could dance. Ryan Reynolds
— comedy bro and incredibly
violent superhero — was ours
first.
Speaking of fine fellas with
roots in the genre, I’ve compiled
a
short
(and
surprisingly
incomprehensive) list for you:
Mark
Ruffalo?
Ours.
Keanu Reeves? Ours. Patrick
Dempsey? Ours. Tom Cruise?
Ours.
Leonardo
DiCaprio?
Ours. Tom Hardy? Ours. Three
of the four Chris-es? Ours. Brad
Pitt? Ours. Orlando Bloom?
Ours. Hugh Jackman? Ours.
Greg Kinnear? Ours. Matthew
McConaughey? Ours.
The Romcomaissance saw
movies
like
2002’s
“Sweet
Home Alabama” and 2004’s
“50 First Dates” — movies that
never tried to be anything more
than exactly what they were.
That’s all romcoms are, really:
At their barest bones, they’re
movies that are made for their
audiences. They’re algorithmic
and predictable, and they’re not
made for the people that won’t
like them or won’t get them.
These movies are good because
of the feelings they monopolize,
not because of their stellar plots
or
cinematography.
They’re
good because of The Look.
The Look doesn’t say, “I want
to lunge at you,” and it doesn’t
even say “I want to kiss you.”
The Look says, “I think that
if I were to never stop looking
at you, I’d be OK.” It’s Heath
Ledger staring at you as he asks
if it’s quite alright that he loves
you, baby. It’s Hugh Dancy in
the firelight proving, once and
for all, that consent is sexy.
The Look is an exhale, when
you finally get what you always
knew you deserved.
Romcom ladies were always
perfect to me — cutely clumsy,
magnetically
manic.
And
they’re still perfect to me, but as
I’ve grown with them, they’ve
shaped me in
more ways than
just
making
flared-jeans my
forever
go-to.
When
Hilary
Duff tears into
the locker room
in “A Cinderella
Story”
to
tell
the
most
beautiful
boy
in school (see:
the world) that
waiting for him
is “like waiting
for rain in this drought,” she’s
nervous
and
embarrassed.
This is also the one moment in
the movie that she holds her
head the highest. She fills her
life with all the love she’ll ever
need, and she walks out of that
locker room, one thumb hooked
firmly in her belt loop, alone.
She — like all the very best
romcom gals — knew her worth.
In 2004’s “13 Going on 30”
— possibly my favorite romcom
ever — there’s this scene where
Jennifer Garner’s character is
telling a bunch of 13-year-old
girls about love, and how it’s
a battlefield. And then they
danced. The movie is a romcom,
yeah, but it’s about a girl
breaking in her pink dream-
house, growing up, teaching
her co-workers how to dance
to “Thriller.” It’s one of the
most
profoundly
romcom-y
romantic comedies I’ve ever
seen because, at its very core,
the movie is hers. All of it. “13
Going on 30” belongs to this girl
who’s not quite sure who she is,
giving her the space to hold the
hands of other girls who aren’t
quite sure who they are and
talk about the night with the
Razzles.
Romantic comedies are holy
ground. I’m built from them,
and I know they’ve built a lot
of other people, too. I know I’m
never going to dance to “Bennie
and
the
Jets”
on a bar table
in the middle of
nowhere
after
hydroplaning
with
James
Marsden.
But
that doesn’t stop
me from wanting
to see Katherine
Heigl do it. I’ve
watched
that
scene at least 27
times (sorry), and
it gets me every
damn one. There’s
just this feeling of knowing
that I’m always going to get
the
chest-clutching,
knee-
curling,
doubling-over-in-
glee kind of warmth that I’ve
sustained myself on for a solid
two decades now. These stories
aren’t mine, but they are, and
they always will be.
FILM NOTEBOOK
I’ve always been someone
who tends to disregard whether
or not a movie is considered
high art or in particularly good
taste. Last week, I watched
“Penelope” again, even though
it’s labeled as one of the “movies
for ages 11 to 12” on Netflix.
I love it regardless. I love
the way Penelope (Christina
Ricci, “Z: The Beginning of
Everything”) weeds out her
undeserving suitors and the
way the final kiss makes me feel
like I have sparklers sizzling
through my chest. There’s a
feeling so integral and inherent
to movies like “Penelope” —
movies that exist to make you
feel something, anything, good.
