You've Got Mail

Director: Nora Ephron
Cast:
Tom Hanks
Meg Ryan
Greg Kinnear
Parker Posey
Dave Chappelle
Genre: Romance

A chick flick to be sure, and moreover, I think that us guys may possess chromosomes that make us allergic to stuff like this. But Nora Ephron always has a few well-placed retorts left in her, and "You've Got Mail" isn't entirely unwatchable for those folks who'd rather be scratching themselves while watching Carolina play Florida State.

Meg Ryan is a cute little children's bookseller, employing a likable cast of indie-minded scribe hounds, toiling away in a wood-infused store that has been in the family for years. Tom Hanks is the super bookstore Barnes & Noble-esque chain magnate who is moving his literary Wal-Mart into the neighborhood. They're enemies, but that's not the hook; the idea is that they've already met anonymously over email, falling in love with each other like everyone on email does, using each other's advice to conquer their foes, even if the foe happens to be the other.

Email romance is fascinating—at no other time in human history have we been allowed to meet people backwards. In real life, you first see someone's looks, then their pleasantries, then their intellect, then their soul. On email, that process is exactly reversed. Developing an email crush is easier than liking sugar cereal; it almost seems like we're prepossessed to LOVE the person whose writing and wit we admire.

Which is all well and good for "You've Got Mail" until they "meet." Because in real life, you are ALWAYS horrified with the person you've met online; they will never live up to your expectations because you never knew what those expectations were. Nothing prepares you for how shallow your requirements for a mate are, even if you fancy yourself a sensitive intellectual. Even the fact that they breathe oxygen—something that wasn't apparent over email—can be enough to give you fits of revulsion. But this is a movie, and in movies, people are irrepressibly cute, and natch, Tom falls for Meg just like he did in the last scene of "Sleepless in Seattle." After Tom figures out who Meg is (while she remains clueless as to his identity), the results are somewhat sexist, a little unfair and vaguely unsatisfying. We're left to play the "when's she gonna figure it out?" game until the end, when the whole thing just seems a little too clever. I mean, how many times can we see plots like this peppered with jokes about "Starbucks"? I say about two more times before I really do go watch the Carolina game instead.

—Ian Williams

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