The Notebook: why would you watch this movie?

Whoa, whoa, whoa.

Before you ladies get all crazy ... wait. Nevermind. I don't think there are more than a handful of you reading this, anyway. Let me get back on task ...

I cannot believe anyone would voluntarily put themselves through this movie more than once. In my earlier days, I held this position simply because it's a *chick flick* in every way a movie could possibly be one. In my new, more knowledgeable and open mind, I think this purely based on the fact that I just watched the last thirty-or-so minutes of this movie on television. My more knowledgeable and open mind tells me this is far and away the most depressing movie in existence and that I would rather be subjected to a variety of antiquated tortures and ritualistic procedures than ever watch this again, or in totality.

Cute old people sharing stories about love. Lost, sometimes unrequited love at that. Rachel McAdams being all hot and stuff. Then, you find out that this old dude is actually telling his wife the story of their own love, but she has Alzheimer's and can't remember it for more than five minutes, so he comes to visit and tells the story to her every day, even though she won't remember it by the time he leaves.

Wow. Pass the popcorn, please. Instead of extra butter, maybe they could sprinkle it with some Prozac, just to take the edge off.

You know what else strikes me about this movie? James Marsden. In what movie that he's been in, that is also what any sane person would call a good one, does he not get the shaft from the woman he loves? He has to compete with the most bad ass of bad asses, Wolverine, for the affections of Jean Grey ... and kind of loses (she freakin' kills him). He has to compete with an indestructible, leaping-shit-in-a-single-bound, greatest-super-hero-of-all-time man in Superman ... no way he can work that out. Now, in The Notebook, he's dealing with a dude with some serious game. Game serious enough to score him Rachel McAdams not only when she has to do it for the script, but in real life too. Did I already mention how hot she is?

My point is that James Marsden needs a new agent. Following his cinematic love life is the equivalent of being a Boston Red Sox fan pre-2004. So close, yet so disappointing.

Oh yeah, and The Notebook is depressing.