn - I'll consider the bubble-bath, character morphing stuff later, but don't hold your breath.

-A Twenty-Something Teeny-Bopper

P.S. here are some notes for my happy ending. Narrated by Julie Andrews, of course.