Wedding Week: The HitchDied Guide to Wedding Movies

Written by Robin Hitchcock

When I was planning my own wedding in 2010 and 2011, I blogged about the strange experience of getting sucked into wedding-world as an allegedly savvy and feminist chick who nevertheless loves weddings. To round out my personal journey through wedding culture (and have a good excuse to watch and write about movies), I watched and reviewed dozens of wedding movies on HitchDied. I’ve finally compiled a full index for those of you following Bitch Flicks’ wedding movies week.

The HitchDied Guide to Wedding Movies

I’ll also share my general reflections on the wedding movie genre: Weddings are such popular centerpieces for movies because they’re sort of a free pass on logical character behavior. Even in real life, weddings exaggerate emotions and make people do strange things (like spend thousands of dollars on chair rental). So in the movies, weddings are basically an anything-goes wonderland of high drahms. None of the characters have to act realistically or believably and the stakes are always extremely high (“til death do us part”!!!). Wedding movies practically write themselves.
So you have your “I suddenly love this person now that they are marrying someone else!” movies (My Best Friend’s Wedding, Made of Honor), “I am going insane because my sister is getting married and I am still single!” movies (When in Rome, The Wedding Date), your “I’m trying to be a good friend here but engagement has turned you into a pod person” movies (Bridesmaids, Bride Wars), your “Oh crap going to this wedding means confronting people and events from my past!” movies (The Best Man, Rachel Getting Married). Ur-Wedding Movie 27 Dresses hits all of these notes and more! 
Even though I had fun with it, I have to say if you are engaged, you should probably limit your exposure to wedding movies. Because so many of them end with broken engagements or dramatic jiltings at the altar, you’ll start seeing potential wedding saboteurs in all your friends, family, and hired wedding professionals. You’ll see the obviously doomed engagements at the start of those movies and worry that if those characters could be so deluded, are you and your partner as well? You’ll think spending thousands of dollars renting chairs is ok because at least you didn’t invite random strangers from your mother’s past for an ABBA-scored  paternity-off. 
Wedding movies are really silly, and they all kind of follow the same patterns, and as such it’s a shame that they take up so much of a share of the movies Hollywood makes about women. But action movies are really silly and all kind of follow the same patterns, and I certainly don’t want Hollywood to stop cranking those out. Really, I love wedding movies (just like I love weddings) even though—or more honestly, because—they can be absurd.

Robin Hitchcock is an American writer living in Cape Town, South Africa. Her wedding colors were blush and bashful. 

Wedding Week: Bigger Than Big: Marriage and Female Bonding in ‘Sex and the City: The Movie’

This is a guest post by Jenny Lapekas.

For those of us who followed the girls on the hit HBO series, Sex and the City: The Movie, directed by Michael Patrick King, was a hotly anticipated film by the time it was released in 2008. We are familiar with Carrie as an avid writer, a New York fashionista, and an independent woman who consistently shies away from marriage. Certainly, Carrie’s disinterest in marriage throughout the show’s run can be interpreted as feminist by audiences. However, Carrie is quickly swept up in pre-matrimonial hysteria such as her designer dress and guest list. Big tells Carrie repeatedly throughout the film, “I want you,” as opposed to the desire for an extravagant wedding, but this sentiment seems to fall on deaf ears. The underlying message–and it’s a feminist one–seems to be this: smart girls don’t fall in love, smart girls love themselves. We meet Carrie as a woman who is attempting to negotiate these two philosophies, and by the end of the film, Carrie successfully marries Big but also prioritizes herself. In fact, her talk of marriage with Big originates from her drive for self-preservation. In reference to their swanky new apartment, she tells Big, “I want it to be…ours,” rather than his.

Carrie marks her territory at “Heaven on Fifth,” as she calls it.

“I wouldn’t mind being married to you. Would you mind being married to me?” Big casually questions as the pair prepare dinner. Carrie requests a “really big closet” in lieu of a diamond ring, a somewhat radical move that breaks with tradition as well as the stereotype that many women are “gold diggers” who equate a man’s commitment to the size of the rock he offers her. Rather, Carrie is financially equipped to find and purchase a diamond herself if she decides she’d like one. Carrie neither supports nor challenges the concept of marriage; throughout six seasons of Sex and the City on HBO, Carrie finds that marriage doesn’t suit her and she’d rather not play the role of wife. She tells Samantha, “There’s no cliché, romantic, kneeling on one knee, it’s just two grown-ups making a decision about spending their lives together.” However, Big does kneel down on one knee to formally propose inside “Heaven on Fifth’s” walk-in closet. In this space he builds, Big is “making room” for his bride, and this act of creation is at once romantic and understated. For Carrie, this gift is paramount in Big demonstrating his commitment to her, but hasn’t he already done so in a multitude of other ways?

Contrary to Charlotte’s engagement party toast, Big remains grounded in reality as Carrie is the one “Carried away.”
When Carrie sternly tells Big, “Wedding before contractor,” as a mother may dictate to a child, Big is unresponsive. Understandably, Big calls Carrie’s wedding preparations a “circus” after learning that their guest list has reached 200. Big is not invested in the wedding but in Carrie, and she fails to see this. When Big jilts her on their would-be wedding day, it signals a downward spiral for Carrie, but also the regenerative process of reexamining who she is without Big while also engaging in some serious girl bonding with Charlotte, Miranda, and Samantha. Later, on Valentine’s Day, wallowing in self-regret, Carrie tells Miranda, “I let the wedding get bigger than Big.”
Charlotte is a spokesperson for the joys and functionality of marriage within a heteronormative lifestyle, complete with the nuclear family by the film’s conclusion.

When Steve comes to the couple’s engagement party to talk to Miranda about his infidelity, Miranda tells him, “I changed who I was for you.” When we first meet Miranda on the television series, like Carrie, she is generally opposed to taking on the roles of wife and mother, but Steve’s character changes all that. Steve’s cheating, then, is a thankless move in Miranda’s eyes, a sign that Steve does not really see his wife, her sacrifices, and her dramatic transformation from a single lawyer to a maternal figure. While Miranda is depicted as a somewhat cold, hyper-logical woman, her relationship with Steve and the child they have together cause her to become nurturing and selfless, perhaps shifting the archetype of the modern woman in New York. Fueled by anger, Miranda tells Big at his and Carrie’s engagement party, “You two are crazy to get married. Marriage ruins everything.” Preoccupied with planning for the big day, Carrie is ignorant to the chord this strikes within the already twice-divorced Big. Miranda is then wracked with guilt and believes that she is responsible for Big’s inability to get out of his car and enter the library to marry Carrie.
It’s not marriage that can “ruin everything,” but over-the-top weddings:  rituals that become more significant than the love, support, and sacrifice they symbolize.
When Samantha tells Carrie that she can cancel her honeymoon by claiming that there was a death, Carrie replies, “Wasn’t there?” This response signals to us that Carrie and Big are already united as one and she feels incomplete without him. Cliche? Yes, but we find comfort in the fact that Carrie finds a way to actualize herself before her reunion with Big; the only drawback is that this path to discovery is incited by the absence of romance.

Bringing the gang on her honeymoon is a decidedly feminist move on Carrie’s part; they are her support system and her surrogate lovers while she and Big are separated. Samantha even spoon-feeds her in bed as Carrie’s being “jilted” at the altar effectively infantilizes her while in Mexico. When audiences observe this pathetic and uncomfortable scene, we are confronted with the notion that, along with Miranda, Samantha has transformed into a maternal character while Carrie grieves. This is undoubtedly the closest Samantha will ever come to motherhood. “Will I ever laugh again?” Carrie asks, and of course, it’s when Charlotte shits her pants. The girls are a reliable source of Carrie’s happiness and stability, a reflection of who she is rather than who she wants to be. Unlike the second movie, in which the gang travels to Abu Dhabi, Samantha is more invested in her friend’s wellbeing than having sex with random men.

Samantha happily mothers Carrie at her low point, and even winks at her as she stirs her food.
The bonding that takes place in Mexico on Carrie’s “honeymoon” is essential to her narrative as a “single and fabulous” New York woman who transitions into wifehood. Carrie has finally come to the realization that marriage does not make her any less fabulous, exciting, sexual, or charismatic. Samantha, Charlotte, and Miranda collectively serve as an anchor as Carrie sifts through her feelings of abandonment after Big fails to show up on their wedding day. A tipsy Carrie tells her girlfriends, “If I met me now, I wouldn’t know me.”

When Carrie returns from Mexico, she takes on an assistant, and it becomes noticeable that Louise (Jennifer Hudson) is the only black character in the film, a surprising detail given that the setting is New York City. In fact, when searching for a new apartment with her son and nanny, Miranda excitedly says, “Look! White guy with a baby! Wherever he’s going, that’s where we need to be.” Is it me or is this line inextricably offensive? A white man carrying a child is highly symbolic of traditional heteronormative values. Together, these alarming observations render the film both racist and classist. Miranda’s in search of an upscale, and thus white, neighborhood that’s safe for her son.

Although Louise’s character helps Carrie to cope with Big’s temporary absence, the women’s class discrepancy is glaring. For Christmas, Carrie gives Louise an authentic Louis Vuitton purse and smilingly exclaims, “No more rental for you!” as if Louise should be grateful to this altruistic, upper-class white woman who’s had it so tough since her rich boyfriend left; it’s difficult to not interpret this scene as one of charity and self-fulfillment.

