Just Like Heaven (2005)

Directed by Mark Waters

I liked Just Like Heaven (2005) though I also found moments of frustration because it would lose the likeable elements sporadically with a weak moment. It’s a romantic comedy that, like The Holiday (2006), overstates its romance (at least in the third act). It also misses a few times on the comedy.

Yet overall, this is a good movie because for the most part it has a smart script, good direction and good performances. It’s just that those first two occasionally falter.

It uses a standard Hollywood movie type – the ghost story that isn’t scary but comedic as the ghost discovers to his or her alarm that they are dead and have to figure out where to go from there. The first clever little twist the movie employs is by making its ghost not a ghost.

Elizabeth (Reese Witherspoon) and David (Mark Ruffalo) in Just Like Heaven (2005).

Reese Witherspoon as Elizabeth isn’t dead. She’s in a coma following an accident. But her spirit has been shaken loose and is now wandering, rootless.

As a spirit, she goes to her old apartment where she meets Mark Ruffalo as David, a kind of gardener-landscape architect whose wife died two years earlier, a loss that has sent him into a depression that involves drinking and gloomy apathy.

Of course, the scenario is utterly unrealistic but, as Roger Ebert points out, “In a movie like this there is no logical reason for such matters. They simply are, and you accept them.”

Just Like Heaven is the same type of movie that 1937’s Topper belongs too. Where it differs is maintaining (and largely managing) the dark element implicit in the scenario, whereas Topper is indifferent to that aspect. I prefer the Topper approach but Just Like Heaven better reflects contemporary sensibility and is a kind of linchpin for its romantic element.

John Heder as Darryl, the guy with a certain psychic ability, explaining things to David (Mark Ruffalo) as Elizabeth (Reese Witherspoon) watches.

The movie works best in the first two acts where the romance between Elizabeth and David is underplayed and the jarring aspects of their situation are emphasized. I’ve seen at least one review where some scenes, such as those where Ruffalo is talking to Elizabeth but seen by other characters to be speaking to himself or an imaginary friend, as being old, clichéd scenes.

They’re correct in saying that some of those scenes don’t work well but they’re wrong in saying it is because they are old and clichéd. Those scenes can be incredibly funny – that is why they are often used (and humour is often about repetition). What is occasionally missing in those scenes is an understanding of what it is that makes them funny.

What is funny is not the character talking to seemingly nothing. The funny is in the reaction of other characters. Think of the old TV show The Beverly Hillbillies. The Clampett’s would do outrageous, absurd things that were funny but the real kicker was in the reactions of characters like Mr. and Mrs. Drysdale, which were often exaggerated, at least to a degree.

In Just Like Heaven I found such reactions generally understated by comparison and thus not nearly as funny as they could have been.

Elizabeth (Reese Witherspoon) entering her rooftop happy ending.

I also found that once the third act kicked in, while the comedy became wilder due to the situations, the movie was more interested in the romance. And when everything resolved in the manner of romantic comedies it was dragged out and over-emphasized (particularly visually).

Given the lighting, editing and camera work, the movie’s ending would have been cloyingly sweet were the actors not performing as well as they were.

So, once again we have a romantic comedy that is heavy handed with its romance and a bit frugal with its comedy, a not uncommon problem.

For the most part, though, this movie works far better than most and is worth watching.

As final note, one of the few supporting actors playing a character in the manner of characters you would find in classic romantic comedies, is Jon Heder as a kind of spacey, yet better-informed and intelligent than everyone else, psychic. His scenes are wonderful.

The Holiday (2006)

Directed by Nancy Meyers

This is one of those movies that exists in that overly populated twilight land of films that aren’t particularly good and aren’t particularly bad. The Holiday (2006) is just kind of there, inoffensive and forgettable.

It’s also one of those movies that is referred to as a romantic comedy (a rom-com) yet it isn’t all that funny and the romance is … well, treacly at best. It’s romantic only in the most superficial way.

It should be so much better given the cast it has (including Eli Wallach who, to some degree, steals the movie despite his age – or maybe because of it.)

An excited Iris (Kate Winslet) arrives in L.A. to see where she'll be living for the next two weeks.

The film’s problem appears to be that rather than have the romance develop out of the situations, the romance is imposed on the situations. The movie even has a scene where the “cute meet” of romantic comedies is referred to, yet the film’s “cute meets” (there are two, sort of) are not overly imaginative. They are simply functional.

