“When you grow up, your heart dies.”
Are you a 40-something (or nearly 40-something) who is interested in having everything you ever loved about your childhood ruined? If so, boy is this the book for you . . .
This is a case of everyone is entitled to their opinion – but I’m entitled to disagree with dang near EVERYTHING being opined on. It doesn’t help that the author pulls a Donald Drumpf several times and argues one side only to later argue the other. In order to avoid this review being 47,000 pages, I’m going to stick to the subject that made my eye twitch the most. It appears the author is one of the so-called “modern day feminists.” Dear people like this: Please start a GoFundMe on my behalf so I can purchase a penis because I don’t want to have any sort of affiliation with people like you. It started pretty quickly when Heartburn was declared to be one of the “funniest novels ever written” and When Harry Met Sally was awarded “most quotable film of the 1980s.” Really? There’s one quote . . .
(Unless you live in my house where I do a pretty horrible Billy Crystal impersonation and ask if anyone would “like to partake in a piece of pecan piiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiie” every time we have one. But still, two quotes does not a “most quotable” movie make.)
We also learn that we were all supposed to fall in love with Blane (Blane???? That’s not a name!) when everyone I knew was cheering for the underdog . . .
I mean, seriously, not only was Andrew McCarthy a horrible actor and not particularly attractive, he was also such a smarmy little bastage that it took starring in a movie with a DEAD GUY to give him a redemption arc . . .
We then find out that . . .
“It wasn’t – and it still isn’t – easy being a female movie fan.”
Things just went downhill from there . . .
“Teenage girl audiences just weren’t even in the equation until Twilight came around.”
Scratch that idea of the GoFundMe page for me and start one on behalf of the author instead because apparently she lives in a cave somewhere with no connection to the rest of the world. For every Revenant or Batman v. Superman that is released there are a dozen D.U.F.F.s (holllllllla, Erica). You know why? Because not only do teenage girls (and old bags like me) flock to the theaters in droves to see movies like those, but they cost ZERO dollars to make and movie studios are in the business of making money. Leonardo Dicaprio will probably put some butts in chairs, but he also gets paid eleventy million dollars per film. Same goes with superhero movies. They cost a gajillion dollars and take a lot of time to produce – but they make so much on a global level that it’s all worth it. But a teenage rom-com? Who gives a fart if that puppy only brings in a hundred mill (including DVD sales). They paid the actors about $12 to star in it, production cost was fifty cents and the whole thing was wrapped in six weeks. (Yes, I’m exaggerating, but on the grand scheme of things teeny-bopper romcoms are a goldmine and that’s why so many of them get released each year.)
Which leads us to the ruining of one of my favorites: Sixteen Candles. Why can’t we just enjoy a movie? I don’t want to hear how Sixteen Candles is a depiction of “rape culture.” Hell, I don’t even care about watching Sam and Jake have their first kiss while sitting criss-cross-applesauce on top of the kitchen table. What I really want to see is Sam’s sister high as a kite at her wedding and hear Long Duck Dong talk about no more yanky his wanky. And yessssssss I realize that that’s “racist” – but you know what? Blazing Saddles is the most racist effing movie in the history of ever but it’s also still hilarious.
And seriously you’re going to talk about Jake being “rapey” but then have zero problems with Peter Venkman being a bit of a creepy stalker? You can’t get it both ways. Ghostbusters is most definitely NOT the “depiction of how a man should be.” Uhhhhh, have you even watched the film? Bill Murray is a disgusting manbearpig, but every woman in their right mind still fell in love with him.
Oh, and not only does she argue that Venkman’s brand of misogyny is A-Okay while pretty much every other character in the history of ever is not, but she then dismisses the idea that Ernie Hudson’s character was thrown in as a “token black guy.” HE TOTALLY WAS! While the Hudson race issue is glossed over, a huge deal is made about the fact that Axel Foley and Lisa could not kiss because it was still considered taboo, which was the case at the time, but I’m pretty sure it was less of a stance on interracial relations and more because it was a BUDDY COP movie and not a romance – a formula which has been repeated/will be repeated for eternity. I mean seriously, Rush Hour and Ride Along and on and on and on. The one that messed a good thing up was Lethal Weapon 2 and the inclusion of the stupid ass dead girlfriend storyline.
Going back to the discussion about seriously effed up rape - dare I forget the movie Big where Tom Hanks plays a 13 year old boy who then has SEX with a grown woman. If you’re going to take issue with Sixteen Candles, how in the hell can you give a pass to this?
Even Mr. Mom comes under attack when the author says the movie’s message is “that the swapping of traditional gender roles will probably destroy the marriage and almost certainly the house.” That’s when this happened . . .
Christ on a cracker!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Mr. Mom was a film that showed that there is no such thing as “just being a mom” – it’s a fulltime job and a hard one at that, as Michael Keaton clearly demonstrates . . . .
Once again, both sides of the coin are discussed when Baby Boom is used as an example of how women can have it all? Really? ‘Cause to me that film seems to show that you can have it all, but only if you change the definition of what makes up the “all” that you want.
Things spiral right down the toilet from there with discussions of how “it is impossible to imagine a young woman playing the romantic lead in a movie today without perfectly blow-dried hair, a size 0 body, and body-clinging clothing.” Yeah . . . .
And how we should long for the good ol’ days of “Melanie Griffith’s gorgeously curvaceous and pale body in Working Girl” . . .
We also find out that “women are deliberately excluded from movies.” They sure are . . . .
And that when they are included, it’s only to be as sex objects, which NEVER happens to guys . . .
I could go on and on (and on and on and on), but my heart rate is kind of off the charts and my eye hasn’t stopped twitching since I started writing this, so I’m going to leave it with the one statement that truly made the book jump the shark – that the whole lesson to be learned from Die Hard is that “FEMINISM RUINS EVERYTHING” . This is why we can't have nice things . . .
ARC provided by NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.