Attack of the Chick Flick

When it comes to watching TV, I'll often give my girlfriend free-reign to watch whatever she chooses (which, incidentally, is why I ended up writing a piece on "Bridezillas"). It's not so much an act of chivalry but more of apathy. I only actively watch a handful of programs out of the hundreds presented every week. Everything else on TV is open to suggestion. But after seeing Because I Said So, I may have to rethink my policy on not offering input*.

*In all fairness, my girlfriend never saw the movie before. I don't know her opinion of it but she didn't exactly offer up any synonym for "good" after it was over.

Above: Diane and Mandy. Not Pictured: That thing they're about to trip over.

I'm not going to brandish about this false front of machismo and denounce the entire genre of films directed towards the relationship-minded female audience. I can see a chick flick without feeling like I'm going to suddenly menstruate. But to call Because I Said So a "chick flick" is an insult to legitimate films with that label. I should have called this entry, "Attack of the Horrible Flick". The fact that I saw most of this film left me with night-terrors and bad dreams about middle-aged women falling into cakes.

Diane Keaton plays a businesswoman and mother of three grown girls, the youngest of whom has relationship troubles, and worse still, is played by Mandy Moore. Keaton's character intervenes by placing a personal ad (in ALL CAPS - the horror) to set-up a ruse so that Mandy Moore can fall in love and be married, because that's the only way an otherwise successful 22-year old can have a happy and worthwhile life. Cue the montage of social defects.

The movie went from "bad" to "unbelievably horrendous" around the point when Diane Keaton accidentally calls up loud, hardcore porn on the internet. She's understandably flustered when she hears the grunts and groans emanating from the only website that offers the goods without any user input, while her dog humps an ottoman. When a comedy scene that was expected to manufacture the most laughs instead causes the audience to yell out, "Just turn off the speakers!" or "Unplug the computer, you dolt!", you know the rest of the movie is just going to make you question you decision to remain committed to it.

And just as I expected, the "humor" doesn't get any better. Diane Keaton gets hit with a cake and the dog gets a reaction shot. Diane Keaton falls down and the dog gets a reaction shot. Diane Keaton even gets into a physical fight with her car's GPS (the dog's in the car too in case you're worried they'd waste a precious reaction shot). Yes ladies, according to this movie, you have absolutely no grasp of modern technology and should immediately retire to an Amish community where you'll churn butter and marry the man with the nicest black felt hat.

Meanwhile, Mandy Moore's character (another walking slapstick tragedy) ends up dating two different men behind each of their backs. We're supposed to root for her, but if it were a man secretly dating two woman, he'd elicit nothing but scorn from the audience. Just because it's a chick flick doesn't mean I won't point out the double standards.

Oh and the scene where Mandy Moore's character tries to describe orgasms to her mother? I had to have the forks I jammed in my ears surgically removed.

There's a lot of therapy needed to "unsee" this movie. I've been doing the "poor man's electroshock" by chewing on a lamp cord with little success. Why did I even watch it? Was I that bored? Did I offer to stay with it because I thought it'd get better? There are so many movies with breasts or explosions (even exploding breasts) I could have watched in my head while Diane Keaton fell into yet another cake.

My hell is built with the hands at the end of my arm.