The Rom Com Thread

[finesse]

Except that the plot (of the first one, at least -- I didn't see the others) is about OJ getting wrecked and almost dying in the hospital. If you want to see OJ suffer, Naked Gun might be the closest thing.

The wheelchair scene is easier to appreciate as well.

 

[breepf]

I agree with you. But people aren't good at talking about films. It will probably surprise nobody that I can write five paragraphs on why As Good As It Gets is so wonderful, but that's not the norm. Especially on a message board, as most people have to think more because film aesthetics is probably not at the top of their minds.

Well, let's hear it. Why is As Good As It Gets so wonderful on narrative and/or aesthetic lines?

 

[superrific]

Well, let's hear it. Why is As Good As It Gets so wonderful on narrative and/or aesthetic lines?

Well, I don't have time at the moment for a lengthy disquisition and I doubt anyone would want one, but I will try to make at least five points briefly. Spoilers ahead, though I will try to minimize.

1. First, the most obvious feature of the movie is the unbelievably crisp and evocative dialogue. It's one of those films where half the dialogue or more ends up in the "Quotes" section of its IMDB page. "People who talk in metaphors can shampoo my crotch" is one of my favorite lines in cinema. "I think of a man, and remove all reason and accountability" is brilliant because it shows who Melvin Udall really is -- a man who puts on an air of misogyny as a defense mechanism, and because he is gifted with words, he can be withering and effective, which also makes people not like him and a cycle is created. When the cycle breaks, he turns out to be not so bad.

2. But, importantly, he turns out to be not so good, either. I like movies that defy genre cliches. They are more interesting, more unpredictable, more engaging. It's easy to write a rom-com with a charming, good-looking male lead like Hugh Grant. Writing a rom-com with a misanthropic, OCPD old guy in the lead. And that makes the ambiguous ending so satisfying. In most rom-coms, the couple is painted as living happily ever after, two lovebirds who finally find their Mr. or Mrs. Right.

In As Good As It Gets, Helen Hunt is clearly settling. She doesn't love Melvin Udall. She has come to see through his worst qualities and appreciate that he cares for her in his own way, but he's still a weirdo and it still bothers her even at the end. She's with him because he's rich and he will take care of her and her son. And she manages to cloak that dependence as a form of affection because she needs that to feel OK about herself. Most people settle in some fashion. Our actual mates aren't necessarily all that much like our real mates. We don't think of ourselves as settling, perhaps, because we've pre-settled: we've identified which pond we swim in and have resigned ourselves to the selection it presents. So too with Carol in the movie.

3. The juxtaposition between Simon and Melvin is fascinating. First, Simon -- a gay man with the "gay man habit" of organization -- is the only person who can actually identify with Melvin in some way, as he kind of gets the OCPD. But Melvin is also mean to him and has a powerful anti-gay persona. So they are antagonists, but manage to find some common ground.

The nature of their pain is also instructive. Simon was raised in a good household, with solid parents. If he was straight, he'd have a lovely family -- but they don't accept him as a gay man. That rejection was formative for him and it accounts for much of the pain and shame he feels in the film. Melvin, by contrast, had a terrible upbringing at the hands of abusive parents. But for that reason, he doesn't really care about his childhood. It obviously shaped him, but not in any way that he can recognize, or at least is willing to recognize.

The thing that Melvin can't do is articulate his pain, and that's why he has trouble talking about it, and that's why he is who he is and why people don't like him. And he starts to get it when he sees Carol sympathizing with Simon. Maybe some of that sympathy would be nice, he thinks. But he clearly has no idea how to manage it and so he bombs out. At the same time, it's unclear if he ever gets it all. The line he says when in the car, "it's not that we had it so bad, as much as everyone else had it so good" (this one I'm paraphrasing) reveals his state of mind but it is of course useless to Simon.

4. The common love triangle is replaced by the sympathy triangle. Melvin is really hurt and taken aback by Carol's sympathies for Simon, and he begins to view Simon as his rival (as revealed in the wonderful restaurant scene). Which is quite the twist, since Simon is gay. And that's Melvin Udall's life, full of self-created contradictions that stem from his inability to address his mental condition. The growth of his character is tied to his partial realization of his own responsibility in creating the life he leads, the one he derides as "as good as it gets." But it's still only partial. He's a work in progress.