On IMDb they provide this synopsis of the movie: “Two women troubled with guy-problems swap homes in each other’s countries, where they each meet a local guy and fall in love.”

The movie generally has a kind of paint-by-numbers approach to the rom-com formula and a pedestrian approach to characterization. Yes, the primary female characters of Amanda Woods (Cameron Diaz) and Iris Simpkins (Kate Winslet) are troubled and a good deal more comedy could have mined from this, I think.

Cameron Diaz as Amanda - possibly wondering this movie will ever get genuinely interesting.

But the film is more interested in romance of the sentimental variety. So the two women “each meet a local guy” and here is where the real trouble comes. The two guys are boring (Jude Law as Graham and Jack Black as Miles. It is worth noting that neither has a last name in the movie, possibly reflecting how undeveloped these characters are.)

In other words, the movie is not so much romantic comedy as it is romantic fantasy where it is not so much characters you get as it is caricatures.

There is little or no tension in the romantic relationships. Compare that to what you find in classic romantic comedies like The Philadelphia Story, When Harry Met Sally or The Shop Around the Corner.

With little tension, it is no surprise the comedic element is minimal. And it’s no surprise that the romance comes across as bland and predictable.

Iris and Arthur (Eli Wallach), the only interesting male character in the last two acts of the movie.

Given how the two women’s stories begin in The Holiday, the much more interesting male characters were Edward Burns’ Ethan and Rufus Sewell’s Jasper Bloom. Those two characters would have provided tension – the stuff of great romantic comedies. The colourless characters we get as the love interests (Graham and Miles) are the stuff of fantasy.

And that is where the movie goes off the rails.

As it is, The Holiday lives in the twilight land referred to above. It is watchable, thanks to the actors, but unremarkable. It’s a 21st century equivalent of a fairy tale where two princesses meet their princes and all of them live dully everafter.

Force of Arms (1951)

Directed by Michael Curtiz

Starring William Holden, 1951′s Force of Arms stands out simply because it doesn’t stand out at all. It is singularly bland, being neither a bit good nor a bit bad but just a whole lot of just okay.

In that sense it is “bad,” though I think that term should be used more judiciously. Here, we have a movie with a number of good elements but when they come together they don’t cohere into anything interesting. I suspect it is the kind of movie that was dreamt up to satisfy some studio goals but had no dramatic reason to be. So it feels uninspired.

And it didn’t help that just prior to seeing it I saw the movie’s two stars, William Holden and Nancy Olson, in another movie they made, the magnificent Sunset Boulevard.

Force of Arms is a movie that bounces between a war drama and a romance. Holden plays the hero with obstacles to overcome in both.

The war scenes (the battles) are well done though standard stuff. The romance scenes are … well, annoying at best. They don’t play well at all.

Nancy Olson as Lt. Eleanor MacKay and William Holden as Sgt. Joe 'Pete' Peterson.

They are weak primarily because Olson’s character, Lt. Eleanor MacKay, is weak and Olson is forced to play most of her scenes with a hang dog look or the look of someone on an interminable crying jag. You really just want her to shut up and go away. In the final scenes in particular her faced seemed etched in granite with the look of emotional devastation.

By contrast, in Sunset Boulevard she plays a character with both strength and determination, for the most part. Force of Arms doesn’t grant her this.

William Holden, on the other hand, is William Holden and essentially carries the movie. His presence is probably why the movie doesn’t come off as being awful; his performance tempers things making it at least somewhat palatable. Although it should also be said he, too, is forced to play a character that love turns into an emotional basket case.

Scene from Force of Arms (1951).

I think part of the movie’s intent was to show how war disrupts romance and life plans but what results is a movie that seems to be about how love makes people idiots and makes the horrors of war even worse.

As I write this and think of the movie, the more inclined I am to contradict what I began saying about the move: it is bad. It’s not bad in the unwatchable sense but it is in the wasted potential and in the fact that it ends up being nothing more than time wasted.

It is, however, visually good. The war scenes work well mixing scenes shot for the film with documentary footage and everything is well staged. It looks good in black and white with very nice cinematography by Ted McCord.

But in the end it winds up as wasted effort. It is an uninspired film rooted in a bland story.

Directed by Michael Curtiz

Starring William Holden, 1951′s Force of Arms stands out simply because it doesn’t stand out at all. It is singularly bland, being neither a bit good nor a bit bad but just a whole lot of just okay.