The poor colored girl from St. Louis is new to the luxury of owning as opposed to renting.

On Halloween, Charlotte suggests to her adopted Chinese daughter, Lily, that she can be Mulan for Halloween, but Lily instead chooses to be Cinderella. Even at her young age, Lily embraces whiteness as a beauty ideal and is more stimulated by the glamour of ball gowns and being rescued by a handsome prince than battle armor and the spoils of war. Seemingly, the fantastical princess narrative trumps a feminist warrior’s tale, at least for a girl young enough to still believe in “happily ever after.”

The laughably mismatched trick-or-treat crew serves as comic relief amidst scenes of loneliness and heartache.
The theme of forgiveness is consistent throughout the film. In an idle taxi cab, Carrie lectures Miranda about how she must forgive Steve for cheating after Miranda pleads, “You have to forgive me.” Once Carrie and Miranda revive their friendship, Miranda agrees to seek marriage counseling, and she reunites with Steve on Brooklyn Bridge, an obvious metaphor for the human condition as flawed but perpetually negotiable.

The meter is literally running on the pair’s friendship as Miranda’s confrontation of Carrie serves as a reflection of her own personal and marital flaws.

It is only once Carrie has made peace with Miranda that she can move forward to reconcile with Big. “There is no right time to tell me that you ruined my marriage,” she spits at Miranda on Valentine’s Day. In fact, there is no marriage to destroy since Big failed to show up. However, the marriage and harmonizing of the four friends is climactic within the film’s plot while Carrie’s marriage to Big takes place almost as an afterthought, part of the film’s resolution.

Carrie’s narrative is one of distress, respite, and absolution; she discovers the true power of forgiveness and grows tremendously as a person without the help of Big. Her “engagement ring” comes to her in the form of expensive shoes she has bought herself but which Big place lovingly on her feet. While Miranda takes her husband back on a bridge–a very public space, symbolic of paths, connections, and journeys–Carrie and Big find each other in a closet–a private space, symbolic of secrets, baggage, and memories. In this way, we understand that the couple’s relationship and marriage are not for public viewing. Because she has only until 6 o’clock to retrieve her shoes, she is again likened to Cinderella. If she arrives too late, though, her prince remains, and he could care less if she shows up in rags or Prada.
We are given the elusive image of Carrie barefoot, sans designer stilettos.
So, is this a feminist film? Well, I think it highlights the significance of female friendship, but Carrie falling comatose when she’s jilted at the altar seems a bit much. While Carrie hires an assistant to organize her life, romantic love seems to be the ultimate goal. Meanwhile, Carrie bonds with the separated Miranda by telling her that she’s “not alone,” she reaches an understanding with the anti-marriage Samantha, and she celebrates Charlotte’s baby-bliss, even as she mourns her relationship, which has not actually ended. The film has its moments, and Carrie overcomes her obstacles without the direction or approval of any man. However, the film’s bigoted lines and treatment of Louise as a modern-day slave leave a bad taste in my mouth.

Jenny Lapekas has a Master of Arts degree in English, and she teaches Composition at Alvernia University in Pennsylvania. Her areas of scholarship include women’s literature, menstrual literacy, and rape-revenge cinema.

    

Wedding Week: Joss Whedon’s ‘Much Ado About Nothing’ and the Wedding That Wasn’t

Benedick (Alexis Denisof) and Beatrice (Amy Acker) in Much Ado About Nothing

Written by Lady T.
Joss Whedon’s adaptation of William Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing is soaked in sex, languidness, and alcohol, as any decent adaptation of a Shakespeare comedy should be. It’s not a “wedding movie” in the traditional sense: there are no Bridezilla jokes, montages of wedding planning going hilariously wrong, or subplots about in-laws fighting each other.
But Much Ado About Nothing does have more than one wedding scene, and the film does employ the classic “left at the alatr” plot point. Claudio (Fran Kranz), in love with Hero (Jillian Morgese), abandons her on their wedding day. What follows is not the typical “wacky wedding hijinx” story, but a story that exposes the true nature of the characters involved in the ceremony, where several male characters reveal disturbing attitudes toward women, and one surprises us by being a little more enlightened than we expected.

Beatrice and Hero react to the behavior of the men around them.

Claudio doesn’t have cold feet because he’s nervous about marriage. At the beginning of the film, there’s nothing he wants more than to go to the chapel and get ma-a-a-a-aried. In fact, he wants to marry Hero the day after she accepts his proposal, prompting her father Leonato (Clark Gregg) to tell him to put on the brakes because he’s not quite ready to transfer ownership of his daughter to a husband…I mean, er, “watch his little girl grow up.”
Then the villain Don John (Sean Maher) tricks Claudio and Don Pedro (Reed Diamond) into believing that Hero is unfaithful to him. Don John stages a moment where his cohort Borachio (Spencer Treat Clark) seduces Hero’s lady-in-waiting, Margaret (Ashley Johnson), in Hero’s bedroom. Claudio and Don Pedro witness two shadowy figures going at it behind a curtain, and believe that Hero is disloyal. She is, as Don John puts it, “your Hero, Leonato’s Hero, every man’s Hero.” (Keep away from that Runaround Sue.)
So, naturally, Claudio and Don Pedro a) forget that Don John is the same villain who was in handcuffs at the beginning of the film for trying to stage a coup against Don Pedro, and b) decide that two shadowy figures in his fiance’s bedroom is concrete proof that Hero is cheating on him. They believe this because someone wrote “gullible” on every ceiling in every building they’ve ever been in.

Dumbass.

Feeling betrayed and resentful, Claudio doesn’t simply call off the wedding or privately ask Hero for an explanation. He manhandles her at the ceremony, shoves her back into her father’s arms, calls her a whore, and refuses to marry her. Don Pedro joins in on the slut-shaming, and once they’re done humiliating Hero in front of her friends and relatives, they stalk off with Don John (who hilariously steals a cupcake from the dessert platter before leaving the ceremony).
The scene is mostly played as serious; Whedon even eliminates Benedick’s Captain Obvious moment where he comments, “This is not a nuptial.” The film focuses on the horrifying behavior of Leonato, the previously affectionate father, who wishes for his daughter’s death after hearing the prince declare that she is nothing more than a “common stale.” Some of his exact words: “Let her die.”
Leonato’s denunciation of Hero is the most disturbing moment of the film, as it should be. Verbal and physical abuse at the hand of a lover or boyfriend is traumatizing and life-altering, but there is something profoundly and uniquely painful in suffering at the hands of a parent. The casting of Clark Gregg, aka everyone’s favorite Agent Coulson from The Avengers, is a particularly brilliant move; any fan of Joss Whedon’s is conditioned to see Gregg as a good guy, and the moment of betrayal feels particularly pointed when coming from the mouth of such a likable actor.

“Spoiler alert–I’m going to call my daughter a whore in half an hour!”

Meanwhile, only two men present at the ceremony believe Hero’s (accurate) version of the story without question. One man is a priest, who is not so much a character as a plot device, serving the same purpose as Friar Lawrence in Romeo and Juliet and coming up with the always brilliant “hey, let’s pretend the girl is dead!’ scheme.
The other man who immediately believes Hero is Benedick.
Remember Benedick? The man in the beginning of the play who proudly proclaimed his eternal bachelorhood to anyone who asked his opinion (and those who didn’t?). The man who only ever referred to Hero as “Leonato’s short daughter”? The man who, when pressed to think of a compliment for a woman, could only say, “That a woman conceived me, I thank her”?
He’s the only male character of note who takes Hero’s word.
Granted, Benedick did not witness Don John’s display of shadow puppet porn theater on Hero’s balcony–but then again, neither did Leonato, who immediately believes the accusations against his beloved daughter. Benedick also knows better than to trust anything that comes from Don John’s mouth.
But even though he believes Hero, he’s not willing to engage Claudio in a fight. He puts the blame on Don John. His position seems to be that even though Claudio and Don Pedro were wrong, they were tricked, and not entirely to blame.
After his conversation with Beatrice, however, Benedick changes his tune. He agrees to challenge Claudio.

Beatrice and Benedick shortly after he challenges Claudio
This is a complete role reversal from the beginning of the film. Claudio, the professed lover, and Don Pedro, seemingly a friend to women, think nothing of denouncing and humiliating a woman in public. Benedick, the proud bachelor and misogynist, prioritizes the woman he loves over his closest friends.
What can we learn about misogyny from the Much Ado wedding that wasn’t?
To put it in the most cliched terms, we can learn that actions speak louder than words. Claudio’s sweet professions of love mean nothing when compared to his behavior towards Hero, and Benedick’s rants against women and marriage are redeemed when he defends one woman on behalf of another woman he loves.
Or, to put it another way–the guy who says a lot of sweet things and seems genuine might turn out to be a gullible asshole with a lot of internalized misogyny, and the mostly-decent guy who stands up for you will still need to make a lot of sexist jokes for the sake of appearances and male ego.
Yay?
(Go see this movie immediately.)

