Ghost and Mrs Muir
I'm going to take a moment to wax pleasantly about The Ghost and Mrs Muir, which I found for cheap last night. This is one of those movies my mom and I bonded over when I was a kid. It's a film version of an old gothic romance, and hits all the right notes for me. It's got a strong woman (Mrs. Muir) and a dark and broody man (The Ghost). You can get all the creepy stalker fantasies of Twilight (He watches her do pretty much everything, since in fairness, it's not like he has anything else to do) without the wimpy women or implied violence. I suppose, in theory, The Ghost could inflict some emotional damage, but being non-corporeal, there's not much else he can do. And his rages just slide off Lucy like water on oilcloth. One of my favorite bits is when he's yelling at her for chopping down his monkey-puzzle tree. I love him for having a monkey tree, but I also love her for making the house hers. After all, he's dead, and if he doesn't like what she's doing to the house that is now hers, he can just move on. (This movie is also a good banner-carrier for the need to have a proper will. You never know when you're going to kick the gas-valve while you're sleeping.)
It's a romance, but at the same time, it's not. Their relationship is based entirely on friendship and learning to respect each other. He's too crotchety for any proper romantic scenes, and in any case, the movie actively subverts that sort of romanticism, basically saying that blunt honesty and mutual respect is better than fluffy condescension and kisses in a flower garden.
It's a romance, but at the same time, it's not. Their relationship is based entirely on friendship and learning to respect each other. He's too crotchety for any proper romantic scenes, and in any case, the movie actively subverts that sort of romanticism, basically saying that blunt honesty and mutual respect is better than fluffy condescension and kisses in a flower garden.