Why Grease Stinks: The Bad Solution to the "Opposites Attract" Motif (with Some Suggested Good Solutions)

The Problem

Many romances deal with a hero and heroine who seemingly have nothing in common. It's a popular motif and one reason the film versions of Pride & Prejudice do so well.

Modern Elizabeth and Darcy

I have written elsewhere about why I believe Darcy and Elizabeth actually have more in common than they appear to have at first glance. Although Darcy is an introvert and Elizabeth is an extrovert, they share a similar worldview plus mutual respect. The same is true of Bones and Booth who share a similar view of the world despite their supposedly subjective/gut versus objective/scientific dichotomy.

Still, I have to admit, I enjoy the supposed "opposite" romance. What I dislike is when the "opposite" romance is solved by having the hero or heroine cave. 

This is the end of Grease, and it's the sort of thing that brings out my feminist side. (To be fair, Danny also  changes who he is, the slight difference being that Danny only has to endure ridicule; Sandy alters her entire personality.) This is love? Pretend to be someone else, and you too can get your guy/gal?! 

Oh, puh-leaze.

However, now that I've expressed my displeasure, I will admit: from a writer's point of view, solving the "opposites attract" motif is difficult, especially since--reality-wise--many successful marriages are actually the result of "similarities attract." Successful couples do things together, talk together, solve problems together. It's kind of hard to do this if one member has zero interest in the other member's activity, discussion, solution, etc.

This doesn't mean the couple has to be entirely similar. I think Niles-Daphne's relationship on Frasier, despite it's intense romanticism, is surprisingly believable. Daphne is such a wonderful person, it isn't hard for the viewer to believe that she ought to be swept off her feet by a total romantic like Niles. And Niles is so sweet, it isn't hard to see how he could win Daphne's heart. Although they like different activities, they discover enough common interests to sustain the relationship. And they have a similar way of dealing with people and problems.

And I think a solution to the "opposites attract" problem is possible (see below), but it has to be done with full knowledge of what it means to keep the hero and heroine's "selves" intact. I recently wrote a semi-negative review on Amazon in which I stated the following:

One aspect of the author's writing I admire is bringing the hero and heroine together without either one being forced to sacrifice their integrity or point of view--instead of the hero and heroine trying to make themselves into what they think the other person wants, each stays him or herself. Unfortunately, [the book under review] does not provide this type of ending. It is extremely difficult for me to believe that the main male character would make the choices that he does at the end of this novel. (In the interests of keeping readers aware, the reviewed book is fantasy/erotica.)

The book was truly disappointing since the ending revealed a complete lack of understanding of how a philosophical or religious conviction can utterly define a person's mindset. (Showalter does better with more "worldly" protagonists.) Such mindsets aren't just given up or shrugged off. Although I have no doubt that Mr. B could survive in the modern world (human beings are amazingly adaptable), he would survive in it as himself, not as some politically-correct twinkie.

Love just doesn't kill a person's basic personality or perspective.

Possible Solutions 

There is the "each side sacrifices something" solution--as in O'Henry's "Gift of the Magi" short story. But sometimes, one side shouldn't sacrifice. There's a Friends episode where Monica finds out that Chandler is extremely well-off (he's a hoarder!) and could pay for the wedding of her dreams. Chandler is at first reluctant--he wants to save the money for a house/kids/etc.--but does eventually cave. Fortunately, Monica decides he was right. Me, I don't think he should have caved in the first place!

Another solution is to create an old-fashioned romance: you have my life/I have mine/we have things or people or kids in common, and that's enough! A number of Shojo manga and older romances (from the 80's) use this approach. It isn't a terribly popular solution these days. But it does have its strong points in that it avoids the tiresome "you must be all things to me everyday" demand.

My personal favorite solution is friendship. In the Agatha Christie novel Murder is Easy, the detective Luke and possible murderess Bridget experience instant attraction. The relationship is stormy and conflicted despite their mutual desire to solve the case. At the end of the novel, Christie has this wonderful scene:

"Luke, do you like me now?"

He made a movement toward her, but she warded him off.

"I said 'like', Luke; not 'love.'"

"Oh, I see. Yes, I do. I like you, Bridget, as well as loving you."

Bridget said, "I like you, Luke."

They smiled at each other a little timidly, like children who have made friends at a party.

Bridget said, "Liking is more important than loving. It lasts. I want what is between us to last, Luke. I don't want us just to love each other and marry and get tired of each other, and then want to marry someone else."

"Oh, my dear love, I know. You want reality."

I love this passage, especially since Christie knew what she was talking about from her own experience! She was enormously attracted to her first husband, and they got along when they were younger, but they weren't friends like she was with Max Mallowan, her second husband.