Lady T is a writer with two novels, a screenplay, and a collection of comedy sketches in progress. She hopes to one day be published and finish one of her projects (not in that order). You can find more of her writing at www.theresabasile.com.

Wedding Week: ‘My Best Friend’s Wedding’ Is a Right-Wing Nightmare Interpretation of Women

Julia Roberts in My Best Friend’s Wedding
This is a guest post by Mab Ryan.
I saw My Best Friend’s Wedding when it premiered in 1997. At the time, I thought it was an interesting reversal of the rom-com convention that the leading lady always gets her man. Instead, the leading lady was the villain, while her competition won the happy-ever-after. I remember being disturbed that my friend really wanted Julia Roberts’ character to win the man’s affections. Watching it again now, I have moved past disturbed into nauseated. If Julia Roberts plays the villain, who is the heroine? There are no good options because both main female characters are terrible examples of womanhood.
To get us into the wedding spirit, the credits open over a pink background with four women singing and dancing to Dusty Springfield’s “Wishin’ and Hopin’.” A white woman dons a bridal gown, with three women (two white and one of indeterminate race) in bridesmaid’s dresses. The woman of color is wearing a different color/style gown than the others, for no apparent reason. Enjoy her, because she’s the closest thing to a POC character in this movie. The dance portrays the gist of the US wedding fantasy: cooing over a sparkling diamond ring, tossing a bouquet, pulling at a white glove with one’s teeth, etc. The song ends with the bridesmaid’s genuflecting at the bride’s feet, the bride looking up at a white glow washing over her, like an angel. Good girls follow the proper gender script and have perfect weddings.
Someone nicely made a collage of all this.
Julianne (Julia Roberts) is a restaurant critic. Tuck that fact away because it’s the only indication you’ll get that she has any kind of life outside of the sudden obsession that erupts for the course of the movie. Best friend and former lover Michael (Dermot Mulroney) calls while she’s working, prompting a stream of expositionary nostalgia, and damn if she didn’t just remember the half-assed pact they once made that if they were both still single at 28 (that magical age) they would just give up and marry each other. Too bad he just found someone else now that she’s decided she’s ready to settle for him.
Michael is marrying Kimmy (Cameron Diaz), and they want Julianne to be maid of honor. Julianne falls off the bed on hearing this, cluing us in that we can expect to see more of the Cute Clumsy Girl trope. The wedding is in four days. Yeah, she’s been on a book tour for the past month, but you couldn’t reach her on that foot-long cell phone? The second Julianne hears about the nuptials she decides to break up the marriage and steal the groom. Say what? She had zero romantic interest in this guy until now. “This is my whole life’s happiness. I have to be ruthless.” Aim high, sister!
This character embodies the worst stereotypes of feminists. We’re told she rarely cries, never wears pink, and hates romance and public displays of affection. She’s had no prior interest in monogamy, preferring to enjoy sexual encounters with a series of men. Rather than this being empowering, the movie depicts her in the way any right-wing radio host would expect: a bitter, jealous hag, disillusioned with the single, career-focused life, bent on destroying other women in pursuit of marriage.
Her competitor isn’t a great feminist role model either. Kimmy is the daughter of a rich man who owns . . . something about baseball. Ebert’s review refers to him as a “sports owner,” so we’ll go with that. She’s eight years Michael’s junior and about to forgo her senior year in college (as an architecture major) to travel with her sports writer husband-to-be. Several times, she expresses her preference to finish school and have a life of her own—but but but if it means losing Michael (it does) she will give it all up.
Kimmy is direct with Julianne, stating that she feels inadequate compared to the pedestal that Michael has put his old friend on. “I thought I was like you and proud to be, until I met Michael and found out I was a sentimental schmuck like all those flighty nitwits I’d always pitied.” Yikes. She also explains that she hasn’t chosen one of her cousin/bridesmaids to be maid of honor because they’re “basically vengeful sluts.” This movie does not have a high opinion of women.
Michael walks in on Julianne in her underwear like it ain’t no thang. He is the signal tower for mixed messages, and I’ve no doubt he knows exactly how he’s playing both of these women. But he’s just a garden variety asshole next to Julianne’s maliciousness. At a karaoke bar, Kimmy is conspicuously terrified, but Michael needles her to perform. Julianne takes the mic on the pretense of saving Kimmy, but instead forces her into performing, a feat that backfires when Kimmy’s tone deaf, but her brave performance wins the audience’s admiration and applause. Sadly, this is the most inventive ploy in a plot that has Julianne trying on the wedding ring and getting it stuck on her finger. Wacky!
Julianne cruelly forces a terrified Kimmy into singing karaoke.
Now’s as good a time as any talk about George. No wedding movie is complete without the Gay Best Friend™ played here by gay actor Rupert Everett. His sexuality is actually referenced rather than implied, so that’s progress I guess. But he’s never shown in a romantic situation with a man. And though he does host dinner parties and attend erotic book readings, these are callously interrupted by phone calls from the disturbed Julianne. He hates to fly, but does so (twice!) to come to Julianne’s rescue and offer her the sage counsel that her attempts to sabotage this wedding are doomed and she needs to get over herself. In so many words.
“It’s amazing the clarity that comes with psychotic jealousy,” George says to Julianne.
To make matters more homophobic, in a move that makes absolutely no sense, George is press-ganged into playing the part of Julianne’s fiancé. It’s really gross to watch a gay man forced to play beard to a straight woman, shoved into a closet to suit her conniving privilege. Kimmy hyperventilates in relief that Julianne is apparently no longer her competition, because nothing promises a more stable marriage than making sure there are no hot women around to tempt your man. George gets his revenge by telling apocryphal stories about meeting Julianne in a mental institution where she was receiving shock therapy, because we might as well add mocking the mentally ill to this movie’s list of sins.
Julianne’s meddling turns criminal when she fraudulently uses Kimmy’s father’s email account to send a message that will make Michael want to call off the wedding. The scheme works for about five whole minutes, but Michael decides to go through with the wedding after all. The denouement occurs when Julianne admits her love for Michael and plants a big smooch on him at the wedding brunch, in sight of the bride-to-be. Kimmy runs off crying, Michael runs after Kimmy, Julianne runs after Michael, and no one runs after Julianne because, no joke, she is terrible. She admits this in a lady’s room showdown with Kimmy, while a racially mixed group of women surround them, calling for a cat fight. “I’ve done nothing but underhanded, despicable, not even terribly imaginative things since I got here.” That’s okay movie writers! Acceptance is the first step to improvement. 
Kimmy confronts Julianne in the ladies room where we are reminded that POC do exist.
Michael and Kimmy somehow make up, which is great for them if you don’ t mind that he’s a self-important jerk who will probably end up screwing Julianne/other women on business trips in years to come, or that Kimmy has no self-esteem and is counting on this guy to be her EVERYTHING. Julianne knows that she has lost, and now that it is a solid two hours later and she’s no longer a threat, she’s able to perform her duties as maid of honor and offer the happy couple a toast. Mozel tov. It’ll probably be at least a day before Julianne gets arrested for tampering with a company computer and committing fraud (we can only hope).
George makes that second flight to be at the reception to provide solace for Julianne. I was 14 when this movie debuted and still part of the homophobic evangelical culture I was raised in. I remember thinking it would be nice if these two could now hook up, because I knew that George was gay, but I figured he could “reform.” I’m pleased to say the movie does nothing to encourage this interpretation. He states outright that he has no romantic intentions toward her. And sure, it’s great to have a friend who will drop everything and pamper you even when you have just proven to be a soulless nightmare, but let’s quit using the magical queer, huh?
The takeaway: gay men exist to render aid to straight ladies. Lesbians do not exist. Fat people do not exist. People of color exist only in sports stadium restrooms. Mental disabilities are funny! Women who pursue independence are terrible, and they really just want marriage. Women who pursue marriage by sacrificing their own desires and goals are good girls who are rewarded with husbands. Straight white men, just keep doing what you do, because in the end, you’ll get some girl or other.
Mab Ryan is a fat, geeky, queerish, rainbow-haired feminist currently studying Art and Creative Writing at Roanoke College.

Wedding Week: ‘Sex and the City’: The Movie We Hate to Love

The ladies of Sex and the City on their way to the wedding

This is a guest post by Amanda Morris. 

“Year after year, twenty-something women come to New York City in search of the two Ls: Labels and Love,” goes the opening voiceover for Sex and the City: The Movie. These words set the stage for the decadent, emotional rollercoaster to follow, featuring fabulous clothes, shoes, and the question of what is truly important: the wedding or the marriage?
When I was 37 and getting divorced while finishing my Ph.D., one of my girlfriends sensed the despair I felt (but tried to hide) over feeling alone and worrying that party of one would be my fate, despite intellectual acceptance of my ability to survive and remain a strong solo. Sometimes, emotions trump logic. My friend lent me her Sex and the City collection–the entire series–with the simple words, “Watch this. You’ll feel better.”
As many women likely are when faced with divorce and the possibility of life alone, I was skeptical of any advice laced with platitudes, but this sounded different and I trusted her judgment despite being against the entire series when it first appeared. Who wants to watch a bunch of stereotypical white women flaunt their wealth and privilege and leap from man to man while showcasing physical beauty and flawless fashion taste? My skepticism did not hold up and by the end of the first season, I was hooked. My initial disdain was tempered by truly inspiring and philosophical gems in each episode that I needed to hear in my emotionally questionable state.
By the time the movie was released in 2008, I was a true believer in the friendships, humor, and wisdom embedded in this seemingly frivolous packaging. As most fans were aware, this movie promised Big things for Carrie Bradshaw, played by Sarah Jessica Parker, and her main love interest, John Preston (also known as Big), played by Chris Noth–namely, the movie buzz suggested that their relationship’s fate would be revealed in the film.

