wedding list.

As Frederick Frog mentioned, he and I have exchanged lists as part challenge, part wicked plan to expose our personalities via film before our wedding this September. My movies are fairly feminine, having a lot more to do with an interesting plot idea about women/children than stellar filmmaking or groundbreaking work (the exceptions being Harlan County, USA and perhaps Don't Eat the Pictures). Many of his are guy films - westerns, horror, stories of lone men out to seek revenge for their countrymen and maybe shoot some other dudes in the face on the way.

But what's weird is that neither of us are especially typical of our presented genders, nor are we beholden to some sort of binary gender code that means he'll behave a certain way as a husband and I as a wife. In fact, he bakes a MUCH better chocolate chip cookie than I do. And for a time, I was the one with the salaried, khaki-pants position. When it comes time for laundry to be done, he's the one to separate the delicates from the dryer-safe, and I'll gather my strewn clothing from the bathroom floor.

The gender dynamics beyond that may be better fodder for a post over at Moxie Does It, but on Blunderbuss, it's almost all about the moviewatching. I have a BA in film studies, and

Frederick's knowledge of film is so vast I often call him the Internet Movie Data Brain. But we approach moviewatching in completely different ways.

I've seen three of the movies from his assigned list (Halloween [1978], The Gold Rush, and Starship Troopers), and he's seen four from mine (Bend it Like Beckham, Lost & Delirious, White Oleander, and Harlan County, USA). Though there are several movies on each list yet to be seen, we've realized that we never choose movies for the same reasons.

He likes movies that will be spectacular - whether with tight, meaningful cinematography, excellent makeup effects, amazing violence or superb crashes. He wants to see things on the screen that would be impossible (at least, without major injuries) in real life. And coupled with that, his encyclopedic categorization of filmmakers gives him this astonishing ability to say, "Oh, dude, Taylor Hackford directed this? Okay, I'll give it a shot."

I, on the other hand, even with my looming student loan debt a monthly reminder of my diploma, rarely consider the screenwriter, production company, or even the director when

making my film choices. It might have a far-off cry in the back of my mind, but I'm much more likely to think, "Ooh, this is a film about a woman who might be a murderer reconciling with her long-lost daughter on a remote island in Maine? Coooool, let's watch it." Similarly, I've gone on a Will Arnett binge that means I've recently seen Blades of Glory as well as The Brothers Solomon and am patiently awaiting the Netflix arrival of The Waiting Game, with very little regard as to whether these movies might be good (and to Frederick's chagrin, they are not).

All of this still doesn't explain why I might have something so atrocious as Lost & Delirious on my list, though. Watching it again with Frederick - and out of the context that drew me to see it originally - I cringed, knowing it was irredeemably awful. The acting is dismal, the dialogue clunky.

But, it's a lesbian drama that unfolds at a Canadian girls' boarding school!! Starring Piper Perabo and the woman who played Aunt Hetty on Road to Avonlea!! COME ON!

I'm equally an admirer of fantastic framing and breathtaking shots, but I'm finally willing to admit that I'm usually going to choose a story that passes the Bechdel Test over one that, well, looks like a good film.

It's a sad state of affairs that I need to make that choice.

And, especially for Frederick, it's perplexing. Some great films have been made with stories that interest me, certainly (Ratcatcher being one of my favorites), but why can't a film be both? Where is the Citizen Kane of the intimate family drama?