How to write a romantic movie

Had the chance to see NIGHTS IN RODANTHE. Not the kind of movie I usually watch but I was trapped on a plane and it stars Diane Lane. Based on the few movies of this weepy… excuse me, “romantic” genre I have been bored enough on long flights to see, I have managed to glean the formula. So if you’re about to write one, follow these easy steps to chick flick success.

Start with an attractive couple. He can be in his 50s, she can be in her 40s but only if she looks like she’s in her 30s.

Opening scene – she catches her husband cheating. Big emotional trauma. He begs forgiveness and vows never to screw any of her sisters again. You must cast a handsome but boring actor who can play weak.

She needs time to think.

She goes to a picturesque setting like Tuscany or a charming bed & breakfast by the sea. A few scenes of her shopping for vegetables and arranging flowers in her room. A best friend advises she’s got to loosen up, live a little, and of course she finds that out of the question. Better to window shop for clocks to keep track of your youth slipping away.

She meets a man. Handsome but with baggage. Widower, never married, or wife went nuts and became a Scientologist. Now you write 20 pages of exposition -- she must be artistically inclined, he’s misunderstood, and they’re both mourning a dead relative who meant so much to them. This is the “getting to know you” section. Have them bumping into each other at cafes, him helping her lift firewood, sharing a love for Dinah Washington, laughing over something incredibly lame like her plastic fork breaks.

During this section do not concern yourself with the fact that the audience knows exactly where this is going. Toss in a scene where they argue about something as a mislead but don’t dwell on it because no one’s buying it.

A big cinematic event must now take place. Hurricanes are good. Cossacks if your film has a more historical bent. Danger! Danger! Something brings them together and they kiss. Music swells. You’re halfway home.

Now comes the “happy-in-love” section. Scenes in the sack, natch. But don’t forget the walks along the beach hand in hand as they gaze mooney-eyed at each other.

They must go to the inevitable local festival. Here they dance, they laugh, they eat local delicacies. Whole new worlds are opening up for this crazy couple. She’s having fun for the first time in ages. They go off and kiss in the moonlight. Return to the sack.

Then the post coital glow scene. Still in bed, cuddling, making plans that will never come true because the audience hasn’t cried enough yet.

Here’s where it gets murky. Now you must create some bogus issue to split them up. Something to snap them back into reality. Here’s where kids come in very handy. One goes to the hospital. Mom wasn’t there. Guilt! Guilt! (preferred dialogue: She: “What am I doing? I can’t just run off and do this.” He: “Hey, you’re entitled to your own happiness.”) Other love buzz kills – he has to fly to Peru, her kids want daddy back, he still has feelings for Sarah Palin.

This is followed by the separation sequence. Long solitary walks along the beach (with close ups of the waves crashing of course), wandering through the quaint town, not stopping to watch the village idiot wiggle his ears for money.

Lean heavy on voice overs. They can always exchange letters. No line is too cloying, no thought too overwrought. “When I met you it was like I stepped out of a dream.” “You’ve given me the courage to love.” I’m sure you can find something a little more heavy-handed, but that’s the general idea.

Now it’s time for one of them to die. This chestnut has been a staple since LOVE STORY. The survivor now has at least five scenes of crying, remembering the good times (flashbacks required), moping, not eating or sleeping, and of course Dinah Washington wailing some heart tugging dirge. You might cap this with another voice over – the last letter is always the knockout punch. Lay it on thick here. “I’m counting the hours until we can start our life together”.

There won’t be a dry seat in the house.

But finally time passes, the children and friends rally around, the survivor realizes that he or she became a much better, more understanding, compassionate, enlightened, and sympathetic person as a result of the now-corpse. Her art is better, he sees Sarah Palin for who she is. So let the healing begin. Reprise a song from the festival, a shared moment, the coming of spring. Something to elicit a smile. Once you get to that smile, you’re done. Slap a confusing title like NIGHTS IN RODANTHE (what the hell does that even mean?) on it and you’re ready to see what Diane Lane and Richard Gere have on their plates for the fall.

Now you may think I’m a cynic. I’m not. I love a good romance. Just not one by the numbers. But those are what sells. So get busy. We’re running out of charming little towns. You don’t want to be stuck with Pismo Beach.

Happy Valentine’s Day.