Sex and the City official 2008 trailer
Revisiting this film five years later (as a happily paired person once again), I find myself chafing against the film even as I enjoy the drama. The choices and mistakes that Carrie make from the time that she and Big decide to marry to the moment he leaves her at the altar about a third of the way through the story are the choices and mistakes that many modern American women make: ignore the man and his wishes, allow friends to convince you that you need a fancier dress, venue, event, and become more enamored with the grandeur and history of a luxurious location over the real fears and concerns your partner has about a large, intimidating, and ostentatious event.
Initially, Carrie and Big mildly discuss their future over dinner prep and decide to get married, while foregoing the traditional diamond engagement ring, which Carrie does not want. At about twelve minutes into the film, Carrie announces to her friends, Charlotte York (Kristin Davis) and Miranda Hobbes (Cynthia Nixon), over lunch that she and Big made this decision and Charlotte excitedly screams, while Miranda looks on, horrified.
This tension grows between excitement over a traditional (and suggested to be more financially and legally secure) choice to marry and the unconventional decisions that Carrie tries to make as the story quickly progresses. Carrie’s implied choice of simple, civil wedding service is subverted by Charlotte’s “gift” of wedding planner Anthony Marentino’s (Mario Cantone) services, which turns the wedding into a grander event. Carrie’s elegant, vintage, and designer-less knee-length cream dress is not “wedding” enough for Charlotte or Anthony. Upon seeing Carrie’s dress choice, Charlotte frowns and says, “It’s pretty, but it’s so simple,” and Anthony mutters, “The invitation is fancier than the dress.”
Despite Carrie’s intentions to keep her classic dress and small wedding, her Vogue editor (Candace Bergen) offers her the opportunity to be featured in a photo shoot as a 40-year-old bride wearing bridal couture for Vogue’s annual age issue. Carrie agrees and when the Vivienne Westwood dress that she fell in love with at the shoot arrives at her apartment door, suddenly, the wedding takes on greater importance than the marriage. As Carrie explains to Big when she announces the guest list has jumped from 75 to 200, “The dress upped the ante.” Big seems noticeably agitated, responding that he just wants her and could have gone to City Hall.
In this respect, the film works as a rather harsh mirror for American women, especially those of us who have made or are thinking about making these same choices by privileging the wedding over the marriage and rationalizing the extraordinary expense to the possible detriment of our relationships. In the film these choices have consequences: Big leaves Carrie at the altar and by the time he realizes what a mistake his choice is, Carrie and her friends have left the church. When the two lovers see each other in the street, Carrie thrashes Big with her luxurious bouquet while tearily yelling, “I am humiliated!”

Carrie is humiliated

The question once again becomes what will happen to Carrie and Big? For the audience, another question lingers: Were those choices worth this result? As Carrie admits to Miranda during their Valentine’s dinner the following year, “I let the wedding get bigger than Big.”
When Carrie and Big do finally come back together at the end of the film, have an unassuming civil service, and a low-key restaurant gathering with their closest friends, this seems the perfect end.
Big proposes to Carrie at the end of the film
However, even after all of the movie’s (and series’) promises to break with convention and turn tradition on its ear, to learn from mistakes, to know better…three of the four main female characters end up in traditional marriages–husband, wife, and for two of them, children. The film promises an alteration of expectations related to weddings and marriage and ends up in the same rut that American society stubbornly refuses to leave, and because we love the fantasy, the opulence, and the promise of love against all odds, Sex and the City is a movie that we love, but hate that we do.
Amanda Morris, Ph.D. is an assistant professor of multiethnic rhetorics at Kutztown University in Pennsylvania and when she’s not writing or wrangling students, she loves shark fishing, gardening, and cooking with her man.

Wedding Week: ‘Shrek’: Happily Ever After Gets a Green Makeover

Princess Fiona

This is a guest post by Megan Wright.

When I first watched Shrek, I can’t really remember how I felt about Fiona, aside from the fact that I thought it was fantastic that she was fighting Robin Hood and his Merry Men. As the years passed, I bought the movie, and it was also broadcasted on several channels. It was almost impossible to go a year without seeing it. So, as I watched it more and more, I could figure out the underlying themes in Shrek: appearances don’t matter, the locking away of those perceived as different is wrong, and that talking donkeys are awesome. But the most important theme of the movie is how a strong woman almost gets tricked into a loveless marriage because of her low self worth, all due to the standards of beauty society imposes on her.

I’m talking, of course, about Princess Fiona. Fiona is meant to be a deliberate contrast to the stereotypical princess. Her elaborate way of talking is forgotten in favor of insulting Shrek. When Robin Hood tries to rescue/abduct her, she promptly beats the crap out of him. She sings, but when she does, she accidentally blows up a bird. During her years in a tower, Fiona hasn’t simply gazed out a window, but instead taught herself first aid and martial arts. She doesn’t take Shrek’s plan to get her back to Farquaad happily. When Shrek complains that it’s his job, she replies “Well, I’m sorry, but your job is not my problem.” She knows the way she wants this rescue to go, damn it, and she’s not going to go along with Shrek’s plans simply to make it easier on him.

Princess Fiona, not in Ogre form

So why does she get bullied into marrying Farquaad?

The problem is that Fiona lives in a world that tries to separate anyone who doesn’t fit the ideal representation of perfection. Lord Farquaad first talks about it, saying that the fairytale creatures are ruining his “perfect kingdom.” Shrek shows a world that really isn’t too different from our own. Sure, the segregated group includes talking pigs, wolves that enjoy dressing like grandmothers, witches riding on broomsticks, but their problems are still similar. The fairytale creatures are kicked off their land and moved into an inhospitable area (Shrek’s swamp) simply because they don’t fit the norms of Farquaad’s perfect kingdom. It’s not that far off from real world situations.

Here’s an example of how much beauty means in this world–in the beginning of the movie Farquaad uses a magic mirror and is given a list of several princesses to choose from to make into a queen. One of those princesses is Snow White, who later shows up in Shrek’s swamp, exiled with the dwarfs. This sends the message that if magic can help him obtain a beautiful wife, then he’s fine with it. It’s only the “undesirable” fairytale creatures that we see Farquaad hates. Throughout the movie we think that Farquaad hates fairytale creatures, but he doesn’t. He hates the fairytale creatures that don’t match up to his obsessive standards of beauty.

It’s almost no wonder that in this world, Fiona would be desperate to become someone who wasn’t ostracized, or excluded. Fiona’s sole reason for getting married is that she wants to fit into society.

Fiona’s been raised on traditional fairytales, on handsome princes rescuing fair maidens from curses. Her parents stuck her in a tower for almost all of her life, keeping her from realizing that, just maybe, being an ogre isn’t the worst thing in the world. Fiona’s strong and capable, but she’s also been extremely sheltered. She’s constantly been taught that being anything other than the princess in the traditional fairytales is wrong, and she’s never seen examples to prove otherwise.

That’s why when Shrek walks into her life, she starts to come out of her shell. Here is someone different from society, someone like her, and he’s kind and warm (to her, at least). He’s not even lacking in companionship–he’s got Donkey for a friend. With Shrek, Fiona slowly begins to realize that it’s okay to be an ogre.

Princess Fiona and Shrek

Still, Fiona’s self-loathing over her ogre self goes extremely deep. When she confesses that she’s an ogre to Donkey, she says that no one would want to marry a beast like her. Shrek overhears this, and believes she’s talking about him. When he confronts her about it, and throws her words back in her face, she immediately assumes he’s talking about her. Fiona has overheard Shrek make comments about his identity as an ogre and the issues that come with it, so it wouldn’t be a huge leap for her to consider the possibility that Shrek overheard her and thought she was talking about him. But Fiona’s self loathing runs so deep that she doesn’t even consider the possibility.

Ironically, Fiona doesn’t even seem to focus on the fact that if Shrek is rejecting her, he’s also rejecting himself. After all, he’s an ogre just like her. But, again, she loathes herself so much that she doesn’t even think of that.

Fiona’s marriage to Farquaad is, even from the beginning, one of desperation, not love. She wants to love him because she wants to believe that his kiss will break her spell. When she later realizes that he’s a jerk, she still goes along with the marriage because she wants to have the curse removed. It’s been so ground into her that being different is horrible, that she believes, even though she doesn’t love Farquaad, the kiss of someone “normal” will make her better.

In the short amount of time that we see Fiona engaged to Farquaad, we see that she loses a lot of the character traits that she shows throughout the movie. She reverts back to the eloquent talk that she had in the beginning; she passively sits around waiting for the wedding to start; and she doesn’t speak up for herself, even though she’s clearly miserable. By reverting to the expectations society has for her, she’s “normal” but unhappy.

