10 Great Romance Movies that You Should Hate (But Probably Love)

This movie is actually the worst. The WORST. Its only redeeming quality is the stupidly attractive Shane West, but even his ER-worthy good looks can’t salvage the shitshow that comprises this nauseating teenage melodrama. How unoriginal is this premise? A bad-ass teenage boy has his heart owned by an innocent, naive and inhumanly good girl who shows him what life is really about, then – gasp! – she’s terminally ill and he’s left to pick up the pieces of his shattered, grief-stricken heart after her death--and become a reformed God-fearing Samaritan. Get real. First off, most of the “bad boys” of my high school were genuine assholes (and still are). Also, characters like Mandy Moore don’t actually get picked on, because if you were to pick on a character like Mandy Moore, you would burn forever in the fiery pits of hell. That INCLUDES you, Shane West. Finally, the acting – dear GOD, the acting. I’m pretty sure you could’ve chosen better actors out of a high school production of Oklahoma. I felt like I was watching a 1980s after-school special with a better looking protagonist and a less talented cast. Yep, I hate everything about this movie – it even failed to make me cry (until I realized I wasn't going to get my four hard-earned bucks back).

Elaine Benes got it right: this movie was weak. I get that it’s a passionate love story with lots of sex, and I enjoy that. Frankly, however, Kristin Scott Thomas' character was a massive whore, Ralph Fiennes' was a huge tool, and Juliette Binoche's was . . . well, I’ve got nothing against her. It’s basically the classic “cheating with your friend’s wife behind his back” story that runs rampant in various films, shows and neighborhoods – but the only different is that it’s happening in the desert in the midst of World War II. Curveball! And again with the manic obsessive sex-fuelled relationship that so many of these “epic” love stories are based on. But this time – instead of freezing to death a la Jack Dawson – the heroine dies of injury and thirst abandoned in a cave while her lover gets detained by the police. Then he nearly burns to death and spends his last days recounting the days of love lost, all while failing to consider the people they hurt and the actual consequences of their irresponsibility. Wow, it’s like The Notebook all over again--without characters you can semi-tolerate.

Clay scene and Patrick Swayze aside, I don’t think you can deny that this movie is fucked. Now, maybe it’s because I haven’t experienced a type of loss that prompts me to use a medium, but how creepy is the idea of Patrick Swayze possessing Whoopi Goldberg? Did anyone else sit there thinking “wait, but, it’s Whoopi! She’s actually kissing Whoopi!” during the tearfilled goodbye? I mean, I love Whoopi Goldberg and all, but she’s Whoopi Goldberg. An awesome black comedian chick is kind of a far cry from Johnny Castle. And anyways, why couldn’t he say “I love you”? “Ditto” isn’t “love”, pal. I’m pretty sure Demi should’ve dumped his sorry ass prior to his untimely demise considering he couldn’t be bothered to return her sentiments. Isn’t this what He’s Just Not That Into You is based on? If a man can’t say I love you but can turn a clay-making session into a sex romp, he’s probably only in it for two things: sexy-time and pottery. Had he not died, I’d have given them two years. Tops.

Alright, I get the “cute” thing. I mean, it is. But at the same time, I can’t help but cringe at the massive waste of talent put forth by the likes of Kate Winslet, Cameron Diaz, Jack Black and Jude Law – two of the four are even Academy Award winners/nominees. And what makes watching this movie worse is the fact that they all know it. As the cutesy “where should I go alone on Christmas” music plays while they take turns looking perplexed, you can’t help but get the feeling the whole cast was somehow coerced into the project – like they all drunkenly promised Nancy Meyers that they’d be in her movie, but never expected her to actually make it. Also, come on--the characters are classic pity-partiers who fail to successfully better their situations in any realistic manner, and then continue to screw up their situations through miscommunication and immaturity. Jude could’ve told Cameron he had kids from the get-go. Jack Black should’ve said “Look, Kate Winslet, I just got out of a horrible relationship and I’m a little fucked up right now”. Kate Winslet would’ve replied “That’s totally fine – I’m emotionally fragile, so let’s take it slow and see where this goes. Also, I’m going to have to return to England at some point – so I hope you’ve saved some Air Miles.”

First, let me state that I watch this every time it’s on television, and I accompany each viewing with tears and the occasional “they really loved each other!” outburst between sobs. Really, the smell I'm smelling is the bullshit that comprises their relationship. I simply can’t handle how manic Allie seems to be through 95% of the movie. She loves him, she hates him; she wants to end things, she doesn’t; she's into the sex-fueled weekend, she's going back to Lon. Allie, MAKE UP YOUR GODDAMN MIND. Sure, it’s a beautifully filmed love story, but come on –why didn’t Noah just go and see Allie instead of writing letters? Come to think of it, what took her so long to go see him? Why couldn’t Allie just tell her fiancé how confused she was? Why are the characters of these movies so fucking STUPID? Wouldn’t anyone else think, “You know – I really can’t stop thinking about her. She hasn’t answered my letters, but I’ll take one last stab at it and head out East to say ‘sup.” Don’t even get me started on the way they romanticize Alzheimer’s. If you’ve dealt with that shit, you’d understand that the older Noah-Allie dynamic is totally impossible and ultimately offensive. If only all patients had perfectly coiffed hair and the ability to don a three-piece suit complete with shawl. Should I be judging my grandma the next time I visit her now? And I get that it’s all romantic that they died at the same time, but have you ever thought about their kids and grandkids? I mean, Noah and Allie were basically the worst parents ever. Congratulations – you successfully entered the afterlife simultaneously, but now your kids get to bury both of their parents and explain to their children why they won’t be going to visit Grandpa and Grandma anymore.

