Nights in Rodanthe vs. Rambo 4
So we’ve been trying to relax by catching up on the recordings on our DVRs.
He Who Shall Not Be Named On This Blog doesn’t want me to tell you this, but in addition to long documentaries about Icelandic rock groups (no, really…sometimes they play music with rocks), HWSNBNITB loves to record romantic movies.
But He Who Shall Not Be Named In This Blog has another secret, besides his love for Sigur Ros and anything starring Hugh Grant:
He loves Nicholas Sparks movies.
Now, I have tried to explain to He Who Shall Not Be Named In This Blog that in almost every single Nicholas Spark movie, someone dies tragically at the end, which is not what I call a romance, and that this is because Nicholas Sparks’s mother died in a horseback riding accident two months after N.S.’s wedding.
Then his first baby died. Then his second son had physical problems. Then his dad died in a car accident. And then his sister died of a brain tumor.
But N.S. was able to channel all of that loss into becoming a huge bestselling author, then build a school, and he’s ALSO the track coach at the local public high school.
No. For real. I am not kidding you. In addition to writing a huge blockbuster every year or so, he is also the track coach at the local public school. It was in The New York Times. Do you work your full time job then also go build a school, then go coach the track team?
No? What’s wrong with you?
(PS–I’m kidding, I don’t do any of these things either.)
So can you really blame me for not wanting to watch Nights in Rodanthe, which was on the same night as Quarantine*???
Especially since I had already gone to Moviespoilers.com and checked to see how it ended.
Which I told HWSNBNITB.
“So?” he said. “We’re still watching it. And you’re going to love it.”
I so was not going to love this movie (if you do not want to know what happens at the end of this movie, STOP READING HERE. Because it is one of Nicholas Sparks’s best—by which I mean worst—endings ever).
“Seriously,” I said to him. “Do you know that Richard Gere gets—”
“DO NOT TELL ME,” he said.
“—completely killed by—”
“I will hold you tenderly in my arms while you cry,” HWSNBITB said.
On MY DVR (yes. We have His and Her DVRs. That is how we’ve stayed married 16 years), I’d recorded the new Rambo, and HWSNBITB had not held me tenderly in his arms as Rambo blew everyone (very satisfyingly) to bits, but had in fact fallen asleep as we’d watched it.
John Rambo is tamed by this missionary, much like the Incredible Hulk was tamed by Liv Tyler.
“Fine,” I said, very grudgingly because these are the kinds of sacrifices you make in a marriage.
And so I was forced to watch Nights in Rodanthe, in which poor Richard Gere, plays a doctor who accidentally kills someone (but feels guilty about it. He should try building a school, then coaching track).
And Diane Lane plays a woman whose husband has left her. We are supposed to think it’s because he’s an ass, but really it’s because she’s lost her self-esteem, cut her hair into an unflattering style (which I couldn’t help noticing looks a lot line mine. Thanks, Nicholas Sparks!) and stopped making boxes out of drift wood.
One of the driftwood boxes Diane Lane made, which were actually made by this guy in real life.
At one point Richard Gere and Diane Lane drunkenly throw the contents of a woman’s pantry into a garbage can. Obviously, there was nothing to do after that but make wild passionate love.
Then Richard Gere is killed in a South American mudslide.
“See,” I said to He Who Shall Not Be Named In This Blog. “I told you so.”
“But Diane Lane learned a valuable lesson,” HWSNBNITB said.
“About what?” I asked.
“To make boxes out of drift wood and not to wear her hair so short.”
Nights in Rodanthe
Three Well Deserved Tiaras!!!
*PS Later, I watched Quarantine, and it has an even worse ending than Nights in Rodanthe. Just FYI.