That’s why the climax of the story, where Fiona reveals that she’s an ogre, is so powerful. By revealing herself to Shrek as an ogre she’s saying that she can’t let him love her, if he can’t love all of her.

Shrek and Princess Fiona

It’s symbolic that Fiona’s ogre self, the self that has been rejected by society, is Love’s True Form. It doesn’t match up to society’s standards (which makes sense, because society’s standards told her to marry the heartless Farquaad), but it’s the best version of Fiona.

Fiona’s rejection of Farquaad’s marriage proposal is a rejection of the conventional life she’s been taught to want. When Fiona accepts Shrek’s love, she also accepts herself. By Fiona embracing Love’s True Form, she embraces the life that she secretly wants–a life as the best, truest version of herself, no longer in hiding.

Megan Wright is a TV reviewer and co-editor for Watch It Rae! She can be found glued to her computer blogging about her favorite TV shows, movies and books.

Wedding Week: Why We All Need to See ‘Bridesmaids’

Movie poster for Bridesmaids
This guest post by Molly McCaffrey previously appeared at her blog I Will Not Diet and is cross-posted with permission. 
I keep hearing people say they aren’t going to watch Bridesmaids because it’s a rom-com or a chick flick, and since this is really an important movie for women, I want to tell you why it’s not either of those things and why you need to see it.
Maya Rudolph and Kristen Wiig exercising in Bridesmaids
1. First and foremost, this is not a rom-com. Yes, this movie is a comedy, but it’s not a rom-com because those movies put the romance first (and it’s usually cheesy, unbelievable romance) and the comedy second. Notice that the word “rom” comes before the word “com”? That’s because the rom is center stage, and in Bridesmaids, comedy definitely trumps romance. (By the way, women don’t exercise in a rom-com; they just look perfect without trying.) Also, this movie is not a rom-com or a chick flick because the main plot of the story is not about a woman who would only be happy if she could just find the right guy, which brings me to my next point … 
Drinks, pre-food poisoning, in Bridesmaids
2. No, this is a movie about … wait for it … female friendship. I know what you’re thinking—a movie about female friendship? I’ve never heard of such a thing. Well, there was Thelma and Louise, but that was like a million years ago. Yes, that’s my point. It’s been WAY TOO LONG since we’ve had a movie about female friendship, which is why people are saying … 
3. This film is the first of a new genre. Perhaps you’ve heard of the bromance? Well, Bridesmaids is supposed to do for women what Wedding Crashers did for men. This new genre still doesn’t have a name—“sismance” and “wom-ance” just don’t sound quite right, and if you come up with a clever moniker (maybe “broad-mance”?), I’m sure you could make millions doing so.
Bridesmaids karaoke
4. And because this is a movie about female friendship, it passes the Bechdel Test, which asks: 1) Are there two named female characters in the film? There are SIX in this movie. 2) Do they talk to each other? Yes, they do. 3) About something besides men? Absolutely. I don’t have the exact numbers, but I would venture to guess that about 90% of the movies made in Hollywood do not pass this test, reinforcing the wrong-headed notion that women are only in the world to be accessories to funny male comedians or hot male action stars. In other words, that women are defined by men. And guess what? We’re not.
Kristen Wiig in Bridesmaids
5. It’s also the first Hollywood movie in a long time about a woman who is not played by an A-list actress. This may seem like no big deal at first, but when you think about it, it really is. The reason that most movies about women have to feature A-list actresses is because the people in Hollywood think good stories about women aren’t interesting enough to make us want to see them on their own and that they need something else—like Julia Roberts or Reese Witherspoon or Angelina Jolie—to get us in the seats of the theater. But we know that’s not true, and by giving Kristen Wiig and Maya Rudolph the leading roles in this movie, the powers-that-be are also giving us a chance to prove that. And because they are played by “regular” actresses … 
The ladies of Bridesmaids
6. Bridesmaids features women who look like women in real life, which is almost unheard of in Hollywood movies these days. Kristen Wiig, as beautiful as she is, also looks her age in this film. She has wrinkles and bags under her eyes and doesn’t dress like she just stepped out of a Prada boutique. Maya Rudolph looks adorable, but she also doesn’t look stick thin. Nor does Wendi McLendon-Covey or Melissa McCarthy. Yes, three of the women in this bridal party are Hollywood thin, but three are not. And three out of six really ain’t bad. And the fact that we get this range of curvy bodies—from Rudolph to McLendon-Covey to McCarthy is really unbelievably impressive since normally Hollywood only features the two extremes of big and small with no in-between. Not only do the women in Bridesmaids look real … 
A sweaty Kristen Wiig in Bridesmaids
7. Like real-life women, they talk about sex … If Sex and the City was important because it showed women talking about sex in raunchy ways that we had previously only associated with men, Bridesmaids is important because it shows them talking about it—and acting on it—in believable ways. Now that we’ve experienced Samantha Jones (and thank God we did), we can have authenticity, which is what you’ll find when Wiig and Rudolph discuss sex over breakfast, a scene that reads like an homage to the post-coitus brunch that was a staple of Sex and the City.

8. They also talk like real-life women. Like the rest of us, they talk about everything in life … they talk about their jobs, their life choices, their regrets, their bodies, their friendships, other women, their hopes and dreams, and, yes, their clothes and even sometimes men. But they don’t ONLY talk about men, which is crucial.

Kristen Wiig’s airplane freakout in Bridesmaids
9. And, for me, the most important thing is that these woman are well-rounded characters who have personalities and genuine flaws. And, no, I’m not talking about their bodies. I’m talking about the fact that these characters sometimes make the wrong decisions about their friendships, their jobs, their roommates, their lives, and as a result, the audience can’t help but feel for them while also wanting to kick their butts. Kristen Wiig’s character goes through the same kinds of ordeals we all go through—the kind that make us question who we are and what life is about. And her struggles are so frustrating and so moving that I found myself actually sobbing through the middle of the movie. The crazy thing about it is that while I was sobbing, I also started laughing. I’ve laughed and cried in a movie, but I’ve never before done both at the same time, and I did both while watching this movie more than once. I always tell my students that over-the-top comedy only works if it is paired with real, honest emotion, and my response proves that is something Bridesmaids does really well.
Annie Mumolo and Kristen Wiig in Bridesmaids
10. Finally, this movie was written by two women, Kristen Wiig and her former Groundlings castmate Annie Mumolo (pictured above). As we all know, there are not nearly enough women in Hollywood, so we need to support them as much as we can.

So what are you waiting for?

Molly McCaffrey is the author of the short story collection How to Survive Graduate School & Other Disasters, the co-editor of Commutability: Stories about the Journey from Here to There, and the founder of I Will Not Diet, a blog devoted to healthy living and body acceptance. She has worked with Academy Award winner Barbara Kopple and received her Ph.D. from the University of Cincinnati. Currently she teaches at Western Kentucky University and designs books for Steel Toe Books. She is at work on her first memoir, You Belong to Us, which tells the story of McCaffrey meeting her biological family.

Wedding Week: ‘Bride Wars’: When Weddings Drive a Bitch Crazy

This is a guest post by Alisande Fitzsimons.

In Gary Winick’s 2009 film Bride Wars, two best friends pit themselves against each other in order to both have their dream wedding day. If this thoroughly unfeminist – not to mention unlikely – premise doesn’t put you off then pull on your spanx, pin up your hair, and settle in to enjoy some fun so light and frothy it may as well be a specially designed valium-laced cupcake.

It pains me to state that a rare successful Hollywood film featuring a rare two female leads (Kate Hudson and Anne Hathaway) orientates itself around the wedding industry, an industry that feeds on female insecurity, causing otherwise sane and sensible women to spend a fortune on a single day in a quest for a level of perfection that probably only exists on cinema screens.

Best friends turned worst enemies

It also pains me to admit that the film is a firm favourite of mine because the lunacy that is fused to its girliness means it fits very well into that hallowed space known as “comfort movie.” Feel free to judge. I know you have one too.

Written by the female comedy duo Casey Wilson and June Diane Raphael, Bride Wars can be read as a much lighter companion piece to Kristen Wiig’s infinitely dirtier Bridesmaids, were Wiig’s depiction of how women behave when their closest friendship is self-immolating not far more realistic (yes, I do include the part where she hallucinates on the plane) and – let’s be real – funnier.

Bride Wars depicts both its brides – friends since childhood – as beautiful, successful in their careers and in stable relationships. It also depicts their descent into venomous harpies when it emerges that their wedding planner (a dignified and ice-cool Candace Bushnell) has booked both of their weddings to take place at Manhattan’s Plaza Hotel on the same day.

The Plaza, we understand, has been both of the women’s dream venue since childhood visits with their mothers, who were also BFFs. This may be a side issue but, realistically, how many women’s best childhood friend remains their closest friend into adulthood, particularly when they became friends because of their mothers’ friendship?

Also, how realistic is it that both of these women would remain fixated on the goddamn Plaza from the age of six through twenty-six? Yes, the Palm Court is divine but I maintain that at some point at least one of them – probably Hathaway whose character Emma is a teacher – would have looked round and said, “You know? I don’t think it really is worth the money.”