In that sense it is “bad,” though I think that term should be used more judiciously. Here, we have a movie with a number of good elements but when they come together they don’t cohere into anything interesting. I suspect it is the kind of movie that was dreamt up to satisfy some studio goals but had no dramatic reason to be. So it feels uninspired.

And it didn’t help that just prior to seeing it I saw the movie’s two stars, William Holden and Nancy Olson, in another movie they made, the magnificent Sunset Boulevard.

Force of Arms is a movie that bounces between a war drama and a romance. Holden plays the hero with obstacles to overcome in both.

The war scenes (the battles) are well done though standard stuff. The romance scenes are … well, annoying at best. They don’t play well at all.

Nancy Olson as Lt. Eleanor MacKay and William Holden as Sgt. Joe 'Pete' Peterson.

They are weak primarily because Olson’s character, Lt. Eleanor MacKay, is weak and Olson is forced to play most of her scenes with a hang dog look or the look of someone on an interminable crying jag. You really just want her to shut up and go away. In the final scenes in particular her faced seemed etched in granite with the look of emotional devastation.

By contrast, in Sunset Boulevard she plays a character with both strength and determination, for the most part. Force of Arms doesn’t grant her this.

William Holden, on the other hand, is William Holden and essentially carries the movie. His presence is probably why the movie doesn’t come off as being awful; his performance tempers things making it at least somewhat palatable. Although it should also be said he, too, is forced to play a character that love turns into an emotional basket case.

Scene from Force of Arms (1951).

I think part of the movie’s intent was to show how war disrupts romance and life plans but what results is a movie that seems to be about how love makes people idiots and makes the horrors of war even worse.

As I write this and think of the movie, the more inclined I am to contradict what I began saying about the move: it is bad. It’s not bad in the unwatchable sense but it is in the wasted potential and in the fact that it ends up being nothing more than time wasted.

It is, however, visually good. The war scenes work well mixing scenes shot for the film with documentary footage and everything is well staged. It looks good in black and white with very nice cinematography by Ted McCord.

But in the end it winds up as wasted effort. It is an uninspired film rooted in a bland story.

It’s one of those movies that manages to be flawed but good at the same time. You like it, but you have reservations about liking it.

The Male Animal (1942)

Directed by Elliott Nugent

As much as I enjoyed 1942′s The Male Animal, I found it damned peculiar. Starring Henry Fonda and Olivia de Havilland, I was never quite sure as I watched it just what kind of movie it was, or was trying to be.

It’s called a romantic comedy; you might even say it borders on screwball. But although there are many comic situations and comedic performances, there is also serious tone running through the movie; one that is political — almost. It almost plays as if it was Oliver Stone trying to be funny.

The problem with that is nothing kills humour faster than politics.

Olivia de Havilland and Henry Fonda as Ellen and Tommy Turner.

What the movie really is, is satire. It’s target is the sexes, particularly men (as the title suggests). Thus it is social satire.

However, it works a political thread into the mix so there is also some political satire as well.

Henry Fonda plays an obtuse and mild-mannered professor (Tommy Hunter) at Midwestern University where three professors have recently been fired as suspected communists.

Unaware of the significance of what he is doing, Prof. Turner has told a student he plans to read a letter written by Bartolomeo Vanzetti (of Saccho and Vanzetti fame) as an example of English composition.

The student publishes an inflammatory item in the student newspaper where he mentions this as an example of the kinds of professors the university needs, and Tommy is in trouble. He can either refuse to do what he has said (read the letter publicly) or lose his job.

Tommy passively (and infuriatingly) watches as he sees the disconnect between his cerebral approach to life and his wife's visceral needs.

In the meantime, his intellectual and passive approach to life has led him to ignore his wife, Ellen (Olivia de Havilland). Tommy’s troubles at the university coincide with troubles at home when an old flame of Ellen’s returns, Jack Carson as Joe Ferguson.

I’ve mentioned previously that I have problems seeing Henry Fonda in comic roles but in this case he is perfect for the kind of buttoned up man he is playing. Prof. Turner is infuriatingly persistent in his determination to intellectualize relationships and find explanations in theories.

Meanwhile, he is married to a woman (de Havilland) who is far more visceral than he is and is starved for attention that isn’t an intellectual argument. Carson’s Joe fits that role perfectly.

Written by Julius and Philip Epstein, based on a James Thurber play, the movie nicely plays the political and social (relationships) themes back and forth and together, satirizing both.

Tommy’s problems on the home front take over his attention; his letter reading decision takes a backseat as he is consumed with a jealousy he refuses to acknowledge. Relationships should be reasoned, he argues. That is the civilized approach — despite the evidence of what he feels and that is staring him in the face.

