I HATE MYSELF FOR LOVING YOU

So, guilty pleasures, they're something that everyone has: Things that you know are bad but you like them anyway. Whether it's a bad action movie or a vapid reality TV show or cheesy romance novel, there's just no accounting for taste sometimes. I'm going post some of my guilty pleasures and why I like them (and why I shouldn't) in the hopes that others will too. So, to the two people who follow this blog: You're ON NOTICE. And please don't make fun of me for some of this.

(Quick note before I start: Guilty pleasures entail that you like the thing entirely unironically, it has to receive the response it seeks from you. Thus, I'm not going to put stuff like Bad Boys 2 on this list because I'm laughing at that movie, not with it.)

Crank: It's pretty much everything I'm against socially in movie form: it's sexist and racist and homophobic and generally reeks of a sort of frat boy, "let's get drunk and laid", nihilism. Add that to the fact that they're are people who take this movie way too friggin' seriously (i.e. seriously at all) and that the action scenes aren't particularly well-staged (it suffers from the all-too-common problem of too many fast cuts in many modern action movies), except for a couple of good gags (the guy falling off of the fire escape, for example), and this movie should be awful, right? Well, there are two things that make this movie work at all: 1) The Statham, 'nuff said. 2) The fact that the filmmakers are just trying to keep topping themselves in terms of out-there insanity. I mean, really, what is there to say about a movie where a guy driving a car through a mall is the least ridiculous thing? In terms of sheer "WTF?"-factor Crank has basically any movie this side of Asia beat. It's also got a certain sense of humour about itself and I love the wild, free-wheeling visual style that incorporates pretty much every little filmic trick in the book to enhance the crazy plot. It's the Annie Hall of action films, in that way. Crank is pretty-much just a teenage male fantasy brought to life but it'll hold anyone's attention in a social setting (if only because they're so offended) and it's probably the purest "guy movie" out there. Still, unless you're of a particular mindset (read: full of testosterone), you're not gonna like this and you basically don't want your wife, girlfriend or mom to know that this movie even exists.

The Notebook: Now, let's take a trip to the exact opposite end of the estrogen-testosterone scale with this movie, an adaptation of a novel by Nicholas Sparks (more on him in a bit) that is probably the most direly cheesy and melodramatic romance you'll ever see. In fact, words like "melodramatic" don't even begin to describe The Notebook; we need to invent new terms just for this movie. But, as I've said before, I'm a sucker for this type of over-the-top melodrama when it comes to romance and I'll admit I caught up in this one. Actually, it's sort of odd because I resisted it for a long time just based on the poster (because, well, yeah) and a plot synopsis. Also, the reviews weren't great. But, in one of those weird coincidences that happens sometimes, I was clicking around the dial one day and stopped to watch for a minute (mostly due to the costume design) without knowing exactly what it was. Before I knew it, I was, against all of my masculinity and better judgement, absorbed into this story. It's bad on any rational level (the characters are cliched, the plot progression doesn't make logical sense, everything is exaggerated to the point of hyper-reality), and a lot of the characters' actions exist in this romantic-in-theory-but-would-be-pathetic-in-real-life area that so many love stories inhabit (the scene where Ryan Gosling hangs off the Ferris Wheel bar to ask Racheal McAdams on a date is particularly eye-rolling). Still, there's a sort of undeniable pull that this movie holds for me; the variety of hyper-cheesy romance pushed here trumps the more-"realistic" fare of, say, He's Just Not That Into You (hi, Lana!) for me because I'd rather be enraptured in a fantasy that allows me to forget about my troubles for a while than have to deal with a more bitter story that makes me, to some extent, confront my issues (exceptions when said relative realism is extremely well-written as in Annie Hall or Say Anything). Also, it's very well-directed with excellent production/costume design and well-acted, for this type of material, to boot. And we all need to indulge our stupid romantic fantasies sometimes, right?



Every Nicholas Sparks novel that I've read except A Walk to Remember: Sparks is really bad writer; I mean that, he's really terrible. He doesn't have a feel for natural speech, he's extremely melodramatic and he repeats himself an awful lot if you read more than one of his books. However, his utterly overblown romantic stories touch a nerve for me (and, clearly, a lot of other people because he sells a lot of copies). They're perfect to lose yourself in if you're feeling bad and, as overblown as his descriptions are, I'm willing to forgive him because he's clearly working on more on an emotional level than anything else. And, if nothing else, he's a master of emotional manipulation, that or I'm easy. But when he wants me to feel sad, I feel sad, when he wants me to feel all warm and fuzzy, I feel all warm and fuzzy. I haven't read the book of The Notebook (I figure it's redundant given that I saw the movie) or Nights In Rodanthe (mostly because I thought that the movie of it looked awful) but otherwise, I have an unnatural love for his stuff. With the exception of A Walk to Remember, that is; I didn't like that one mostly because of the overbearing Christian message of it, which was sort of disappointing because the premise wasn't awful but, I dunno, it just didn't work for me.

There are lots of other things I could put on here but those will suffice for now. Perhaps this will be a running feature on here, who knows.