Liv in Vera Wang

Bride Wars, then, is a film about madness. Emma and Liv (Hudson) are arguably experiencing a folie a deux bought on by that well-known contagious disease, wedding fever. Since before the Great Depression there have been studies showing that even in times of dire need, people in the West will still spend the equivalent of a down payment on a home on their weddings. Tell me that’s not crazy.

Bride Wars is a film that aims to capture its audience, which I think we can take for granted is made up entirely of women, by highlighting the worst side of what Hollywood likes to depict as the nature of women. Rather than solving their planner’s error in a dignified, or even organized way, the brides turn on each other, exploiting each other’s vulnerabilities and weaknesses in ways that only a former ally ever can.

And though it’s amusing to watch the pair go at each other in increasingly underhanded ways – a dye job gone brutally wrong, a fake tan turned neon, deliveries of cakes and sweets causing one bride to gain so much weight that she can no longer fit into her bridal gown, a Bachelorette crashed and dance-off performed – there is also the fact that these acts have consequences so far-reaching that it’s hard to imagine the pair hugging out at the end of the film (which, of course, they do).

Liv’s dress, for example, was by Vera Wang, meaning it probably cost in the region of $25,000. That’s a lot of money to make a former friend waste. The bad dye job turned her locks blue, causing a disastrous day at work that very nearly costs her the job that’s paying for that fancy frock and, one suspects, her wedding as her fiancé is shown to earn less money than her.

But worse than all of this is the fact that, while the women go at each other like thirteen-year-olds with enough money to act out their most schadenfreude-filled fantasies, the men in it are doing nothing. Not strictly nothing. Both the grooms have jobs and seem like OK dudes, but neither of them is running around the city in a vengeful huff because his soon-to-be-wife’s former-bestie is trying to best their wedding day and destroy his woman’s life.

The madness at work

No, in Bride Wars that brand of madness is entirely female. This says nothing good or particularly realistic about the state of mind of the modern adult female. I mean, yes, we get hurt and pissed off when our friends do something that seems designed to cause pain to us, but how many of us who are not mentally ill follow them around, actively trying to ruin one of the most significant and expensive days of their lives?

For one thing, who would have time, especially if they were trying to plan the happiest day of their own lives at the same time?

So, once again, even though I doubt the writers were trying to make a serious point about how the pressure and expectations of the wedding industry can direly affect women’s mental states, I think the film is about mental illness. You decide.

Alisande Fitzsimons is a writer and stylist from Dublin. She can be found tweeting about weddings and clothes @AlisandeF.

Wedding Week: Another Indie Wedding…And Breakup in ‘Save the Date’

Written by Rachel Redfern
Lizzy Caplan and cat in Save the Date
Wanted: Emotionally unavailable girl struggling to realize her romantic potential. 

If that is what you’re looking for then Save the Date is here to realize such a fantasy. This is Michael Mohan’s sophomore film (One Too Many Mornings being the first), and it’s a solid second movie with great actors and a timely story.

Lizzy (Lizzy Caplan) just moved in with her boyfriend Kevin (Geoffrey Arend) of two years. One week later, he proposes; she freaks, then moves out, and it’s from there that the evolution of her relationships begin. During this time period, her sister Beth (Alison Brie) and her fiancé and band mate to Kevin, Andrew (Martin Starr), also travel the tricky waters that run to the great waterfall of marriage.

Thematically, the film focuses on the two men in Lizzy’s life, her ex Kevin, and her new boyfriend Jonathon (Mark Webber), and her obvious patterns of relationships; Save the Date is essentially a character study of one woman and her neuroses and the constant mistakes, fears, and decisions that she does manage to get right. She’s not always a completely sympathetic character, but she is still the one we’re rooting for at the end of the day.

This is the second time I’ve seen Lizzy Caplan in her easy portrayal of the emotionally damaged wild child, the first being in Bachelorette where similarly, the wedding brings up all of her feelings about past relationships and a surprise pregnancy. It’s a character I like, one that while not original, is also not the most common of characters (similar to Natalie Portman in Friends With Benefits, Charlize Theron in Sweet November). But I like the character; it’s one where, rather than neurotic, and desperately searching for love and marriage, she’s the opposite–skittish and non-committal, frustrating and sexy.

Caplan is obviously comfortable with the role and slips into emotionally distant behavior with an alacrity that is almost cringe-worthy. However, I think it’s valuable to see women and men in some role reversal; in Save the Date, Kevin is over-eager and anxious to please, while Lizzy barrels around, being incredibly sadly charming and then pulling away from relationships. 

Allison Brie and Martin Starr in Save the Date
Allison Brie is also lovely in her role as the more traditional, over-bearing sister. She’s impatient and snappy and obviously stressed about her wedding plans but also deeply invested in her sister. In fact, Save the Date removes many of the external friends for the two women and instead has the focus on the balance of their sibling relationship

It’s also productive that the film doesn’t attempt to explain away why Lizzy is so scared of relationships and why her sister is so excited to take hers to the next level. Rather, the two women are presented as flawed characters who just are who they are. Granted, the ending of the film seemed more focused on fixing Lizzy rather than on her own personal growth, but that’s perhaps a plot flaw more than anything.

And on that note, the plot is incredibly simple and slow. The conflict and resolution was easily anticipated and lacked any originality, even the present felt familiar. The film is very much in the ridiculously popular indie style, a style that I have to confess is starting to get a little old with its careful mullets, obscure acoustic tracks, and an ironic attempt to not take themselves too seriously but usually failing. 

Lizzy Caplan and Allison Brie in Save the Date
However, go to this film (or rent it at this point since it’s out on DVD) for the very familiar situations you’ll see, especially of note, Arend’s portryal of Kevin and his struggles with losing Lizzy. Often, romance films pit a “good guy” against a “complete and total lying, cheating bastard,” role that rarely allows for nuance and the complexities and context that accompany our mistakes. Instead, Kevin, Andrew and Jonathon are all different, but likable and sincere. They act like the adults I know, occasionally silly and naive when it comes to love but genuine in their attempts to do the right thing.

Lizzy and Beth as sisters get along perhaps a little too well for a normal sister relationship, but they’re also self-aware of their flaws and apologetic when they cross the line. Sometimes romantic comedies have a tendency to be over-the-top in their caricature of love, so much so that character interactions become excessively unrealistic. Save the Date re-captures some of its lost points for the slow plot with its commitment to showing more realistic interactions between couples and family.

But seriously, no more mullets in indie films. 

 


Rachel Redfern has an MA in English literature, where she conducted research on modern American literature and film and its intersection; however, she spends most of her time watching HBO shows, traveling, and blogging and reading about feminism.

Wedding Week: The Top Hollywood Wedding Scenes

This is a guest post by Marcela de Vivo.
Weddings in the movies and in television always seem to be more elaborate than those we experience in reality. Fictional characters with traditionally low-paying jobs somehow find a way to have a wedding that would cost literally a million dollars in the real world. They’re often over-the-top with hundreds of guests, extravagant meals and elaborate ice sculptures–you know, fluff.
Wedding scenes on the big screen are a fantasy of what viewers would want if we had unlimited funds. But we don’t, so watching these top wedding scenes will have to do! 
Movie still from the wedding scene in The Princess Bride
The Princess Bride
Princess Buttercup may not have wanted to marry Prince Humperdink, but that doesn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate the fairy tale ambiance of her wedding. Flowers and candlelight decorated the large church, which was filled with the richest, most powerful wedding guests in the land. As Buttercup hoped the rebellion outside the doors was on her behalf, the most memorable priest in movie history spoke about the joy of “maawwaaage.”
The wedding itself didn’t end too well for many of the characters, but all-in-all, it was a memorable wedding.
Movie still from the wedding scene in The Godfather
The Godfather
The father of the bride traditionally feels obligated to grant favors on the day of his daughter’s wedding, at least according to Marlon Brando’s character, Vito Corleone. Apparently, that extends to the bride herself.
Corleone’s daughter is known to have one of the most extravagant weddings in movie history, with a large tent and vivacious celebration with singing, dancing and plenty of alcohol. The best part of all was having the entire family together to celebrate–after that enormous cake, of course. 
Movie still from the wedding scene in Bridesmaids
Bridesmaids
Lillian may not have been the main character, but when it came to her wedding, she was truly the star. Despite a case of terrible food poisoning, a disaster bachelorette party and temporarily losing her best friend and maid of honor, Lillian’s wedding was indeed spectacular, complete with a waterfront setting, designer wedding dress and colorful strobe lighting–something we could all admit to be somewhat jealous of.
The kicker was the entertainment: a surprise performance by Lillian’s favorite childhood band, Wilson Phillips. And best of all, she had all of her best friends by her side. 
Movie still from the wedding scene in My Big Fat Greek Wedding
My Big Fat Greek Wedding
Sometimes family can complicate what should be the best day of a person’s life. For Toula, the days leading up to her wedding were difficult due to her incredibly traditional family. But when it came to the day of the wedding, it seemed like the universe was doing its best to ruin everything.
It was Toula’s family, as big and loud as they were, that made the day so special. Toula’s parents finally accepted her new husband and even gave her a house as a wedding gift (an entire house!). This is one movie wedding that goes to show that it doesn’t take perfection to have a perfect wedding.
Movie still from the wedding scene in The Graduate
The Graduate
One of the most iconic wedding scenes in movie history is also one of the least successful. Although the church wedding was nearly empty, the bride, Elaine, looked beautiful in her classic white wedding gown–at least Benjamin Braddock thought so. Unfortunately for Ben, he wasn’t the groom, but that didn’t stop him from whisking away the bride!
Ultimately, Elaine and Benjamin run off together, just minutes after she says, “I do.” Sure, there was a brawl, and the bride and groom didn’t stay together for longer than 5 minutes, but at least it was memorable.
We might not always get the perfect wedding of our dreams, with the fancy sculptures, favors, gift bags and decorations, but at least we can appreciate and treasure what marriage is actually about more than these films do.