Prof. Tommy Turner and student Michael Barnes (Herbert Anderson) get thoroughly drunk trying to figure out relationships.

It culminates in Tommy getting thoroughly drunk and finally admitting he needs to step forward as “the male animal” he is and set things right physically, viscerally, sans intellect.

Eventually he addresses the political dimension of his problems, facing off against a blustery Eugene Pallette as Ed Keller, head of the trustees that are bent on ridding the university of communists and anything else that doesn’t play into their worldview.

It’s a bit surprising this movie made it through to the screens. It came out roughly five years before the Hollywood blacklist was brought in so I imagine the atmosphere must have been a charged one, even though the movie’s release would have been in the early period of the communist frenzy (and attention would have been focused on World War II).

This is a brave and earnest little movie and while not the best it is still a pretty good comedy. Earnestness tends to denude movies and books of their emotional appeal but that isn’t the case here. If it suffers from anything it is that sense of peculiarity that exists in it, particularly in the first half. It feels as if it can’t make up its mind how serious or comic it wants to be.

But it is interesting in its way, partly for what it might have been and partly for the sight of good actors (Grant and Kerr) working with material that lacks cogency. They appear alternately stiff and bored.

Dream Wife (1953)

Directed by Sidney Sheldon

This 1953 movie, Dream Wife, is confused at best. It has two big stars — Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr — who would later be brought together for 1957′s An Affair to Remember. It gives the impression of not knowing what to do with them but it’s a false impression.

It knows how to use its stars; it just doesn’t have anything to use them in. This is because apart from a superficially amusing idea — Cary Grant wants to marry; Deborah Kerr is too busy — it doesn’t know what it is about.

So we end up with a muddle.

Frankly, while he provides some very good moments, Cary Grant mostly looks frustrated by the realization he is in a muddle.

Betta St. John as Tarji, Cary Grant as Clemson Reade and Deborah Kerr as Effie -- all looking helpless in a confused script.

Kerr, on the other hand, appears to be doing the British “stiff upper lip” thing, moving through the film with aplomb despite the jumble.

It’s probably a more frustrating movie to today’s audience than to an audience of the early 1950s. It tackles relationships between men and women by what would then have been a role reversal. It isn’t a woman trying to get a man to finally marry; it’s the man trying to get married.

But his reasons are self-centred masculine ones. Grant’s Clemson Reade is romantic because he wants a wife to care for him, clean his house and generally devote her entire life to his wants and needs.

Kerr, unfortunately, is more practical and business-like and, most importantly, a feminist. She has no intention of devoting her life to caring for “her man.” She makes repeated references to women in history and how she, and all women, are free.

In response, Grant finds a princess from another country who has been raised for just one thing: caring for the man she marries. Her life has no meaning beyond that. Through a series of comic scenes, Grant discovers marrying such a woman (from a foreign land with different customs) is not so easy. And a woman with the devotion he wants isn’t quite the wonderful thing it seems.

Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr in a mistaken identity moment, Grant looking stiff and awkward, Kerr looking as if she's just realzed what a mess she is in.

And on it goes. The movie would have been a surprisingly feminist one had it continued along the line it heads down. But it trips up and becomes disappointingly anti-feminist when Grant and Kerr begin to reconcile and Kerr realizes that she does want to devote herself to a man. It just has to be the right man. In this case, that man is Grant.

This is one of those films that unwittingly ventures into social and cultural politics and, because it does and because it is unaware of this, creates confusion as it starts going one way then changes direction to reflect the attitudes of the period.

It’s just too in love with its one joke — Cary Grant trying to get married within a context of different cultures colliding — and never thinks anything through.

It’s just a muddle.

Directed by Sidney Sheldon

This 1953 movie, Dream Wife, is confused at best. It has two big stars — Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr — who would later be brought together for 1957′s An Affair to Remember. It gives the impression of not knowing what to do with them but it’s a false impression.

It knows how to use its stars; it just doesn’t have anything to use them in. This is because apart from a superficially amusing idea — Cary Grant wants to marry; Deborah Kerr is too busy — it doesn’t know what it is about.

So we end up with a muddle.

Frankly, while he provides some very good moments, Cary Grant mostly looks frustrated by the realization he is in a muddle.

Betta St. John as Tarji, Cary Grant as Clemson Reade and Deborah Kerr as Effie -- all looking helpless in a confused script.

