Letters to Boo-liet. 1/4

Hoping to latch onto fans of Twilight and Nicholas Sparks, Letters to Juliet isn’t hopelessly romantic so much as it is just plain hopeless.  What’s more frightening is girls from the ages of 14 to young women in their mid to late twenties (or tweenties maybe?) will be coming in droves to see this saccharine disaster.

The film introduces us to Sophie (Amanda Seyfried), our doll-faced heroine who works at a New York newspaper as a “fact checker”, a delightfully vague occupation that suits the film and it’s plucky protagonist.  Sophie is a sweet, hopeless romantic from the start, yet is engaged to up-and-coming chef Victor (Gael Garcia Bernal, who must have really needed the money), who seems to love food far more than his blushing bride-to-be.

When the two head off to Italy for a “pre-honeymoon”, Sophie stumbles upon Juliet’s Wall in Verona, in which women write their romance woes to Juliet (yes, Shakespeare’s Juliet) and stick them between the cracks of the wall.  When Sophie responds to a fifty-year-old letter about a love lost, Clair (Vanessa Redgrave), the writer of the letter, returns to Italy with the hopes of being reunited with her true love from fifty years ago.

For as silly as this all sounds, Juliet’s Wall is actually a real place.  The wall is depicted here as a sanctuary for the lost and broken-hearted, populated by weeping woman who, instead of dealing with their problems head on, decide to write to a fictional character to clean their messes up for them.  It should be noted that Juliet Capulet, the fictional character from William Shakespeare’s play, was a thirteen-year-old girl who killed herself for a teenage boy she knew for about a week.

For a film about the quest for true love in one of the most beautiful places on the planet, it’s incredibly lazy.  Seyfried walks about as if she’s sleepwalking through the film, and Redgrave appears to be in some stage of dementia; the film thus follows by example.  The two somnambulists, with Claire’s cynical grandson Charlie (Christopher Egan) in tow, essentially knock on some doors hoping Clair’s long lost lover will answer, and sit in fancy cafes; that’s about it.  Even the unlikely romance between Seyfried and Egan just floats in and out like a narcoleptic Cupid.

The only thing holding the film together (relatively) is the intended desperation for a love less ordinary (or real) encapsulated by “Romeo and Juliet,” which the film references numerous times in the most heavy-handed of ways.  Although this kind of needy desire for a man is what drives films of this genre, Letters, as well as many films like it nowadays, indulges in flimsy sensationalism that inversely paints a rather demeaning portrait of it’s target demographic.

Letters displays it’s two lead female characters as victims, not by chance or fate, but of their own doing.  Sophie and Clair both live in a bubble created by their own flimsy sensibilities and flit around obstacles that lack any real conflict.  Both are shown to live for a half-realized ideal, only to abandon it for something convenient, then procede to fail upwards through an ill-conceived heroine’s journey of their own design.  It’s self-indulgent, self-absorbed, and audiences deserves better.

On the other hand, cynics will probably have a hearty laugh as they pull out their own hair, since the film could easily serve as a parody of itself with ease.  For those more inclined to find humor in the face of the ridiculous, Charlie initially acts as the sole voice of condescending reason and openly mocks Sophie and Clair’s search, as well as their fickle grasp on true love.  Unfortunately, Charlie falls victim to Sophie’s big green eyes, and is welcomed into the big dumb machine that is this film.

A suspension of disbelief has always been required for these kinds of sappy romance films.  They are designed to let people throw caution to the wind and become immersed in dramatic fantasy; they’re guilty pleasures.  That being said, Letters to Juliet is guilty for more than just sensitive sensibility; it panders to the lowest common denominator.  Whereas films like Love Story, the godmother of lovey-dovey pictures, are over-the-top in every way, Letters is a blank slate; its boring, vacant, and perfect for sad-faced victims of adolescent ego to project their own issues onto.  It doesn’t provide a place to suspend reality and reason, it requires it, demands it in order to work.  And for that, it doesn’t.