Marcela De Vivo is a freelance writer from California whose writing covers everything on health, travel, gaming and technology. Watching these films really reminds her of what marriage truly involves and the value of family. Follow her on Facebook and Twitter today!

Wedding Week: Do or Do Not

This is a guest post by Emily Campbell.
Here’s some sobering news: if you’re not a U.S. citizen, same-sex marriage isn’t going to score you a green card. And, unless you can make sense of immigration legalese and have overwhelming amounts of luck on your side, seeking asylum as an LGBT individual probably isn’t either.
Sure, you can marry your spouse in some states and everything is perfectly legal, but good luck getting them a green card or permanent residency because surprise! The federal government says no. State-federal alignment, what state-federal alignment? And you can totally apply for asylum, but first you have to prove you’re queer enough, that you’re in danger of being persecuted for being queer in your country of origin, and you have to do this within a year of arriving in the U.S. or it’s straight to deportation.
I’d been reading about cheerful things like the obstacles faced by LGBT asylum seekers and all the creative ways U.S. immigration law manages to avoid actually granting asylum when I first heard of I Do. An indie film bearing the vaguely ominous tagline “Two words can change everything” and promises of a plot centered on a playing-it-straight green card marriage, it sounded right up my alley. According to director Glenn Gaylord:
The film touches upon some very profound issues of our time, the Defense of Marriage Act, and how even though gay people can get married in certain states in this country, immigration is a federal right. So even if a gay person legally marries someone, it doesn’t grant citizenship, because of DOMA. All told, despite its hot-button topicality, this is the very human story about a man who has to decide whose life he’s living. 

Movie poster for I Do
Intense, right? Essentially, my first thought was “I need to see this yesterday.”
I Do kicks off with some narration from our humble protagonist, Jack (David W. Ross): “I do believe in fate. I do believe in family. I believe in telling the truth and that your actions have consequences.”
Please note the strategic repetition of “I do.”
Jack’s life is kind of tragic. He’s a transplant from England who’s been living in the U.S. since he was 17 and (spoiler) his brother bites it within the first five minutes of the movie. This happens right after said bro announces over dinner that his wife Mya (Alicia Witt) is pregnant, and isn’t that a wonder since he only married her for a green card. There’s always that one family member making really tasteless jokes at the table. Jack politely congratulates him anyway, then politely bears it when his bro talks about sometimes wishing he were gay because–get this–those intrepid bohemian homosexuals have no responsibilities or ordained path, and he feels like he’s conforming to societal norms by being married and having a kid. Right, then.
We fast-forward a few years, and Jack’s doing all right for himself. He works as a photographer’s assistant and fills his off hours by being the greatest gay uncle ever for Mya’s preposterously sweet daughter and the greatest BFF ever to his coworker Ali (Jamie-Lynn Sigler), who also happens to be a lesbian. Then things get sticky when Jack’s work visa is denied. The explanation? Everything’s harder since September 11, which means he can’t just renew his visa. Instead, he has to go back to England and begin the whole process again, and even then he might not be eligible for another since he has a denial on his record. Leaving his life in New York to wait things out in England is just plain out of the question, as is remaining in the U.S. illegally and risking deportation.
Jack (David W. Ross) and Aly (Jamie-Lynn Sigler) bonding and providing some equal-opportunity objectification

But, his lawyer conspiratorially tells him, he can still get his hands on a green card if he marries. A woman. And he has just two months to figure out what to do.
Fortunately for Jack, Ali’s girlfriend recently dumped her and made her move out, leaving her newly single and with nowhere to live.
Enter fake marriage. Don’t ask why Ali goes along with it so readily; I’m not sure either. But it means we get to see her being quietly conflicted about helping a friend and potentially going to federal prison for it, which entails lots of lingering shots of her doe-eyed, adorably accessorized visage. So there’s that.
Jamie-Lynn Sigler as Ali in I Do
And this is where the real problem comes in. We’re clearly supposed to feel bad for Jack’s plight and the DOMA-fueled injustice being heaped on him. But as things escalate and Jack suddenly falls for Spanish architect Mano (Maurice Compte), the casual viewer is more likely to feel bad for Ali, who has to deal with him gallivanting all over the place and not even trying to make their relationship seem remotely realistic. Her future is on the line right along with Jack’s, but Jack never seems to have an inkling of just how big of a risk they’re taking for his sake.
There’s also the fact that the chemistry between Jack and the newfound love of his life is anemic at best, but we’re supposed to believe it exists for the sake of a plot point. And while this could just be my own personal bias about what constitutes romance and what constitutes creepy, Mano showing up (unannounced and unsolicited) with coffee and changes of clothes for Jack and Mya while they’re staying the night in a hospital reads as more of the latter than the former. Especially considering Jack and Mano have met all of twice at this point.
Mano is also sketching their future dream home by the third date and promising to go to England with Jack if he gets deported. And he happens to conveniently be an American citizen. However, as Jack’s lawyer points out, Manu can marry Jack legally in New York and it still won’t make a difference since immigration is a federal issue. In case those of us following along at home missed anything, she spells it out for them and says point blank that they don’t have the same rights as a straight couple.
Ali, meanwhile, is petrified of going to prison for being Jack’s fake wife. Then immigration officers show up while Jack is out with Mano generally being the worst fake husband ever even though their relationship is weirdly unbelievable.
Okay, that’s not entirely true. There’s one scene where Mano tells Jack the scar on his chest is from when his father caught him in bed with a neighbor’s son, which has the potential to be very poignant. Or it would be if the theme of family being important hadn’t already been hammered home time and time again. And since the linchpin of Jack wanting to stay in the U.S. is his own adopted family of Mya and her daughter, this makes his eventual resolution incredibly jarring.
It all wraps up with another earnest monologue from Jack. “I believe in family. I believe in fate. I believe we should all have the freedom to love. I believe in love. I do.”
That said, there are bright spots amidst all the doom and despair. Alicia Witt is excellent as Mya, trying to make ends meet and move on with life, simultaneously loving Jack and hating him for being alive instead of her husband. And Mickey Cottrell is great as Jack’s mentor, Sam, who at one point confides in Jack that the only reason he ended up with his partner of 32 years was because he knew he was the one and went for it. But at the end of the day, I Do takes a hot-button issue and waters it down immensely. If you want an engrossing story about gay marriage beating the legal system, read about the awesome lesbian couple from Pakistan who took a vacation to the U.K., got married, and immediately filed for–and won–asylum there. Someone really needs to make a movie about that.
Emily Campbell is approximately three fifths finished with this cup of chai and five fifths finished with grad school. She has previously reviewed Cracks and War Witch for Bitch Flicks.

Wedding Week: ‘Coming to America’ and Coming to Terms with New Marriage Traditions

Coming to America movie poster.



