Chick Flicks: don't you dare judge me

I’ll get right to the point: I love the movie genre known as “chick flicks” and I am man enough to admit it. Many people have asked me why it is that I enjoy chick flicks so much, and the answer is simple: I hate being surprised. Some people don’t like the predictability, and say instead that they would rather gamble their money away on a film they don’t know the ending to.
Why would I pay money to see a movie where I don’t already know the ending? What if I don’t like the ending? There goes nine dollars, an evening and some great popcorn, all because I wanted to see if the team in Friday Night Lights would win the big game.

They lost, and, that night, so did my soul.

Why would I go see that when I can see Moulin Rouge, a movie that we all knew the ending to while the opening credits were still rolling? Did anyone really think that the Nicole Kidman was about to leave Ewen McGregor behind for some rich tool? Of course not, and that’s the beauty of it, it teaches us that, no matter what, things just always work out, and even though she dies at the end, it’s from a mysterious disease that she hints at the ENTIRE movie, ensuring that viewers will not be thrown for a loop by the ending…well played Moulin Rouge.

Plus, when I imagine a movie about a 19th century prostitute who falls in love with a poet, I don’t see how it could go without the music of the 1970s, and, apparently, neither could the directors of Moulin Rouge. Always thinking what I’m thinking, just the way a chick flick should be.

And how about Twilight, a movie about a girl who falls in love with a vampire who, if I may say so, looked surprisingly handsome considering his favorite pastime is stalking the night and feeding on the living.

In real life, I have a strict no vampire policy, even if the vampire looked like a scientific cross between Jessica Alba and Carrie Underwood. Something about trying to be intimate with a girl who’s only way to kick back and relax is by taking sips of a substance that 9 out of 10 doctors agree keeps me alive (the other doctor didn’t write back to me) is a bit of a turn off for me.

Yet, in the movie, we knew nothing bad could happen, I mean it wasn’t like she was dying from a life threatening disease or anything (a vampire fetish doesn’t count…I looked it up).

Now, I will give you this, sometimes chick flicks don’t exactly do their job, an idea justified by the creation of the monstrosity of a film known as Titanic. Oh yeah, they were doing fine up until the ending, when the boy who is supposed to get back with the girl fails to do so because of one creative liberty taken by the filmmakers: he dies, and not even in a predictable way like Moulin Rouge. He just drowns, taking my hopes and dreams with him.

What is this supposed to teach me about the world, that true love can’t survive a boating accident? That’s the most depressing thing I’ve ever heard in my life. Shame on you Titanic, if it hadn’t been for Drew Barrymore in Never Been Kissed I may never have believed in true love again.

But even beyond that, I am perplexed, nay, utterly fascinated by a chick flick’s ability to turn even the creepiest, stalker-esc acts into a totally socially acceptable venture. If I stood outside of an ex-girlfriend’s house hoisting a boom box playing Peter Gabriel’s “Your Eyes,” the Minnetonka Police would come, taze me, arrest me, and I’d still be doing time upstate. Yet, there’s just a social acceptance in chick flicks that make moves like this one from Say Anything totally okay.

A young writer I know, Mr. Bill Gregg, has reviewed what is sure to be the next American classic, The Hannah Montana Movie. I haven’t seen this movie yet, but I already know what my reaction will be to it: a standing ovation. Any movie with witty cowboy banter, a life altering lesson that you can see coming a mile away and, most of all, the assurance of an ending that in no way surprises viewers, is a movie sure to make it’s way safely into my heart…I’m just keeping my fingers crossed for some 1970s music.