Ever Sleep In A Wine Cask?

The airplane was musty, and everyone around me was either senile or butt ugly. There was a women of middle age, opposite me who gave me eyes, and I gave her eyes back, I was too bored to refuse her flirtations. And besides she wasn't too bad looking for someone as old as oak. I would be so lucky to look like anything resembling her human face by the time my drug use catches up and decides to live in my skin. We got into conversation and she told me that her  boyfriend had ditched her and upgraded to first class, I chuckled and said 'Oh but we are on first class, so looks like he lost out' she patted by knee with a beaming smile, that made lots of wrinkles crawl out from under her nose and above her mouth. Which kind of turned me on. 

I arrived at my hotel which was wonderful, like something out of Asterix and Obelix, the rooms were made from four wine casks that had previously held 14, 500 liters of Beaujolais wine. Birthplace of the casks-a French chateau. I got a two-person room as my girlfriend was arriving tomorrow, but I had the room to myself tonight. Oh I forgot to mention where am I? I am in Stavoren, a quaint port town painted by the stories of the the mystical Lady of Syavoren .

That is the Lady of Stavoren from behind. I do not know anything about her because I am not a travel book kind of guy, but I wanted to take her back to the hotel room and get stoned with her, but I knew the authorities here were not to be messed with. So I was a good boy and went to a strip club instead where I met Mindy, an American who somehow ended up her in the land of clogs and windmills. She looked like Julia Roberts but not as ugly and without the onionskin.  She told me some story about owing someone money and hiding out for a bit. I just kept nodding, and then signaled to her that we should leave. So we left and went back to the Wine Cask. How I love saying that. But not before we got a few bottles of wine. Every time I was in the Wine Cask room I wanted to fill it with wine; imagine floating in wine, the sensations, the inebriation, the beautiful mermaids. My girlfriend arrived a little early and caught me with the Mindy, but we have an open relationship, so she joined in the morning sessions of casual sex and drugs. It got a bit boring after a while so I popped out for a milkshake in MacDonalds, tasted lovely, strawberry flavour I think. Overall it was a very nice trip.

Valentine's Day Film Advice

No form of mass media is immune to the crass, cynical commercialisation of anti-holiday Valentine’s Day, and cinema is no exception. Every year, Hollywood shits out a film or two to cash in on a day designed purposefully for cashing in. This year we have Just Go With It, which reviews have led me to believe consists of Jennifer Aniston (warning sign No. 1) pretending to be Adam Sandler’s (warning sign No.2) ex-wife or something for some nonsensical reason, with zany and ultimately sexy results. They, of course, fall for each other somewhere in the insanity. Admittedly, this is probably a step backwards (which in the overall scheme of things is, paradoxically, actually forwards) from last year’s clusterfuck – the ultimate Valentine’s Day movie, ambitiously and innovatively entitled Valentine’s Day. This film didn’t feature two idiots falling for each other for some reason never examined in anything resembling depth. It featured an ensemble cast of idiots falling for each other. Jennifer Aniston, Julia Roberts and Ashton Kutcher were involved, as they often are with this sort of thing.

The problem I have with this sort of thing – see also: any ‘rom-com’ starring Gerard Butler – is that they are demeaning the great cinematic genre of the romance film. Two assholes / simpletons declaring their love for each other in an airport – despite the fact five minutes earlier they hated each other, and the audience had no reason to believe otherwise – is not uplifting romance. It’s depressing. The rare time I’m tricked into watching this crap I emerge despondent. The generic rom-com is almost a better anti-aphrodisiac than Blue Valentine.

What boils my blood is that there are a tonne of genuinely romantic films out there, and yet Hollywood consistently tricks the paying public into ignoring them in favour of the latest Aniston vehicle. I’m far from a cynic when it comes to romance. I’ve seen Lost in Translation almost ten times since it was released, and the inaudible whisper and bittersweet parting that follows still hits me in the gut every time. The central relationship in that film is a perfect cinematic romance – two lost souls, finding each other for an all too brief moment in a foreign city. And guess what? They don’t even have sex.

 There’s a tonne of others. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind has an equally bittersweet ending, and yet is one of the defining relationship dramas of the last few decades. Through an innovative structure and two leads creating fully believable characters, Joel and Clementine are destined to keep ending up together. Before Sunrise is Richard Linklater’s wonderful ode to infatuation. He followed it up with Before Sunset, a reflective and moving portrayal of said infatuation colliding with reality a decade later, perfectly set on the streets of the overused city of love itself. Billy Wilder and Woody Allen were masters of the rom-com long before the cursed Gary Marshall had his wicked way with it, while Cameron Crowe proved that even the most formulaic of stories could resonate in the cynical 90s with the immensely likable Jerry Maguire. And once you exit the mainstream, there is a wealth of romantic gems to discover. May I recommend Aaron Katz’s excellent Quiet City?

What defines the ‘good’ romances from the ‘bad’ (and, when Gerard Butler is about, the downright ‘ugly’) is that they are built around relationships that work, in which the audience roots for the couple involved. It doesn’t matter if they conclude happily or otherwise - often the ambiguous, bittersweet ending is more effective - a film is much more romantic when the two protagonists belong together. I don’t care if Jennifer Aniston’s ‘quirky’ girl ends up with whatever seven year-old child Adam Sandler is playing this time. But in much better films I do care about how the relationship resolves itself, and that in my humble opinion is what defines romance in cinema.

 So this Valentine’s Day, don’t bring your date along to the cinema in the vague hope of pulling the old yawn trick while your significant other is distracted by moronic erection jokes or whatever hilarity Just Go With It has to offer. Stay at home and put on something decent instead – there are plenty of comedies out there that are genuinely romantic to boot. Actually, scratch that. Can I ask you one small favour? Wait until the 15^th instead.