Kerr, on the other hand, appears to be doing the British “stiff upper lip” thing, moving through the film with aplomb despite the jumble.

It’s probably a more frustrating movie to today’s audience than to an audience of the early 1950s. It tackles relationships between men and women by what would then have been a role reversal. It isn’t a woman trying to get a man to finally marry; it’s the man trying to get married.

But his reasons are self-centred masculine ones. Grant’s Clemson Reade is romantic because he wants a wife to care for him, clean his house and generally devote her entire life to his wants and needs.

Kerr, unfortunately, is more practical and business-like and, most importantly, a feminist. She has no intention of devoting her life to caring for “her man.” She makes repeated references to women in history and how she, and all women, are free.

In response, Grant finds a princess from another country who has been raised for just one thing: caring for the man she marries. Her life has no meaning beyond that. Through a series of comic scenes, Grant discovers marrying such a woman (from a foreign land with different customs) is not so easy. And a woman with the devotion he wants isn’t quite the wonderful thing it seems.

Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr in a mistaken identity moment, Grant looking stiff and awkward, Kerr looking as if she's just realzed what a mess she is in.

And on it goes. The movie would have been a surprisingly feminist one had it continued along the line it heads down. But it trips up and becomes disappointingly anti-feminist when Grant and Kerr begin to reconcile and Kerr realizes that she does want to devote herself to a man. It just has to be the right man. In this case, that man is Grant.

This is one of those films that unwittingly ventures into social and cultural politics and, because it does and because it is unaware of this, creates confusion as it starts going one way then changes direction to reflect the attitudes of the period.

It’s just too in love with its one joke — Cary Grant trying to get married within a context of different cultures colliding –  and never thinks anything through.

It’s just a muddle.

Nora (Myrna Loy) shows Nick (William Powell) she has picked up a few tricks of the trade from him.

Romances are usually about the obstacles a couple goes through in order to be together and they end with the pair finally uniting with the implication they will now be happy. United, they will live “happily ever after.”

William Powell and Myrna Loy as Nick and Nora Charles in the Thin Man movies show us the couple united and what life is like now that they are.

Together and happy, life is comedy. The movies aren’t romances; that part of their story has played out. (We never are shown this. The movies start after that has happened.)

The appeal of Nick and Nora is that they are united – they’re married – and they are living that happy life implied by the endings of romances. This is something audiences rarely see, certainly not seen so well articulated and charming.

The murder mystery element of the movies is key but only as an engine to allow their happy life to play out. It provides an engine to move the story forward and to provide a context within which we can see Nick and Nora behave as a happy couple.

The movies work individually but when seen as a series and in the order in which they came out they also show us their happy life evolve over time. And the way it evolves is telling. Specifics change. They look a bit older; they have a baby; the baby becomes a child … and so on.

But their relationship and what characterizes it doesn’t change. The essence of Nick and Nora as a couple remains the same.

The comedy is a mix of three elements, the ratios of which alter to varying degrees from film to film. It combines wit, slapstick and screwball/farce. The wit dominates throughout, though the other two elements are stronger in the later films.

The significance of the wit (apart from being fun to hear and see so well executed) is that it gives us Nick and Nora as equals, even in the later films when Loy’s Nora starts being presented as more of a sidekick to Nick than a partner.

The slapstick and farce elements, apart from providing some variation in the humour, allows the movies to keep the pair in check, especially Nick. He has to be clever but, whenever he starts to appear a little too clever and maybe not “a regular guy,” it’s slapstick that steps in to put him back in place (and in some cases, keep Nora in place).

Nick and Nora (William Powell and Myrna Loy).

Over a period of 13 years, William Powell and Myrna Loy had a wonderful run with their series of Thin Man movies. In all, there were six.

Although “the thin man” in the original movie, and the Dashiell Hammett novel that was the springboard for the movies, referred to a mysterious character, Clyde Wynant, (who doesn’t even appear in the original novel as I recall), in the movies “the thin man” came to refer to Nick Charles, William Powell’s character.

As movie series go, The Thin Man proved to be one of the most successful ever. And the team of William Powell and Myrna Loy worked so well that not only did they make six movies as Nick and Nora Charles, they made eight others together for a total of fourteen movies. But it is as the Charles’s in these Thin Man movies, where they are living the “happily ever after” life, that they are known best and most fondly for.

The Thin Man Series:

• The Thin Man (1934)
• After the Thin Man (1936)
• Another Thin Man (1939)
• Shadow of the Thin Man (1941)
• The Thin Man Goes Home (1945)
• Song of the Thin Man (1947)

Nick and Nora at play.