“Penelope” is a romcom.
Every time I start to think I’m
a parody of myself, I remember
two things:
One: I am.
Two: It doesn’t matter.
I don’t care that the line I’ve
been holding in my heart for
eight years now — “It makes me
so sad that people like Kostas
and Bridget who have lost
everything can still be open
to love, while I, who have lost
nothing, am not” — came from
a franchise founded upon a pair
of blue jeans (“Sisterhood of the
Traveling Pants”). I don’t care.
I love these movies with all
that I am because they make me
feel good. It feels good to watch
two people want each other so
much that they hate each other,
even though they don’t hate
each other — not even close, not
even a little bit, not even at all.
And
they’ve
taught
me
things, you know? They’ve
taught me how to stress-scrub
my stove, and to speak up even
when I feel like the smallest
person in the room. They’ve
taught me the power of a boot-
cut. They’ve taught me that I
should never — not ever — settle
for anyone or anything that
doesn’t absolutely thrill me.
We’ve all got glitter in our blood
and love in our very bones.
There was a period in the
mid ’90s-2000s (what I like
to call The Romcomaissance)
when romcoms did nothing
short of thrive. 1999’s “She’s
All That,” 2001’s “The Wedding
Planner,” 2008’s “Definitely,
Maybe” — they’re sweet in the
easiest of ways. Laney Boggs
deserved better and Mary Fiore
WARNER BROS.
To all the romcoms I’ve loved before
ARYA NAIDU
Senior Arts Editor
VIDEO GAMES NOTEBOOK
ELECTRONIC ARTS
What do you get when you
mix the board-game “Life,”
“Cards Against Humanity” and
an HGTV home improvement
show? The EA (Electronic
Arts) gaming masterpiece “The
Sims 3.” Whether it’s becoming
a home renovation guru and
designing the kitchen of your
dreams (granite countertops
and all) or throwing morality
out the window to live out
your wildest fantasies (like
doing-the-dirty with the grim
reaper or — more morbidly —
drowning your Sims in a pool),
“The Sims 3” has a little bit
of something for everyone.
The franchise’s motto,
“Play with life,” perfectly
encapsulates
the
very
nature of the game: As you
guide your character, or
Sim, through their life, the
opportunities
(if
grave-
robbing is an “opportunity”)
are limitless, providing an
individualized
experience
for each player. It’s up to
you to make what you will
of the game. But beyond
the
boundless
creativity
and anarchic freedom of
the game, there lies a level
of control afforded to the
player that is not accessible
in reality, making “The
Sims 3” the perfect platform
to channel high levels of
stress and anxiety. After all,
when life throws you into
a metaphorical shredder,
what’s a better way to
regain a sense of control
than by assuming the role of
a virtual god in “The Sims
3”?
For as long as I can
remember,
I’ve
always
struggled
with
high
anxiety.
Anything
from
being indecisive about what
MADELEINE GANNON
Daily Arts Writer
Creative chaos: How ‘The
Sims 3’ helps with anxiety
I want for dinner, to crossing
the street as the light flashes
red, to having to say “no” to
people (I’m a people-pleaser)
can trigger a bout of gut-
wrenching anxiety. Growing
up in New York City certainly
didn’t help either. I’m almost
always in a constant state of
apprehension, so most of the
time it’s simple enough to gulp
down the characteristic wave
of nausea and bite my nails to
nubs in lieu of panic attack.
But sometimes the anxiety
proves too intense to clamp
down. Cue the crushing weight
on my chest that feels like the
breath has been knocked out of
me, the bile that bubbles up my
throat, the burning, blinding
tears. As a young girl, home
alone in the midst of a panic
attack and no one to come calm
and me down, I had to find a
way to help myself. So, I got
creative. My answer? “The
Sims 3.”
I can still remember blowing
(literal) dust off my neglected
iMac 2007, waiting what felt
like eons to boot up the game,
listening to the rumble of the
fans struggling to keep the
system from overheating. My
monstrous
desktop
always
seemed like the dinosaur of the
digital age, big and clunky even
when it was still new. More
often than not, I would have to
coax the computer to play nice,
restarting that useless hunk of
junk and crossing my fingers
that the oh-so-familiar green
diamond would pop up on
screen — usually accompanied
by a full-volume blast of “The
Sims 3”’s opening theme song.
