So I just watched "27 Dresses" with my Mom. We were waiting out rush hour and there was nothing else on. Mom picked it, I didn't.
It was standard romantic-comedy boilerplate, for the most part... women will never get tired of Jane Austen. Ten or twenty interchangeable plot iterations, a steady stream of handsome, disposable actors, and you've got a multimillion-dollar money tree that will never, ever, ever stop producing.
But they got pretty brave with this one... the stubborn, arrogant love interest (this week's Mr. Darcy) actually rants about an unscrupulous multimillion-dollar industry entirely dedicated to milking the sentimentality and romantic expectations of women. He's talking about the wedding industry, but I have to believe this was included as a joke.
The movie did lead me to wonder, though, whether there could really be beautiful women out there who become secretly infatuated with the authors of well-written articles they read in newspapers and magazines before they find out that the author looks like James Marsden. It sounds too good to be true, but one can't help hoping.
--Kevin
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