On tension ...

You know those classical Hollywood romances where there’s that one climactic kissing scene with that sweet violin music in the background? You know the one. Two lovers are looking at each other with passion, and they’re spewing out lines that are direct but growing in heat with each vowel. The woman’s voice becomes weak as she tilts her head up, the man’s voice starts to form broken sentences as he tilts his head down. The violin becomes choppier and then smooth and then strikes each moment they get closer. The lovers keep throwing one-liners back at each other until the heat and their strangely tilted faces can’t take it anymore that they have to move into a soft kiss.

Have you ever noticed those kisses?

How the actors heads are tilted so much, how their lips barely brush each other, and then suddenly the kiss becomes more intense by more tiltage of the head. And just when you thought that a head couldn’t tilt up or down any more than that, they deepen the kiss and the woman brings her face down for even more tilting. Oh and then there’s the face rubbing. So it’s not really like kissing. It’s like they kind of rub their faces back and forth like the woman’s lip is a shoe brush or something. “Oh hold on, let me clean your lips with mine dear. It’s romantic.” Oh and then it’s as if the woman will fall on her face if she is not being held by him right there. His lips are literally keeping her standing.

Let me show you what I mean:



See as much as I like those kisses and those movies, they can never beat the British. For me British romances and PBS book to miniseries specials hold a dear place in my heart. I think I get this from my mother, who watches them religiously. If I were watching a random British PBS romantic miniseries and wasn’t familiar with it, my mom would fill me in with the history, telling me all about it whilst expressing how shocked she is that I didn’t know anything about this particular series. She would give me an “Oh Chrissy, no no no, you must watch it”.
I was actually named after a character in one of these adaptations. So, we’re meant to be. I suppose I love them because they’re so heated. No one ever gets along easily. There’s always tension between the two main characters, and it makes for a very interesting encounter. They butt heads, but are equal. I freaking love it. It’s addicting. Here’s what I mean. This scene is one of the hottest scenes ever. In the history of scenes:



I mean come on! Just look at them! They’re all wet, and he’s all confess-y. Plus the way he says that he loves her, “I love you. Most ardently” What’s even better is that she jumps down his neck. Angry and confused because she loves him too. Then when he steps closer to her, and she rejects him, but then just as he’s about to leave it looks like he’s going to kiss her and then forms a pained expression. Oh and then she has to fall back on the pillar to take it all in. Yea take that all in Elizabeth Bennet. It’s just perfection. It’s so British, and it’s so good. I mean this is a heated battle, just think about the sex they must have when they finally do get together. Yes I am laughing at myself while I type this. However, it’s what I find to be way better than the violins and the constant head tilting. I think because it’s honest, and it shows how scary love can be. It shows how scary realizing how much you can care for someone is, and how much you have to look inside of yourself to find the answers after someone screams them to your face. Oh and then there’s this one:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pqidX_5ZsLg

He’s so hot. Mr. Darcy might be the perfect man because of how flawed he is. I love flaws. He’s attractive because he doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s vulnerable yet stubborn. Oh and it helps that she’s so fucking gorgeous too. Oh god and the sun in between them. Perfection. And the walking, and the piano, and the walking, and her face as he approaches, and the walking. It’s glorious.

So see, I love classic Hollywood. I love the soft glow of the women, the cocky men, and the grand scale of it all, but give me the English countryside, conflicts of class, and broody men who finally realize what they want and I am there. I’m a sucker for it, and proud.

So for the Elizabeth Bennett’s, the Jo March’s, the Beatrice’s, the Joey Potter’s, and Hermione Granger’s of the world, I can so relate to you, and your stories are the ones I choose to love the most.