I have a weird thing about place, season, and the things I read/watch. Sometimes when it’s Christmas, you just have to watch a holiday movie, sure. But for the bulk of December, I need Lawrence of Arabia. And Top Gun. And other movies involving hot weather and sand. Sure, I read A Moveable Feast on a Parisian vacation, but also le Carre and Hurston. And the right choice for today — when it’s 90 with 90% humidity and loads of golden sunshine — is, I think, a romantic comedy that starts during the holiday shopping rush. I’m speaking of course of one of the only good Hollywood romantic comedies of the past fifteen years, Serendipity.
After the ultimate meet cute, John Cusack and Kate Beckinsale share a lovely New York evening. They’re both involved with other people, but … but nothing. Refusing to give him her number or her name, Beckinsale sends a book out into the cosmic void with her contact info and calls it a night. Years later, they’ve both moved on. Until Cusack finds the book.
Now, I have issues with the film’s misreading of Love in the Time of Cholera (see my Goodreads review here), but it’s impossible to have issues with John Cusack. John Cusack in all the movies, I say. Even Kate Beckinsale manages to be charming, and she gives us access to John Corbett doing a Yanni impression and Molly Shannon being hilarious. It’s all sweet, lovely, and serendipitous. And if you need an anecdote to summer, I commend it to you tonight.
Emma Barry 