In this article, LS2FG writer Benn Hadland takes a look at the social implication of Indie romantic dramedies, and how they reflect the state of relationships and romance with Generation Y. Due to the subject matter (and Benn’s affinity for flowery ramblings), the article will be split into three parts. Part two will be released on the 9th, and the final part will drop on the 16th.

All you need is love. Love is all you need.
Oh, if only, Mr. Lennon, if only love were that simple. And yet, countless pop songs, novels, poems and motion pictures have revolved around that very concept; the idea that love should be all you need, yet for some reason, isn’t.

Art, in all its forms, reflects the culture it was conceived in. Every conflict, every cause, every generation can be seen and heard in the films and songs written in that era. The carefree, gee-whiz approach to love in the Sixties can be heard in Beatles songs, the confusion and disillusionment of establishment during the Seventies was foreshadowed in the The Graduate, the insecurity of the Eighties can be heard from the bellowing lamentations of The Smiths, and the “fuck not given” attitude declared by slackers in the Nineties can be seen in Clerks.

As the days of Generation Y come to a close, one can paint quite an accurate portrait based on its music and film. If you’re confused as to whether you belong in this particular generation, I’ll break it down for you: If you grew up watching The Real Ghostbusters, witnessed the downfall of Saturday morning cartoons and the advent of MySpace, Facebook and texting, and you are still not entirely financially independent at age of 25, you are Generation Y.

Blink 182, Jimmy Eat World, the films of Judd Apatow and Wes Anderson, World of Warcraft… so much can be derived about our generation from these pieces of entertainment and pop culture. But I’m not really concerned with Y’s arrested development, or affinity for isolation, or preference for digital interaction over personal. As with every generation, nationality or civilization, love and relationships are one of the cornerstones of a society. If we’re not looking for someone we’re with someone, if we’re not trying to get laid we’re getting laid, if we’re not breaking up we’re making up, and if we’re not out breaking hearts right and left, chances are we’re nursing one of our own.

I’ve noticed a trend in films nowadays focusing on the ups and downs of relationships concerning this current generation with films like Juno, (500) Days of Summer, The 40 Year Old Virgin and Paper Heart. Each film reveals, on some level, a yearning for a sincere human connection while recoiling from it at the same time for some reason. According to the aforementioned films, this results in sex as a quick substitute for something a tad more meaningful, and relationships that reside in romantic limbo and abandon surefire commitment.

Of course, your typical Hollywood rom-com hasn’t gone out of style (count your lucky stars Katherine Heigl), yet this new “indie” rendition has struck quite a chord with twentysomethings across the board. Usually when a story concerning such an intimate topic connects with an audience, it’s because the audience can directly relate to the events and opinions expressed in the story. That, along with the experiences of myself and my friends concerning the wonderful world of dating, has lead me to believe that these films are on to something.

The films of Hollywood’s Golden Age took a very straightforward approach to romance: you meet someone, you fall in love, you get married, and that’s it. It doesn’t get any more simple or secure as that.

Then again, the films of our parents generation stopped too soon, as films often do, and missed the various wearies and woes of married life, and the consequences of getting married so soon after high school or college. People get locked into jobs they hate, live in a house they don’t want and have kids before they are really ready, all because people are told they need to “settle down”. This usually results in unfulfilled dreams and lives, affairs, alcoholism, anger and eventually divorce, showing those of us entering adulthood that love may not last forever.

Practically speaking, we all know that most, if not all relationships will at some point come to an end, but at the same time nobody likes rejection. No one likes the idea of sharing and opening up to another human being, only to be left behind for some inexplicable reason. Some people just don’t care about this; as far as they’re concerned, it’s just something that inevitably happens and it shouldn’t keep you from finding or discovering someone you can spend your life with. Most people, on the other hand, take this knowledge as a warning and either form disposable relationships with a myriad of people, or avoid the whole thing all together. Today’s indie comedies tackle this concept by revolving around the disorder of the modern day romance and how people today deal with it, revealing the justifications, the flaws, and the outcomes of forming and dissolving relationships.