All of this makes the characters in the film vastly more interesting than the typical rom-com denizens. There is a richness and realism in the portrayals that is highly unusual in a dialogically stylish film of any genre. Tarantino writes great dialogue, but part of that great dialogue comes from the self-conscious unreality in which it is situated. Don't get me wrong -- I love Tarantino. But the premise of Inglorious Basterds is ridiculous, and it's easy to write great dialogue if you're willing to create highly artificial situations (like the basement scene that is correctly applauded as an amazing feat of movie-making, but one that is sort of absurd on its face). As Good As It Gets also has great dialogue without defying realism, so long as you're willing to understand Udall as a man with a debilitating mental condition (that is portrayed with sufficient, if not perfect, faithfulness).

Well, that's four points but many paragraphs so I will stop here. I'm going by memory, btw, so some details might not be quite right. I've seen the film three or four times, most recently about six years ago.

 

[breepf]

4. The common love triangle is replaced by the sympathy triangle. Melvin is really hurt and taken aback by Carol's sympathies for Simon, and he begins to view Simon as his rival (as revealed in the wonderful restaurant scene). Which is quite the twist, since Simon is gay. And that's Melvin Udall's life, full of self-created contradictions that stem from his inability to address his mental condition. The growth of his character is tied to his partial realization of his own responsibility in creating the life he leads, the one he derides as "as good as it gets." But it's still only partial. He's a work in progress.

I have not seen this film in a very long time and I don't consider myself an arbiter of what counts as good or great dialogue.

In terms of narrative, what you describe that interests me the most is the substitution of a "sympathy triangle" for a "love triangle." Like I suggested, I can't really say whether it's an accurate description. But if it is, As Good As It Gets would interest me on the grounds that it is hollowing out the romcom genre to give it a melodrama engine.

WTF am I talking about?

The go-to mode of narration in Hollywood films--excepting some comedies--is melodrama. In this context, melodrama does not describe a discrete genre, but an overarching logic of storytelling more akin to tragedy or comedy. Among other things, the melodramatic mode identifies suffering as a sign of virtue. It's the reason why the prerequisite for revenge films is some moment of acute suffering: John Wick must lose his wife and dog; if he doesn't suffer those losses, and he just kills hundreds of people for no good reason, he's a psychopath, not a hero.

Put more simply, Hollywood protagonists are almost invariably victims. I've watched a number of movies in the past few days: Gosling's character in The Fall Guy is victimized by another character in an opening-scene accident; the protagonist of Rebel Ridge is hassled by the police; the protagonist of Monkey Man watches bad guys kill his mother (just like Batman!); Juror #2 upends the formula a bit, though I won't spoil Eastwood's film; in The Woman of the Hour, Anna Kendrick's characters suffers the humiliations of Hollywood and even the serial killer has some deep-seated trauma that bubbles to the surface at an opportune moment.

I don't recall any dead wives or extended murder orgies in AGAIG, but that does not exempt it from a basic logic of melodrama. This film vouches for its "realism" by internalizing the requisite suffering, at least in Melvin's case, or by pointing to social discrimination (I'm guessing) in Simon's case. (FWIW, Philadelphia treats AIDS on similarly melodramatic lines). Like I suggested, the innovation--though I'd guess that one could identify other films playing in this same sandbox--is to regard suffering as a suitable proxy for love. And so, for me at least, the real point of departure is to think about why we would accept that substitution.

 

[superrific]

1. In no way does AGAIG identifies suffering as a sign of virtue. Melvin Udall is clearly a worse person because of his past and his mental condition. Simon's suffering is portrayed as a form of self-pity that he overcomes. There isn't any social discrimination that I can remember against Simon -- indeed, he's a very successful painter (well, was until his last show).

2. I don't think you can plausibly describe the movie as melodramatic. Melodrama prizes emotional appeal over character and dialogue. As Good As It Gets does the opposite.

3. We don't have to "accept" sympathy as a substitute for love. It's just an interesting twist in a genre convention that makes the narrative less cliche and more insightful about how people grow and what motivates them. Nobody wanting to make a movie like it would copy that. The whole point is to do new things.