Nora (Myrna Loy) shows Nick (William Powell) she has picked up a few tricks of the trade from him.

The series of Thin Man movies answers the question, “What does happily ever after look like?”

Romances are usually about the obstacles a couple goes through in order to be together and they end with the pair finally uniting with the implication they will now be happy. United, they will live “happily ever after.”

William Powell and Myrna Loy as Nick and Nora Charles in the Thin Man movies show us the couple united and what life is like now that they are.

Together and happy, life is comedy. The movies aren’t romances; that part of their story has played out. (We never are shown this. The movies start after that has happened.)

The appeal of Nick and Nora is that they are united – they’re married – and they are living that happy life implied by the endings of romances. This is something audiences rarely see, certainly not seen so well articulated and charming.

The murder mystery element of the movies is key but only as an engine to allow their happy life to play out. It provides an engine to move the story forward and to provide a context within which we can see Nick and Nora behave as a happy couple.

The movies work individually but when seen as a series and in the order in which they came out they also show us their happy life evolve over time. And the way it evolves is telling. Specifics change. They look a bit older; they have a baby; the baby becomes a child … and so on.

But their relationship and what characterizes it doesn’t change. The essence of Nick and Nora as a couple remains the same.

The comedy is a mix of three elements, the ratios of which alter to varying degrees from film to film. It combines wit, slapstick and screwball/farce. The wit dominates throughout, though the other two elements are stronger in the later films.

The significance of the wit (apart from being fun to hear and see so well executed) is that it gives us Nick and Nora as equals, even in the later films when Loy’s Nora starts being presented as more of a sidekick to Nick than a partner.

The slapstick and farce elements, apart from providing some variation in the humour, allows the movies to keep the pair in check, especially Nick. He has to be clever but, whenever he starts to appear a little too clever and maybe not “a regular guy,” it’s slapstick that steps in to put him back in place (and in some cases, keep Nora in place).

Nick and Nora (William Powell and Myrna Loy).

Over a period of 13 years, William Powell and Myrna Loy had a wonderful run with their series of Thin Man movies. In all, there were six.

Although “the thin man” in the original movie, and the Dashiell Hammett novel that was the springboard for the movies, referred to a mysterious character, Clyde Wynant, (who doesn’t even appear in the original novel as I recall), in the movies “the thin man” came to refer to Nick Charles, William Powell’s character.

As movie series go, The Thin Man proved to be one of the most successful ever. And the team of William Powell and Myrna Loy worked so well that not only did they make six movies as Nick and Nora Charles, they made eight others together for a total of fourteen movies. But it is as the Charles’s in these Thin Man movies, where they are living the “happily ever after” life, that they are known best and most fondly for.

The Thin Man Series:

• The Thin Man (1934)
• After the Thin Man (1936)
• Another Thin Man (1939)
• Shadow of the Thin Man (1941)
• The Thin Man Goes Home (1945)
• Song of the Thin Man (1947)

Nick and Nora at play.

Hondo Lane and Angie Lowe (John Wayne and Geraldine Page).

Never one to be accused of political correctness, John Wayne’s films involving love often co-starred Maureen O’Hara, feisty but ultimately submissive.

Yet Wayne was in quite a few romantic movies and often they were very good.

In many, however, the romance wasn’t quite what we would consider our kind of romance.

Some just seem plain wrong. (See, for example, 1963′s McLintock!)

Many of these co-starred a feisty Maureen O’Hara in a contentious relationship that ended in slapstick battling, O’Hara coming out on the short end as the submissive woman.

The best of those is The Quiet Man, John Ford’s gem from 1952. It’s one of those movies you watch thinking, “That’s all wrong,” yet you love the film despite its questionable portrayal of relationships.

However, of all the John Wayne movies that were romances or involved romance as a major element, I think Hondo from 1953 is the clear winner because it is the most realistic, the most understated and most true.

The likely reason, in part, is because in the short list I made below it is the only one that is a drama, not a comedy. Of course, it’s also because it’s a very good movie.

The list below is off the top of my head.

John Wayne and romance:

• A Lady Takes a Chance (1943)
• Without Reservations (1946)
• The Quiet Man (1952)
• Hondo (1953)
• Trouble Along the Way (1953)
• North to Alaska (1960)
• Donovan’s Reef (1963)
• McLintock! (1963)

Which ones have I missed? Let me know in the comments. Thanks!