Friendship can solve the problem of "opposites attract" because it is through friendship that the relationship can discover those hidden similarities. Sure, this kind of thing can happen over time, but, returning to the issue of writing, most novels are bound by a narrow structure; lots of things have to happen within either a short amount of time or a limited amount of pages. Friendship can bring the characters together. Most of my favorite books, television shows, movies focus on the dialog between the hero and heroine since it is through the dialog that we learn about how the couple interacts.

The romantic friendship winner this week: Mulder & Scully. I guess I really like that subjective/gut versus objective/scientific combo!

Batman Reviews!

The Mike-Kate Video Club has reviewed Nolan's Batman trilogy:

Batman Begins
The Dark Knight
The Dark Knight Rises

Also, kudos to Christian Bale for his handling of the Colorado shootings (and thanks to Mike for the link). He hit the right note. In general, I have been impressed by the attitude of fans, reviewers, and victims who have resisted making the tragedy about the movie. Bad guys don't always win.

Another Defense of Twilight (Sort of) with Comparisons to Manga

Votaries has addressed Twilight on a few occasions, starting with an in-depth and spot-on critique of the books by Carole.

This was followed by a critique, by me, of the hoopla surrounding Twilight: although I am not a fan of the books, I think criticisms of Twilight's social effects (not its writing) are rather pointless.

Recently, I've formed the conclusion that not only is it pointless to get all bent out of shape over Twilight's supposedly chauvinistic, anti-feminist messages but Twilight meets a need sometimes ignored by American teen writers.

I formed this conclusion after reading a couple fantasy short stories by American writers and then some manga.

The fantasy short stories were retellings of older fairy-tales in which the gal gets the guy (or prince). However, the updated American versions end with the gal patting the prince on the shoulder and deciding, "Well, that was an adventure. I learned something about myself. But now I'm going to go to college. Goodbye, prince."

I understand these endings; to a degree, I agree with them. I've often thought that Bella should just get on with her life instead of moping about over her limp feelings for two boys.

On the other hand . . .

One of the refreshing aspects of Shōjo manga (manga that is aimed at girls and often deals with romantic relationships) is how often the female characters are simply allowed to be in love.

Not just attracted. IN LOVE. Not just "wow, he's so handsome, but I hope I can keep my head and focus on having a career" but IN LOVE. Not "ooooh, I don't know what I think."

IN LOVE.

In Hana-Kimi (the English it's-a-mouthful title is For You in Full Blossom), the female character Mizuki Ashiya--a romantic and sweet-hearted young teen--disguises herself as a boy to pursue the love-of-her-young-life, Izumi Sano (dark-haired boy on the left). She ends up as his roommate at an all-boys high school. She is in love with him for 23 volumes. He figures out she's a girl in Volume 1 but doesn't tell her and spends 1/3rd of the series protecting her; 1/3rd of the series struggling with his feelings; and 1/3rd of the series head-over-heels in love with her.

It's really just an excuse for girls to read about what boys supposedly think and do when they aren't seen by girls. The series runs from completely unrealistic to surprisingly spot-on in terms of events, behavior, and consequences.

And through it all, Mizuki remains devoted to Sano; nobody, including the narrator, has a problem with this.

The two adults who discover her secret during the series support her decision to pursue the man-boy she loves. (The third, her college-age brother, has his doubts but supports her decision.) The narrator never implies that Mizuki is making the wrong decision to spend 2-1/2 years of her high school career in a Japanese boys' school. Mizuki is encouraged to follow her heart, not in some fuzzy, everything-I-feel-is-okay sense but in the "love is hard/let's see if you can take it" sense.

Although sex is discussed, the real issue is how does one behaves towards the person one loves. What sacrifices should one make? Can one really fix the beloved's problems? What does it mean to be supportive?

These are questions that interest American teen girls as well as Japanese teen girls. Learning to handle these issues is part of growing up. And I think this is what Meyers, however poorly, was offering American teen girls with the Twilight series.

At their worst, manga series are a little too much like Twilight: the heroine is clueless, passive, and windging; there are far too many potential romantic leads (oh, which one will she choose?!); events force her into action (she doesn't make independent decisions). Altogether, she's a tad too much as Plinkett's interviewees describe Queen Amidala: monotone.

Unfortunately, there are manga series like this. (At the risk of getting hate-mail, Vampire Knight strikes me this way; I only made it through four volumes before getting fed up with the soap-opera-y, reactive story-lines.)

At their best, manga series are funny, cute, and insightful: there's one romantic lead; the relationship develops over the course of the series; other story-lines and characters enter into the picture, but the underlying focus of the narratives is always the relationship and what it means to be in love. The heroine has a distinct personality; she is often naive, even reckless, but makes tough decisions regarding her immediate and long-term opportunities. She defends her friends physically and vocally but also (hey, she's a girl) emotionally; in fact, she's usually something of a Pollyanna but in the cool Hayley Mills way, not the limp, air-heady way.