4. You are right that often big budget action movies box themselves in with the simultaneous requirement that the hero be a big bad killing machine and also a good person. But the best ones question often whether that tradeoff -- i.e. seeking justice versus collateral damage -- is acceptable. For instance, the presence of that introspection in Casino Royale is one of the things that makes it the best Bond movie by far.

 

[superrific]

I have not seen this film in a very long time and I don't consider myself an arbiter of what counts as good or great dialogue.

Well, one marker of great dialogue is that there's a hidden subtext lurking beneath playful or clever word play. Thus can the characters communicate deep ideas without delving into preachy lectures.

Example: in Pulp Fiction, when Jules is interrogating Brad. Brad says, "we got into this with the best of intentions," and then Jules shoots the guy on the couch, before saying, "I'm sorry, did I break your concentration? Oh, you were finished? Well, allow me to retort. What does Marcellus Wallace look like."

That's a great line because gangsters don't usually use words like retort. It catches us off guard, and it's interesting. But what Jules is also telling Brad, without saying so explicitly, is that this isn't going to be a discussion. He's coopted the language of reasoned discourse to make the point that there is no reasoned discourse here. Jules is a hit man sent to kill these guys. End of story. He also likes to have a little fun with his victims before shooting him. And boy does he have a personality.

 

[breepf]

1. In no way does AGAIG identifies suffering as a sign of virtue. Melvin Udall is clearly a worse person because of his past and his mental condition. Simon's suffering is portrayed as a form of self-pity that he overcomes. There isn't any social discrimination that I can remember against Simon -- indeed, he's a very successful painter (well, was until his last show).

2. I don't think you can plausibly describe the movie as melodramatic. Melodrama prizes emotional appeal over character and dialogue. As Good As It Gets does the opposite.

3. We don't have to "accept" sympathy as a substitute for love. It's just an interesting twist in a genre convention that makes the narrative less cliche and more insightful about how people grow and what motivates them. Nobody wanting to make a movie like it would copy that. The whole point is to do new things.

4. You are right that often big budget action movies box themselves in with the simultaneous requirement that the hero be a big bad killing machine and also a good person. But the best ones question often whether that tradeoff -- i.e. seeking justice versus collateral damage -- is acceptable. For instance, the presence of that introspection in Casino Royale is one of the things that makes it the best Bond movie by far.

#1 Yeah, the film psychologizes the emphasis on suffering to offer a more "realist" take on the melodramatic mode. Does Melvin become a better person by the end of the film? Does he escape or mollify his self-inflicted harms? He's playing in the melodramatic sandbox. I mean, it's a James L. Brooks film.

#2 See above, re: the difference between melodrama as a discrete genre ("maternal melodramas," "family melodramas," and the like) and melodrama as a mode. If you think that melodrama is just women crying and professional wrestling, you're incorrect. Melodrama is the narrative air we breathe.

#3 I don't understand this point, though I will say that I'm also not suggesting that AGAIG is an exercise in moral instruction. But if sympathy is what yokes together characters, and the scarce resource over which characters struggle, then yes, yes indeed, that reads as melodramatic in the modal way described above. As I said before, what's interesting about this narrative--at least based on my reconstruction--is that it jettisons love for sympathy.

#4 I don't think moral reflection in a movie about killing makes it sophisticated. But such reflection is certainly read as sophistication and, more to the point, an exercise in "serious" realism. Oooh, it's Bond, but with journaling.

 

[breepf]

Well, one marker of great dialogue is that there's a hidden subtext lurking beneath playful or clever word play. Thus can the characters communicate deep ideas without delving into preachy lectures.

Example: in Pulp Fiction, when Jules is interrogating Brad. Brad says, "we got into this with the best of intentions," and then Jules shoots the guy on the couch, before saying, "I'm sorry, did I break your concentration? Oh, you were finished? Well, allow me to retort. What does Marcellus Wallace look like."

That's a great line because gangsters don't usually use words like retort. It catches us off guard, and it's interesting. But what Jules is also telling Brad, without saying so explicitly, is that this isn't going to be a discussion. He's coopted the language of reasoned discourse to make the point that there is no reasoned discourse here. Jules is a hit man sent to kill these guys. End of story. He also likes to have a little fun with his victims before shooting him. And boy does he have a personality.