Written by Leigh Kolb

When I was a kid, Coming to America was one of my favorite movies. I’m not quite sure exactly what it was–maybe I just thought Eddie Murphy was really cute–but I’d like to think that I was drawn to its message of valuing female intelligence and independence over subservience. 
Coming to America was released in 1988, and helped round out Eddie Murphy’s rise to stardom in the 1980s, from Saturday Night Live to Beverly Hills Cop. While Murphy played side-kicks in many of his early films, Coming to America was unique because it featured Murphy as a romantic lead, and a cast dominated by African Americans. 
The premise of the film–a wealthy African prince travels to America to live modestly and find true love, not an arranged marriage–isn’t particularly groundbreaking, but the film worked because it was (and is, sadly) rare to find a black man as a romantic lead, especially in a blockbuster-friendly romantic comedy.
The film begins by taking the audience over the sweeping landscape of the fictional African country of Zamunda, while a South African choir sings. As the camera focuses in on a palace, it’s important to note the stark contrast of this depiction of an African country against the frequent portrayals of Africa in American media, which showcase Africa as a continent in need of our saving (after all, they don’t even have snow at Christmas time). 
The royal family of Zamunda: Prince Akeem Joffer, King Jaffe Joffer and Queen Aeoleon.  
Prince Akeem (Murphy) wakes up on the morning of his birthday, and he’s attended to by male and female servants (from royal bathers–beautiful women who clean the “royal penis”–to royal wipers in the bathroom). Akeem doesn’t seem comfortable with any of this, and even requests to use the bathroom alone. At breakfast, his father, King Jaffe Joffer (James Earl Jones), assumes his son must be excited to meet the wife they’ve arranged for him to marry. 
Akeem acts unsure, and finally speaks out against being doted upon and the idea that a woman would be chosen for him for his rank, not because she loves him. The tradition of arranged marriage doesn’t sit well with him, and his youthful rebellion takes the form of wanting to fall in love with a woman on his own terms and to be able to be more independent.
Semmi (Arsenio Hall), Akeem’s friend and attendant, serves as a foil to Akeem’s noble goodness. He is baffled that Akeem wants a woman with an opinion instead of having a woman who would follow his every command. Semmi assures Akeem that his wife need only have a “pretty face.”
Akeem asks him, “So you’d share your bed with a beautiful fool?” Semmi says that that’s the tradition for men in power. Akeem says that it’s also tradition for times to change. 
While the film isn’t a bastion of female empowerment, feminist nuggets like that pop up throughout the film, which is always refreshing within the confines of the well-worn tropes in romantic comedies. 
Akeem asks Imani, his chosen wife-to-be, to speak privately, breaking tradition.
When Akeem is presented with the beautiful woman who is to be his wife, Imani (Vanessa Bell), he asks to talk to her privately. She proudly tells him, “Ever since I was born, I’ve been trained to serve you.” He pushes to find out more about her, her favorite music, food, anything. But all she says is that she likes what he likes and will obey him. He says, “Anything I say, you’ll do?” after she refuses to not obey him, which is what he wants. He tells her to bark like a dog, and she complies, making a fool of herself as he is convinced this is not the woman he will marry. 
The fact that she was “born to serve” this man isn’t an anomaly–in patriarchal cultures steeped in tradition, the idea that women should be indoctrinated to be subservient to men is endemic. (Just last week, a U.S. congressman suggested that young boys and girls have segregated classes to be taught gender norms.)
When Akeem pushes back to his father and tries to get out of the marriage, saying he’s not ready, the king assumes he means sex. “I always assumed you had sex with your bathers,” the father says. “I know I do.” Again, the king is presented as misogynistic and patriarchal, without considering that his son may be trying to break free. He allows Akeem to go and travel for 40 days, assuming he wants to “sow his wild oats,” and that he’ll come back and marry the bride they chose for him.
As they prepare to leave, Akeem tells Semmi that he plans to find a wife during his travels. “I want a woman who will arouse my intellect as well as my loins,” Akeem says. They decide to go to New York City, specifically Queens, because he assumes there’s no better place to find a queen.
Akeem is excited to be in Queens; Semmi is less than impressed.
It’s a priority to Akeem that no one knows he’s royalty. He wants them to stay in the most “common” part of Queens, and asks the landlord to choose the “poorest” apartment for them to rent. When a woman throws garbage out of her window, Akeem exclaims, “America is great indeed–imagine a country so free, one can throw glass on the street!” Observations on wealth and ethnocentrism are also peppered throughout the film.
The two drape themselves in New York sports teams jackets and hats, and are mesmerized by a commercial for Soul Glo. Akeem goes to the barber shop (a gathering place near their apartment, where Murphy and Hall both play other parts). He gets his long princely ponytail cut off. The barber is impressed with his natural hair, and Akeem says he’s never put chemicals in it, just “juices and berries.” Later, the barber would rant and rant when Akeem asks for a Jheri curl, touting the importance of keeping hair natural. Between that and the brief rant by a white Jewish man in the barber shop (played by Murphy) that a person should be able to choose his own name, important facets of African American history and identity are touched upon in the barber shop (which were often official gathering places during the civil rights movement). 
After a night of meeting women of various disaster levels, Akeem and Semmi end up at a Black Awareness Week rally (specifically, the Miss Black Awareness Pageant), where Akeem immediately becomes enamored with Lisa McDowell (Shari Headley), the organizer of the rally and daughter of Cleo McDowell, who owns McDowell’s (a small fast food restaurant that borrows a lot from McDonald’s). She takes the microphone to stress the importance of individual expression (somewhat belittling the pageant, even if tongue in cheek) and asks the crowd to donate to a park for children to be able to express themselves. Akeem puts a giant wad of cash in the collection basket, and the next morning, Akeem and Semmi show up at McDowell’s to get jobs.
Akeem learns how to mop, and tries to flirt with Lisa, who is hard at work on a computer in her office. Akeem clearly, and immediately, values a woman with a sense of identity and purpose beyond serving a man.
Soul Glo heir Darryl (Eriq La Salle) is Lisa’s boyfriend, and the audience immediately knows he’s an ass–he puts no money in the collection basket (and lets Lisa think he was responsible for the large donation), he buddies up to Cleo and is condescending toward Lisa. If Akeem was more like Darryl, or even Semmi, his life would have been easier–he could have simply married his chosen wife and followed in the footsteps of what’s expected of powerful, wealthy men because “tradition.” The film presents these men to be critical of how patriarchy works–or doesn’t–within a culture (or cultures). 
The film continues to present these entrenched ideas: “Is this an American girl? Go through her poppa… Get in good with the father, you’re home free,” the barber tells Akeem. “I don’t know how it is in Africa, but here rich guys get all the chicks,” says a McDowell’s clerk (played by Louie Anderson).
Akeem goes along to a basketball game with Lisa, Darryl and Lisa’s sister, Patrice, who is presented comically as shallow and very interested in sexual conquests and wealthy men, unlike the noble Lisa. Can’t have a romantic comedy without a little virgin/whore dichotomy action!
Darryl makes disparaging remarks to Akeem about being from Africa, commenting about how it must be weird to be wearing clothes, and asking if they play games like catch the monkey. Earlier, the landlord says to Akeem and Semmi that the apartments have an insect problem, “but you boys are from Africa so you’re probably used to that.” When characters reinforce the African savage stereotype, it’s clear that these characters are not good.
Akeem is a good friend to Lisa when Darryl is forceful and misogynistic.
And when characters act like women are to be subservient sexual objects without their own identities, it’s also clear that they are in the wrong. From the king’s bawdy suggestions and adherence to the tradition of submissive, chosen wives, to Darryl pressuring Lisa to quit her job (“My lady doesn’t have to work”) or announcing their engagement without asking her if she wants to marry him (he went through her father, after all), men who don’t respect women are not the good guys–they are the ones who need to change.
When Akeem stands up to a robber at McDowell’s (Samuel L. Jackson doing one of the things he does best–wielding a gun and saying “fucker” as many times as possible), Darryl makes light of the fact that he hid, and suggested that Akeem knew those moves from fighting “lions and tigers and shit.” He then says, “They might not admit it, but they [women] all want a man to take charge–to tell them what to do.” Akeem smiles at him, but knows that’s not true. 
Lisa’s affection for Akeem grows when he quotes Nietzsche and when he is a thoughtful, sensitive listener when she’s angry that Darryl steamrolls their engagement, which she refuses. 
“I’m fine,” she assures Akeem. “I’m just not going to be pressured into marriage by Darryl, my father, anybody.” Akeem says he understands, and that he doesn’t think anyone should get married out of obligation. 
When they go out to dinner, Lisa says how nice it is to be with a man who knows how to express himself and she insists on taking the paycheck. Lisa’s attraction to these stereotypically not-masculine traits serves as a reminder that there is value to these qualities in both men and women. 
Lisa is smart and independent, qualities Akeem isn’t supposed to want.
Cleo pressures Lisa to marry Darryl as he sees her drifting toward Akeem. “You only like him because he’s rich,” Lisa says. Cleo–who has positioned himself as the ultimate bootstraps-pulling American dream–tells her that he just doesn’t want her to struggle like he and her mother did. 
Akeem’s charade begins to unravel as his family arrives in Queens via motorcade. Cleo is elated that Akeem is actually a prince; Lisa is devastated that he’d lied to her (and the fact that the king told her Akeem was only sowing his “royal oats” in America before he got married). 
Akeem chases after Lisa, and begs her to marry him. He offers to renounce his throne, and explains that he only wanted someone to fall in love with him for who he is, not for his money or royalty. She hesitates, but refuses, and runs off.
Queen Aeoleon (Akeem’s mother, played by Madge Sinclair) begins pushing back against her husband, challenging him about how he knows Akeem doesn’t love Lisa, and that the arranged marriage is a “stupid tradition.” “Who am I to change it?” asks the king. “I thought you were the king,” she says. 
Back in Zamunda, a royal wedding has begun, and Akeem is waiting for his bride, looking resigned and sad. A bride in an enormous pink dress and veil walks down the aisle. When he lifts the veil from her face, Lisa’s face is smiling at him. He looks elated, and his parents are smiling (the queen’s logic reigned), and Cleo steps up to join the king and queen. 
Akeem is surprised that Lisa is under the veil.
As they ride off in a carriage among a crowd of cheering partygoers, Lisa asks if she would have really given all of this up for her. “Of course,” Akeem responds. “If you like, we can give it all up now.” She says, “Nah,” and they laugh, and live, I’m sure, happily ever after.

The plot is pretty predictable. Female subservience is challenged, but standards of female beauty aren’t. The characters aren’t remarkably complex, but their motives are clear and almost always understandable. That said, this is a romantic comedy. I don’t mean to demean the genre as a whole, but I think it’s safe to say most blockbuster romantic comedies are pretty damn problematic, so to have a romantic comedy that subverts the notion of valuing wives who are simply beautiful and submissive while featuring a predominantly black cast and depicting Africa positively, I’d say that’s a win. 
Lisa is OK with her royal title.

Leigh Kolb is a composition, literature and journalism instructor at a community college in rural Missouri.