She: February again. The month of hearts, chocolate flowers and frustration.
Z: I thought you liked my Valentine?
She: I did.
Z: And the groundhog did a bang-up job in the weather department.
She: Absolutely.
Z: And we’re married, so there’s no pressure. Why aren’t you reveling in the romance of Valentine’s Day?
She: Because it’s also chick-flick season. Despite all of the promising previews, I know that the vast majority of the movies this month will be hopelessly stupid, not hopelessly romantic.
Z: I thought hopelessly romantic and hopelessly stupid went hand in hand. That’s how you got me to sit through all of those hopelessly stupid chick flicks.
She: I’m afraid the chick-flick genre may have jumped the shark.
Z: Who are you? What have you done with my wife?
She: I know, it’s awful. I used to love any kind of romantic movie but now all I get is heartbreak. They’ve gotten so bad they just don’t do it for me anymore. Heartbreak, pure heartbreak.
Z: At least they don’t give you heartburn the way I get from holding back all of my snide comments.
She: Holding back?
Z: I am the model of restraint.
She: When we were first dating you’d put up a little protest when I got to pick the movie, but deep down inside I knew you loved going to chick flicks with me.
Z: I’m not an idiot. They used to get you all mushy and soft lipped and prone to listening to my romantic suggestions. Hubba-hubba.
She: It helped that you didn’t mock the movies the entire time we were watching them.
Z: Which I’m pretty sure may have caused me some physical damage. I’m still backed up.
She: Model of restraint?
Z: Please. Even 10 minutes of Fool’s Gold with Matthew McConaghey or Fools Rush In with Matthew Perry, and I’m the one who’s the fool.
She: I know. They don’t make ‘em like they used to. Funny Face, The Philadelphia Story, Sabrina, Gone With the Wind.
Z: You realize all of those movies were made before you were born.
She: What about When Harry Met Sally or Moonstruck? They don’t make them like that anymore, either.
Z: They try. Every time I glance at one of those Lifetime movie rip-offs that you watch, there always seems to be someone either watching a classic romantic movie or quoting one.
She: They do struggle for originality.
Z: I think the best romantic comedies these days are about guys.
She: They’re not really romantic.
Z: They’re bromantic. 40-Year-Old Virgin, The Hangover. Much more fun, if lacking the eye candy.
She: The titles pretty much say it all. The best romantic comedy I’ve seen in ages was Easy A.
Z: The romance was really a subplot.
She: Exactly. That’s why I’m so sad for the genre.
Z: I think it’s tough when the genre can easily be reduced to cute boy meets girl; some weird, invented thing gets between the boy and the girl; boy gets girl; boy loses girl; boy gets girl back.
She: You’re making me weepy. It used to be that the guys were the ones kicking and screaming at chick flicks, now I’m the one kicking and screaming in frustration.
Z: The boy meets girl premise is still solid, but the execution has been done a million different ways.
She: The more contemporary they try to be the worse it gets.
Z: Plus, it’s hard to keep people apart these days. If a couple wants to get together, they get together. Otherwise, they’re just annoying whiners.
She: I have an idea for a romantic comedy. Two, happily married people write a column together, only the guy is an insensitive lout who makes fun of other people’s movie tastes.
Z: Even better: it’s two guys who write a column together, and one of them has to lose his virginity in Las Vegas.
She: Yes, dear.
— What movie should She and Z see this week? E-mail your suggestions to leslie@lesliedinaberg.com.