Like its title suggests, Pulp Fiction is an exercise in genre reflexivity. In this particular exercise, part of that reflexivity is putting 'unusual' dialogue in the mouths of gangsters. Godard did it more than 30 years before Tarantino. And then Truffaut did it right afterwards. In any case, I don't know if that reflexivity makes the dialogue great--what's more useful, I think, is to see the outlines of the particular game that Tarantino is playing.

 

[superrific]

#1 Yeah, the film psychologizes the emphasis on suffering to offer a more "realist" take on the melodramatic mode. Does Melvin become a better person by the end of the film? Does he escape or mollify his self-inflicted harms? He's playing in the melodramatic sandbox. I mean, it's a James L. Brooks film.

#2 See above, re: the difference between melodrama as a discrete genre ("maternal melodramas," "family melodramas," and the like) and melodrama as a mode. If you think that melodrama is just women crying and professional wrestling, you're incorrect. Melodrama is the narrative air we breathe.

#3 I don't understand this point, though I will say that I'm also not suggesting that AGAIG is an exercise in moral instruction. But if sympathy is what yokes together characters, and the scarce resource over which characters struggle, then yes, yes indeed, that reads as melodramatic in the modal way described above. As I said before, what's interesting about this narrative--at least based on my reconstruction--is that it jettisons love for sympathy.

#4 I don't think moral reflection in a movie about killing makes it sophisticated. But such reflection is certainly read as sophistication and, more to the point, an exercise in "serious" realism. Oooh, it's Bond, but with journaling.

You've expanded the meaning of melodrama so far that it loses all meaning. You're implying that all character growth is melodrama. Melodrama -- whether mode or genre -- is always characterized by a focus on the emotive impact of a scene to the exclusion (or at least deemphasis) of other factors. Again, AGIAG just doesn't do that. Is there suffering? Well, duh. Stories don't exist without some conflict, and suffering is one of the major categories.

"Does Melvin become a better person by the end of the film? Does he escape or mollify his self-inflicted harms?" also applies in equal force to Odysseus.

Trust me, I am not confused about melodrama and I do not think of it as women crying or the like. Note that "jettisons love for sympathy" isn't quite what I said. It uses the sympathy triangle as a plot structure in lieu of the love triangle. It's the reason Melvin sees Simon as a rival for Carol's heart.

 

[breepf]

You've expanded the meaning of melodrama so far that it loses all meaning. You're implying that all character growth is melodrama. Melodrama -- whether mode or genre -- is always characterized by a focus on the emotive impact of a scene to the exclusion (or at least deemphasis) of other factors. Again, AGIAG just doesn't do that. Is there suffering? Well, duh. Stories don't exist without some conflict, and suffering is one of the major categories.

"Does Melvin become a better person by the end of the film? Does he escape or mollify his self-inflicted harms?" also applies in equal force to Odysseus.

Trust me, I am not confused about melodrama and I do not think of it as women crying or the like. Note that "jettisons love for sympathy" isn't quite what I said. It uses the sympathy triangle as a plot structure in lieu of the love triangle. It's the reason Melvin sees Simon as a rival for Carol's heart.

No, I haven't expanded the meaning of melodrama. There's a wealth of scholarship on this issue that you're welcome to read. Check out Linda Williams or Peter Brooks to start.

I haven't given the question much thought, but stories can exist without conflict. Have you ever read Genesis 1? The point isn't the ubiquity of the suffering. The point is the utility of suffering as a metonym for the virtue of a character. Odysseus, Achilles, and Oedipus are not virtuous because they suffer.

To be honest, I'd add this amendment on AGAIG with the proviso that I have not seen this movie in years: it sounds like Brooks accidentally seizes on a narrative structure (this so-called sympathy triangle) that has the odd effect of dramatizing how melodrama pushes audiences to confer virtue onto characters.

 

[superrific]

Like its title suggests, Pulp Fiction is an exercise in genre reflexivity. In this particular exercise, part of that reflexivity is putting 'unusual' dialogue in the mouths of gangsters. Godard did it more than 30 years before Tarantino. And then Truffaut did it right afterwards. In any case, I don't know if that reflexivity makes the dialogue great--what's more useful, I think, is to see the outlines of the particular game that Tarantino is playing.

