I don’t know if someone, reading this blog, has made an idea of what kind of person I am. Maybe, an “old fashioned snob”, as I write every now and then (when a certain gentleman kindly leaves a little bit of room in my brain for something else – he’s quite overwhelmingly bulky) about art, or complicated books. But, I have to make a confession and admit in front of you which is my biggest guilty pleasure: silly romantic comedies. I just can help it, if I start to see one I can’t stop. Today my dear friend Tanja, who seems to have a radar to understand which tv series or film would suit me better in a specific moment, has sent me an e-mail with the link to “Austenland” (2013); I assume that this film can be used as cover for the definition of silly romantic comedy. It is very silly, and very romantic. I cannot resist watching this kind of films even if, for a lover of Jane Austen novels, this movie can be seen as a sacrilegious way to take Jane Austen’s name in vain. I guess I have seen almost everything shot the last years that has taken Ms. Austen or her work as an excuse: “Pride and Prejudice”, “Sense and Sensibility”, “Persuasion”, “The Jane Austen club book”, “Death comes to Pemberley” or “Lost in Austen”. This last is a serious competitor for the award of silliest romantic series of the decade, but I like it. I adore to sit in front of the computer for a while (the silly romantic movies are the exception for my rule “consume originals” I guess I don’t have a single DVD of this kind… blame it on the snob in me), wipe my mind of any idea and just sigh. When I am in my usual cynical mode I tell myself that all the women of the western hemisphere should make a sue against XIXth century novelists, Walt Disney and Daniele Steele for damages caused for “unlawful hope in the existence of prince charming”. I guess that I should have been a more serene teenager and young woman should I have not hoped, more or less consciously, to be the protagonist of “Pretty in Pink”. But, on the other hand, every now and then I tell myself: “I give up, this world sucks (turn on the news channel and you will have plenty of proves about it), but I want to dream”. About first sight loves, ideal worlds, gorgeous men with sideburns, breeches and neck-clothes who take you in your arms and declare that you are the most extraordinary creature that ever lived.
PS. Nevertheless all above I’m aware that the quiet grumpy man that now “suffers desperately for a summer flu”, who makes me laugh to tears almost daily, the one who puts me down to earth when I’m dreaming, it’s worth a thousand Darcys. Not only, but also, because he is real, and Mr. Darcy is not.