The world of teen lit has thankfully expanded a great deal since the "realistic," "relevant" books of my teen years, both topically and internationally. However, even now, until teen writers can say, "Hey, teen girls, it's okay to grapple with being in love," they won't get very far.

Guest Blogger: Mike Discusses Laying the Bait--The Disconnect Between Movies and Trailers

A couple years ago, I caught wind of an announcement of what I suspected was a very bad idea: Fox had decided to remake--or in modern terms, “reboot”--the Spider-man franchise. While the first two movies had been pretty successful and pretty well received by comic fans such as myself (fans, I should point out, just entering the Geek Golden Age), the third movie was something of a disaster. While it made money, the movie was panned critically (especially by fans, who took the movie, as a whole, as a personal insult), threatening to end the franchise.

Sensing there was still money buried in the franchise, Fox followed the lead of two recent superhero franchises that had started from scratch: Batman Begins and The Incredible Hulk. Hoping to appeal to the sore and angry fans (who get far more service than they probably deserve), the studio decided to rename the franchise, going with the traditional adjective-toting title of the comics.

And thus, The Amazing Spider-man was made and has been widely advertised for nearly a year with footage, clips, TV spots, and trailers. While many fans feared a rehash of the story seen in the Raimi movies, the new director, writers, and actors of the reboot all promised a take on Peter Parker’s origin story that explored the disappearance and death of his parents.

The second trailer from the film sells the new premise with vigor. The two minute preview features several clips from the film that not only emphasize Peter’s search for answers regarding his parents but the villain’s ability to grant these answers. Featuring such phrases as “If you want the truth about your parents, Peter, come and get it,” and “Do you think this was an accident, Peter?” the trailer aims to reduce nearly every comic geek who sees it into a driveling, drooling pile of excitement.

That the trailer nearly succeeds is saying a lot, especially considering the general pessimism that most fans felt towards the reboot (and, yes, I was among them). No comic fan can resist the promise of revealed secrets and hidden histories. The trailers promised this and more.

(Beware: mild spoilers ahead!)
 
The only trouble is, when the film was released, those of us who were successfully tempted into seeing the film for these reasons came away completely empty-handed.

Despite my fears and pessimism, I did see the film. And while the purpose of this writing is NOT to present a review, I will say that I found it satisfying on some levels, though it never reached the level of the originals (even considering how dated they feel to me these days) though it does rehash earlier ideas.

The biggest disappointment of the movie, however, is not the quality or even the inevitable revisiting of many plot points from the original films. The main disappointment is the film’s failure to explore the mystery promised in the previews. In fact, many of the scenes and lines featured in the trailer, all of which addressed the mystery directly, are missing from the theatrical release altogether.

While this is certainly disappointing, the sad reality is that modern previews and trailers do this ALL THE TIME. While there have been some famous missing scenes in the past (Twister has long been mocked for a scene of a flying tire hitting a windshield that was seen in the trailer but not the film), the last several years have seen an increase of these incidents.

Even Avengers, the only summer release I’ve seen this year that wasn’t a disappointment, featured a couple trailer moments that were either cut from the film or replaced by a different take (the “billionaire playboy philanthropist” line being the most notable replaced scene).

While many will argue that this is par for the course for Hollywood, I feel it’s a genuine problem.

I am a movie news junkie. I have several websites that I visit several times a day, eagerly scoping for news on upcoming films, new scenes, and trailers. And Hollywood, in its goal to make money, desperately tries to appease me. The fear, however, is that while we fans love these tastes, no one will want to watch the final product (which we've mostly seen through bits and pieces by the time it comes out). As a result, studios are being put in a difficult position by their customers. We movie fans may partly have ourselves to blame when studios oversell a film.

Partly to blame. Studios aren't just overselling; they are making false promises to their audience, and we as consumers shouldn’t just accept that. A couple years ago, the film Drive was sued by consumers, claiming false advertising, as the trailers of the film made what was a slow, violent drama seem like an action-oriented Fast and the Furious rip-off.

While a lawsuit may seem a bit melodramatic, this needs to happen more often. A piece of art (which, despite some strong arguments to the contrary, I still believe film to be) should be sold on its own merits, not for what it pretends to be. If a studio suspects that a film is not what an audience wants, it will advertise the film as the desired product rather than change the film itself. I’m all for artistic integrity; money or not, studios should deliver the product they promised!

The sad truth is that things probably won’t change. The “bait and switch” is an age old concept of sales and trade and will be a part of humanity for a long time to come. But when untruth is prevalent, it’s hard to take pleasure in much of anything, especially those things we SHOULD enjoy, like a trip to the movies. I’m not giving up yet, but if The Dark Knight Rises turns out to be a romantic comedy, my next stop will be the library.

Mike can be reached at his Facebook page and at the Mike-Kate Video Club.