I'm not going to derail this thread with Pulp Fiction. I'll just say that I don't find it instructive or helpful to criticize films or literature for being mere instances of some larger concept, when you've defined the concept so capaciously as to subsume everything. I mean, Godard did it 30 years before Tarantino. Dante did it about 800 years before Godard. Lord Byron winked his way through an entire epic poem (or semi epic) by repeatedly rhyming Don Juan with phrases like "true one." There's a LOT more going on in Pulp Fiction than rehashed reflexivity.

Anyway, Pulp Fiction <> rom-com. If you want to start a new thread, go for it.

 

[superrific]

No, I haven't expanded the meaning of melodrama. There's a wealth of scholarship on this issue that you're welcome to read. Check out Linda Williams or Peter Brooks to start.

I haven't given the question much thought, but stories can exist without conflict. Have you ever read Genesis 1? The point isn't the ubiquity of the suffering. The point is the utility of suffering as a metonym for the virtue of a character. Odysseus, Achilles, and Oedipus are not virtuous because they suffer.

To be honest, I'd add this amendment on AGAIG with the proviso that I have not seen this movie in years: it sounds like Brooks accidentally seizes on a narrative structure (this so-called sympathy triangle) that has the odd effect of dramatizing how melodrama pushes audiences to confer virtue onto characters.

1. If you want to start a thread on aesthetic philosophy or film studies, you're welcome to. I have my doubts that it will be interesting to anyone but us, but sure. Let's not derail this thread.

2. None of Simon, Carol or Melvin are virtuous because they suffer. I've already addressed this. Carol is virtuous because she does her job despite Melvin being a complete asshole, and tries to control him from below a bit like Milley did to Trump. She's virtuous because she recognizes and appreciates what Melvin did for her, and attempts to pay it forward (pun intended). Melvin never becomes virtuous.

3. I am not aware of any non-boring story without conflict. Genesis 1 isn't much of a story, and even if it was, it's so short as to be unimportant. Borges also wrote "stories" lacking conflict but they were also typically very short, and aren't really analyzed as "stories" per se. They are usually philosophical puzzles wrapped in narrative cloak. That's neither here nor there.

4. There is nothing accidental about AGAIG. It seems to me that you have something against James Brooks. I'm not going to debate him on this thread either. I don't even like his work all that much, outside of AGAIG. Props should go where deserved.

 

[breepf]

I'm not going to derail this thread with Pulp Fiction. I'll just say that I don't find it instructive or helpful to criticize films or literature for being mere instances of some larger concept, when you've defined the concept so capaciously as to subsume everything. I mean, Godard did it 30 years before Tarantino. Dante did it about 800 years before Godard. Lord Byron winked his way through an entire epic poem (or semi epic) by repeatedly rhyming Don Juan with phrases like "true one." There's a LOT more going on in Pulp Fiction than rehashed reflexivity.

Anyway, Pulp Fiction <> rom-com. If you want to start a new thread, go for it.

Dante and Byron have no bearing on the issue. Tarantino named his production company after a Godard film--it is completely reasonable to draw on the French New Wave to understand his films, though the FNW is not some magic cipher. Tarantino is clearly a pluralist who considers himself a self-taught student of many informal "schools" of film. And, sure, his films can be understood with no background knowledge, but it's uninformed to make claims about the "greatness" of his dialogue without providing context on the aesthetic game that he imagines himself to play.

The problem, as I see it, is that your take on film relies too heavily on romantic presumptions. To play a genre game, Pulp Fiction has to complement its repetitions with variations.

 

[breepf]

1. If you want to start a thread on aesthetic philosophy or film studies, you're welcome to. I have my doubts that it will be interesting to anyone but us, but sure. Let's not derail this thread.

2. None of Simon, Carol or Melvin are virtuous because they suffer. I've already addressed this. Carol is virtuous because she does her job despite Melvin being a complete asshole, and tries to control him from below a bit like Milley did to Trump. She's virtuous because she recognizes and appreciates what Melvin did for her, and attempts to pay it forward (pun intended). Melvin never becomes virtuous.