Awww. Its so SWEET when a hooker falls in love with a businessman. Ladies, she’s a prostitute. A nice prostitute, a prostitute with a heart of gold, but a prostitute nonetheless. And he’s a John. An emotionally-destroyed, Fendi-suit wearing John, but alas, a man that pays money for sex. Frankly, their relationship couldn’t be LESS romantic. This story’s been compared to a modern day My Fair Lady, but I’m pretty sure Dr. Henry Higgens didn’t follow up every etiquette lesson by asking Eliza Doolittle for a blow job. The whole premise is just so creepy – the fact that he hires her for a week and indulges in faux intimacy while making her over in hopes to hide the fact he essentially purchased a temporary girlfriend? Dysfunctional and hopelessly misogynistic. And then they fall in love and . . . last forever? That’ll go over real well at family and business functions. Plus, what a story to tell the grandkids. Way to be role models, guys.

Now, I chose She’s All That because it’s the easiest to make fun of, but this rant applies to all “makeover” movies:Pretty Woman, My Fair Lady, Grease - nothing is spared. You know the drill: boy meets girl, boy mocks girl, girl undergoes transformation at the hands of boy, boy realizes he wants to tap that ass, a horrible misunderstanding ensues, boy and girl end up together and everything is hunky-dory. The end. In this case, Freddie Prinze Jr. uses the transformation of Rachel Leigh Cook to win a bet – but realizes he (gasp!) actually likes her once he sees her in a bathing suit. Could she be both interesting AND attractive? Let’s cut her hair and give her contacts, and find out. Surprise - she nearly wins prom queen! Even as a child – though I was dying to learn the choreographed dance and woo a Freddie Prinze-equivalent – I thought Laney Boggs was way cooler pre-makeover. Poetry, Buddy Holly glasses, artistry, personality – isn’t that was hipsters of today are made of? Does she have to become cookie-cutter to win the guy's heart?

Before I begin, I should probably admit that I saw this in theatres, I actually cried, and I bought the book. That being said, let me clarify that my tears were a result of estrogen, my decision to pay movie admission was in support of a girls’ night out, and my purchase of the book was because it was discounted. Bottom line: this movie is all bad. See, I get that it’s all romantic that he travels through time to meet his wife at various life stages, but I don’t get why the idea of a middle-aged man appearing naked in a meadow to a young child – and telling her it has to be “their secret”- is the basis of a love story, and not an episode of Law and Order: SVU. “Stranger danger”, anyone? If a naked man appeared to me in my backyard, he’d face such a shit storm of charges, his time travelling days would come to a fast close in a time-travel-proof jail cell. And frankly, the whole “time-travelling” thing is just too convenient. I can see it now: “Where were you, Henry? Oh, you were visiting my six-year-old self for days at a time! THAT makes more sense than infidelity...”; “What was that? You just appeared naked in her bed? Why of course!” Hell no. This story’s ridiculously far-fetched – and this comes from a girl who believes wholeheartedly in Harry Potter.

Really, would this list truly be complete without the love story to crown all love stories? Again, I should probably state that I both own this movie and love it wholeheartedly – but that doesn’t mean it’s free from my all-encompassing judgment. In addition to the cringingly-cliché “I jump you jump”/”Jack, this is where we first met” dialogue, the movie – like so many great love stories before it – promotes the “romantic” ideals of infidelity and miscommunication. Not to mention the diamond in the pocket! Sweet Jesus – it’s Maury Povich circa 1912. What’s next? John Jacob Astor bursting into the room declaring, “Cal, you are not the father!”? And yes, my tears fell when Jack died (cue more “they really loved each other!” outbursts coupled with more sobbing), but could Jack and Rose not have ROTATED on the floating door? When you’re actually in love, I’m pretty sure the idea of someone sacrificing his safety for yours – no matter how romantic it seems – is quickly kiboshed when you realize that your soul mate might actually die as a result. Last point here--am I sensing a theme or do the “best epic love stories ever” seem to transpire over an embarrassingly short amount of time? The day I announce to my friends that I found “the one” within two days – that I’m leaving my current sensible man for a smart-mouthed poor artiste – is the day my friends stage an intervention. Bros before hos, Jack – way to abandon Fab and Tommy to die on their own. I think there’s a reason the protagonists of these tales seem to be friendless – nobody wants to play third wheel to the over-the-top obsessive couple.

In this case, it’s not just a horrible story, but a horrible film. In addition to the bad acting and an ill-worded script, can we address the hard emo-rock music that signals the beginning of every epic slow-motion showdown? I’m sorry, but I fail to equate romance with the sounds of angsty “the world hates me” rock-n-roll. I also fail to associate romance and love with vampires and their seedy underworld. Sure, in this case, the vampire in question (Edward, played by Robert Pattinson – ever heard of him?) is a beautiful, tortured vegetarian, but his “old-fashioned” (read: misogynistic) tendencies are not so much endearing as they are off-putting. That, and it’s not like Bella’s exactly a catch to begin with. Not only does she have the personality of a paperclip, but she’s a classic Stage 5 Clinger. I mean, really? You can’t live without him at age 17? You’ll die if he leaves? Bitch, please. I sang the same song when I was a teenager, too, but I’m pretty sure Leonardo DiCaprio didn’t return my fan mail.

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My main complaint with these movies is the way they all demean the unconditional, respectful, emotionally mature characteristics of real love. So what, love can't happen if you’re on the fringe of the norm? You’ve got to show T&A to get the guy? Once you become socially acceptable, then he can pursue you? If he dies for you, that means he REALLY loves you? Get real. Girls, we can do better than this. Shouldn't real love be the opposite of such superficiality? Wait – maybe before you answer that, we should call up Richard Gere circa Pretty Woman and ask him how much Vivien’s new wardrobe cost.