Don't You Hang Up On Me

Ever notice how unrealistic phone conversations are in the movies? Specifically, have you ever noticed how rarely characters say "goodbye?" Seriously, whether it's a spy thriller or a chick flick, people will just make their last statement ("Tell Colonel Brasstacks I need to speak with him." or "Yes, Brick, I love you with all my heart too!") and then they just hang up. No goodbye, no "see ya later," nothing. This has always bothered me because - who does that?

In the world I live in, ending phone conversations usually involves really highly developed rituals -- me giving reasons why I "have to let you go," repeating the same "I'm done with this conversation" signal phrases, remembering one last thing, starting to end the call but then talking about something else for another ten minutes, etc. And, if nothing else, my conversations always, always end with "Goodbye," "Bye," "talk to you later," "See ya," or some variation thereof. Why don't movie characters believe in this? Don't any of the other characters feel weird or offended by being hung up on at the end of every conversation?



I know, I know. I'm being nitpicky. People don't say goodbye in movies for the same reasons every man is handsome, every woman is stacked, and problems are always resolved in roughly two hours. It's the movies! I wouldn't want that to change. I'm all for escapism and fantasy. Movies are a transportive experience and if the price I have to pay for that escape is people not saying goodbye, I can handle that.

Still, there are certain things that happen in movies I think need to be retired simply because I think they've either become useless cliches or because they just. don't. happen.

First of all, who reads in the tub? Often in movies, we see characters (usually female, always nubile) lounging around in the tub, reading, contemplating their romantic future, swathed in bubbles. Who even regularly takes baths besides five year olds? I was thinking about this last night because I took a bath. I was a little under the weather yesterday and I felt achy so I drew a tub full of blazing hot water and got in. I am six foot one. The tub in our house is approximately three foot eight. I might as well have boiled some water on the stove and wedged myself into the pot on the range. (There's an image, eh?) I mean, it was alright. I soaked my head and relaxed for a while but eventually I had to unfold myself from the yoga/contortionist pose I'd gotten myself into and let blood flow back into my legs again. My point is, this was not a place I'd relax and certainly not a place I would read. Your hands would be wet and, therefore, the pages would be wet. Not to mention what the humidity in the room would do to the pages of your book. (I sound really anal. I know. Sorry.) Admittedly, I'm neither female nor nubile but still, I don't think it's something most people do on any kind of a regular basis.



Other things that just don't really happen and ought to be retired are:

Love/lust at first sight that actually develops into a meaningful, long-term relationship. (The awful, meet-cute barf-fest that comes to mind is the Ashton Kutcher/Amanda Peet vehicle A Lot Like Love. You know it had to be bad. It takes a lot to make me dislike anything involving Amanda Peet.)



Family reunions that are either edenically blissful (Dan In Real Life) or hellishly awful (Home for the Holidays). C'mon, let's be real. I've been to some spectacular family reunions and at least one that was a suckfest on ice (even though it was very hot there) but none of them ever lived up to what the movies regularly present as real.




The Wacky Roommate. I've only had traditional college roommates during one period in my life, the first couple of years in Pocatello at ISU but I did serve a mission and, therefore, had a constant roommate (or four) for two years straight. Some were cool, some were annoying, none were "wacky." For better or worse, none were Spike from Notting Hill.



The Magical Negro.



The Crotchety Old Person With A Heart Of Gold.



Mike Meyers.