3. I am not aware of any non-boring story without conflict. Genesis 1 isn't much of a story, and even if it was, it's so short as to be unimportant. Borges also wrote "stories" lacking conflict but they were also typically very short, and aren't really analyzed as "stories" per se. They are usually philosophical puzzles wrapped in narrative cloak. That's neither here nor there.

4. There is nothing accidental about AGAIG. It seems to me that you have something against James Brooks. I'm not going to debate him on this thread either. I don't even like his work all that much, outside of AGAIG. Props should go where deserved.

1. God forbid we derail a thread that lists the names of romcoms.

2. Melvin is an asshole for whom Carol works? In AGAIG, that is the narration equivalent of murdering Bruce Wayne's parents. Might AGAIG modify that basic melodramatic premise? Sure! The point of the mode is not to account for every single detail of the film but to help us identify the tools, so to speak, on which the film can avail itself.

3. Good point: Genesis 1 is an unimportant story in the history of stories. In any case, my point was never that every story with conflict is a melodrama. The Iliad and Odyssey are not melodramas. King Henry IV is not a melodrama. But AGAIG is a melodrama.

4. Yes, you've cut to the heart of the matter. You've seen through my intellectual smoke show. I hate James L. Brooks. Why, you ask? James L. Brooks murdered my family in crime alley. God, how I hate that man. I now fight back against his sinister, melodramatic filmmaking on UNC-related message boards. And his films? Completely hatched out his own mind with no wider sense of culture or Hollywood filmmaking norms. I'm surprised us mere mortals can even understand the cinematic achievement. I'm just glad you're here to explain it to me.

 

[superrific]

Dante and Byron have no bearing on the issue. Tarantino named his production company after a Godard film--it is completely reasonable to draw on the French New Wave to understand his films, though the FNW is not some magic cipher. Tarantino is clearly a pluralist who considers himself a self-taught student of many informal "schools" of film. And, sure, his films can be understood with no background knowledge, but it's uninformed to make claims about the "greatness" of his dialogue without providing context on the aesthetic game that he imagines himself to play.

The problem, as I see it, is that your take on film relies too heavily on romantic presumptions. To play a genre game, Pulp Fiction has to complement its repetitions with variations.

All right. If you want to engage in these discussions, don't drive away your potential interlocutors. This thread was never about Pulp Fiction or Tarantino. At no point did I comment on Tarantino's relationship to the FNW. I just claimed that Pulp Fiction has great dialogue, which to my knowledge is not a point of controversy. I didn't mean "great" as in world-historically original. And it's unreasonable -- and impossible! -- to require everyone to talk at length about the history of film just to make simple points.

I don't know how you could possibly know "my take on film" as a general matter. Or maybe you're again defining a word so broadly that it becomes tautological. I happen to find Brecht's aesthetic theory to be both interesting and insightful, and Brecht is about as fucking far from romanticism as it gets. Thus do I really like Marat/Sade (not Brecht but it draws on his theory of catharsis), Discrete Charm Of The Bourgeoisie, How To Succeed In Advertising, and plenty of other films that cannot be plausibly described that way. I also like some romantic films, as you're using the term.

Probably the reason that you think my take on film relies on romantic presumptions is that the thread is about romantic comedies. And while I understand you are using romantic as a historical/theoretical term, it's also true that most rom-coms are also romantic in that way. Unless there are surrealist rom-coms I'm not aware of (and no Belle Du Jour does not count, as it is just as modally romantic as any of the films you listed).

 

[superrific]

4. I'm surprised us mere mortals can even understand the cinematic achievement. I'm just glad you're here to explain it to me.

WTF dude? You literally asked me to expound on AGAIG. Literally. And then you started criticizing my take, which is fine. So I responded. As did you. You were the one who invoked academic scholarship in film studies. You are the one making fancy claims with jargon (melodrama is not necessarily jargon, but you're using it that way).

And all of that is fine. It's a discussion. But I'm not going to accept this accusatory bullshit. It's not as if my persona is unknown here. You asked for a discussion; I provided you with a discursive partner; and now you take shots at me for no reason. Relatedly, you wonder why nobody wants to talk about film with you. What's my incentive to do that?