Playing
the
game,
I
would
—
and
occasionally
still do — spend hours with
the
customization
tools.
Sometimes I would simply
recreate familiar figures —
friends, family, pop culture
icons — and other times I
would let my imagination run
wild, like when I made my
green, kleptomaniac vampire
named Steve. The Create-A-
Sim, or the character design,
function of the game allows
the player to customize nearly
every aspect of their Sim, from
their voices to their clothing
and even their personality
traits. The level of character
detail allowed me to lose
myself in the game, helping me
take my mind off my anxiety.
The ability to build and design
homes, or lots, in the game
is also an activity I relished
in. Not only could I express
my own artistic ability, but
wasting away the afternoon
doing something as simple as
designing the pattern of the
drapes in my Sim’s home was
downright relaxing. “The Sims
3” has a unique mind-numbing
effect; unlike other games, I
don’t need to think in order
to play, and most of the time
overthinking is my big, fat
problem.
Not only does “The Sims
3” simulate a deep level of
relaxation, but playing the
game also allows me to feel
like I’m in control. Panic
attacks and regular bouts of
anxiety are self-perpetuating
problems: They are inspired
by a perceived lack of control,
followed by the subsequent
emotional
rollercoaster
so
debilitating that you then lose
what little control you might
have had — a vicious cycle.
However, in “The Sims 3,”
the player has control over
almost every aspect of the
game — I have control over the
entire in-game world. I can stop
time or speed it up within the
game, control every action of
my Sim, influence the weather
and the lives of other computer
generated
and
controlled
characters and even age or
make immortal any character.
I can use cheats or game-
mods to surpass what few
in-game boundaries there are.
Now, I can admit that this can
come off as a little bit power-
hungry and controlling. But
in all honesty, that’s because
I am — that’s what my anxiety
drives me to be. Sure, I would
love to prop my feet up, grab
a drink with a fancy umbrella
in it and watch a YouTube
video of a beach in Fiji while
deadlines, responsibilities and
my problems sail overhead. But
my personal reality is that I’m
doomed to suffer through life
as a ball of perpetual stress. So
I do what I can and indulge in
what I’m able to afford in order
to stay afloat.
“The Sims 3” not only acts as
a safe, reliable medium for me
to channel my anxiety, but the
game also simulates the control
and security I need and desire
to contend with my anxiety.
From my own experience,
using something so simple —
some would say childish — as
a video game has prompted me
to reevaluate how video games
are marketed to audiences,
and for what purpose they’re
produced. A game like “The
Sims 3” is meant to provide
entertainment
—
I
highly
doubt any of the developers
considered the game as a
possible form of therapy for
players
with
high
anxiety
when they initially created
the game. But what if the
experiences video games are
intended to simulate didn’t
simply imitate life or distract
from it, but rather help the
players process and contend
with their own lives?
So often video games are
written off as being unhealthy,
addictive, pointless, childish
—
and
some
games
are
justly described as such. But
that doesn’t have to be the
reputation of the industry.
Recently,
arguments
have
been made for the role video
games could play in education,
bringing subjects like history
to life with virtual reality or
in-game educational lessons or
activities. So why can’t video
games be developed and used to
help people of all ages (gamers
or not) process and deal with
mental and emotional issues?
In an age when technology is
being integrated into nearly
every aspect of our lives, it’s
only logical to think that
mental and emotional health
and digital innovation may one
day intersect.
So, the next time you feel
like the world is crashing down
around you, try taking a page
from my book: Take a breath,
take a break and maybe boot-
up a decade-old 2007 iMac and
go build some “Fixer Upper”-
worthy kitchens that HGTV’s
Chip and Joanna Gaines would
be proud of.
Not only does
“The Sims 3”
simulate a deep
level of relaxation,
but playing the
game also allows
me to feel like I’m
in control
I love these
movies with all
that I am because
they make me feel
good
6B — Thursday, October 11, 2018
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com