I think you wanted to be the big expert on this thread, and you're angry that I have the wherewithal to push back. That's what I take from your accusations, at least.

 

[breepf]

All right. If you want to engage in these discussions, don't drive away your potential interlocutors. This thread was never about Pulp Fiction or Tarantino. At no point did I comment on Tarantino's relationship to the FNW. I just claimed that Pulp Fiction has great dialogue, which to my knowledge is not a point of controversy. I didn't mean "great" as in world-historically original. And it's unreasonable -- and impossible! -- to require everyone to talk at length about the history of film just to make simple points.

I don't know how you could possibly know "my take on film" as a general matter. Or maybe you're again defining a word so broadly that it becomes tautological. I happen to find Brecht's aesthetic theory to be both interesting and insightful, and Brecht is about as fucking far from romanticism as it gets. Thus do I really like Marat/Sade (not Brecht but it draws on his theory of catharsis), Discrete Charm Of The Bourgeoisie, How To Succeed In Advertising, and plenty of other films that cannot be plausibly described that way. I also like some romantic films, as you're using the term.

Probably the reason that you think my take on film relies on romantic presumptions is that the thread is about romantic comedies. And while I understand you are using romantic as a historical/theoretical term, it's also true that most rom-coms are also romantic in that way. Unless there are surrealist rom-coms I'm not aware of (and no Belle Du Jour does not count, as it is just as modally romantic as any of the films you listed).

My previous use of the word "romantic" has no relationship to romantic comedies. Romantic, as in romanticism, is a term that describes the critical approach that you seem to be applying to Hollywood film. This issue is certainly not unique to you, but It's odd to credit film directors as auteurs with sui generis contributions that are nevertheless so clearly and unabashedly based on derivation. If you want to bring up Warhol you can, but then you can tell me how Pulp Fiction makes as radical a claim on art as Empire.

If Tarantino and more or less every other Hollywood director is not an artist, or at least not an artist in the romanticist sense, then we're better off availing otherwise of other models for the work of film directing. The most useful models, I think, derive from ideas of craftsmanship, professionalism, and managerialism, though film directors (and studios) often find it more useful to cloak the exercise of craft, professional, and managerial prerogatives in the garb of romantic art.

Since Hollywood filmmaking is not art in the romantic sense, and since it relies so throughly on these wider collective understandings, it makes perfect sense, I think, to want to situate "great dialogue" within the professional, craft, and consumer contexts that give meaning to its achievement.

 

[breepf]

WTF dude? You literally asked me to expound on AGAIG. Literally. And then you started criticizing my take, which is fine. So I responded. As did you. You were the one who invoked academic scholarship in film studies. You are the one making fancy claims with jargon (melodrama is not necessarily jargon, but you're using it that way).

And all of that is fine. It's a discussion. But I'm not going to accept this accusatory bullshit. It's not as if my persona is unknown here. You asked for a discussion; I provided you with a discursive partner; and now you take shots at me for no reason. Relatedly, you wonder why nobody wants to talk about film with you. What's my incentive to do that?

I think you wanted to be the big expert on this thread, and you're angry that I have the wherewithal to push back. That's what I take from your accusations, at least.

I get that you're an intelligent person, but I think you are nevertheless a frustrating interlocutor inasmuch as you overestimate your subject-matter expertise. You ask me to trust that you understand melodrama. But you're clearly unfamiliar with a well-known argument that's probably close to 30-years old in film studies and 50-years old in literary studies. So rather than having a back-and-forth with questions, requests for elaboration, and maybe then pushback, I get an argument about why AGAIG broke the mold and about why I must hate James L Brooks.

I am glad that you answered my first question. I think a "sympathy triangle" is an interesting idea--it actually makes me want to see the film, though it's currently streaming on bullshit services. But you are often a very uncharitable interlocutor insofar as you do not seem to credit anyone else with any knowledge on the subject at hand.

 

[superrific]

I get that you're an intelligent person, but I think you are nevertheless a frustrating interlocutor inasmuch as you overestimate your subject-matter expertise. You ask me to trust that you understand melodrama. But you're clearly unfamiliar with a well-known argument that's probably close to 30-years old in film studies and 50-years old in literary studies. So rather than having a back-and-forth with questions, requests for elaboration, and maybe then pushback, I get an argument about why AGAIG broke the mold and about why I must hate James L Brooks.

1. I never claimed to be a film studies expert. I never credited anyone with a sui generis anything. You're just making that up.
2. I had no idea when I entered the discussion that you wanted to steer it into something academic with references to film studies scholars. I would have approached things differently if I knew you were going to be bringing in the French New Wave and film scholars. I might have declined, as I probably will for any further discursive requests from you.
3. You have a theory about melodrama. Fine. But melodrama is a word of general application. You don't have a monopoly on its meaning, just because you cite film studies scholars (without links or anything of the sort, btw -- not for authority but if you want people to grasp your comments you should provide some context). That word means something, in ordinary language -- or even ordinary artistic criticism - different from what you're talking about. I find your take unconvincing.
4. I didn't think you need questions asked, as you explained your points in sufficient detail. What questions did you want to field?
5. AGAIG did break the mold for . . . checking notes on what this thread was about -- oh, yeah, romantic comedy movies mostly in America. If you wanted a discussion of its place in overall cinematic history, you should have said so.
6. You made several pejorative comments about Brooks, including that his success with AGAIG was "accidental." It is not so unreasonable to think that maybe your feelings on this matter run deeper than you've indicated.

Enough of this. Btw I knew exactly what you were talking about with the term romantic. I said as much. I also said that almost all rom-coms are romantic in the sense that you're using the word. Do you dispute that? If not, then what are you talking about?

 

[breepf]

1. I never claimed to be a film studies expert. I never credited anyone with a sui generis anything. You're just making that up.
2. I had no idea when I entered the discussion that you wanted to steer it into something academic with references to film studies scholars. I would have approached things differently if I knew you were going to be bringing in the French New Wave and film scholars. I might have declined, as I probably will for any further discursive requests from you.
3. You have a theory about melodrama. Fine. But melodrama is a word of general application. You don't have a monopoly on its meaning, just because you cite film studies scholars (without links or anything of the sort, btw -- not for authority but if you want people to grasp your comments you should provide some context). That word means something, in ordinary language -- or even ordinary artistic criticism - different from what you're talking about. I find your take unconvincing.
4. I didn't think you need questions asked, as you explained your points in sufficient detail. What questions did you want to field?
5. AGAIG did break the mold for . . . checking notes on what this thread was about -- oh, yeah, romantic comedy movies mostly in America. If you wanted a discussion of its place in overall cinematic history, you should have said so.
6. You made several pejorative comments about Brooks, including that his success with AGAIG was "accidental." It is not so unreasonable to think that maybe your feelings on this matter run deeper than you've indicated.

Enough of this. Btw I knew exactly what you were talking about with the term romantic. I said as much. I also said that almost all rom-coms are romantic in the sense that you're using the word. Do you dispute that? If not, then what are you talking about?

Yes, I do dispute that. You seem to be talking about romantic love. I'm talking about romanticism as a theory of art creation. To talk about Brooks making a film with no accidents whatsoever is to give credence, intentionally or otherwise, to a romantic theory of art creation.

If one's aesthetic presumptions are not romantic, to call what Brooks did "accidental" is to simply suggest that he did not pour over copies of academic books on melodrama in order to lay bare the mode. (Likewise, to say that John Ford got "lucky" when he captured a lightning bolt on film in She Wore a Yellow Ribbon is not pejorative.)

I'm well aware that you think that AGAIG broke the mold on romcoms. And I think the idea of a sympathy triangle is interesting within the wider context of film studies, which was part of the rationale for providing an explanation of melodrama as a mode. My explanation gave considerable space for considering AGAIG as a compelling entry in the melodramatic mode. Yes, Brooks saw an opportunity space within the romcom genre--a new permutation of existing genre parts--and seized on it. In so doing, he accidentally--yes, goddamn it, he accidentally--fucked with the mode a smidge. I think that's an achievement, if it bears scrutiny.

And, yes, I am using melodrama in a specific, modal way. I think I was pretty upfront about that. If you needed elaboration to "grasp [my] comments," you were welcome to ask. Here's Linda Williams's book on Melodrama, though there are shorter essays elsewhere:

Amazon.com

Here's Peter Brook's:

Amazon.com