Studying film during the pandemic has had its difficulties. I have taken for granted the experience of sitting in Innis Town Hall with my colleagues, all of us varying levels of exhausted, and collectively watching something. Yes, I’ll admit, I have fallen asleep during an embarrassing number of screenings throughout my film undergrad. But when I was awake, it was a darn good time being in that room!
When we watched Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham,my entire class and I were dancing in our seats and lusting over Hrithik Roshan. When we saw Black Narcissus,we gasped in shock as we watched a nun get horny and evil. During a silent screening of old erotica films, someone started blasting George Michael’s “Careless Whisper”—followed by Travis Scott’s “Sicko Mode.” This is to say: I did not realize how greatly my viewing experiences were shaped by my fellow spectators until it came time to watch everything on my own.
Over the last year, it has gotten increasingly harder to press the play button. Mind you, I just finished binge-rewatching the first ten seasons of Grey’s Anatomy. Along with ten seasons of the British game show Taskmaster. The K-drama Crash Landing On You. A disturbing number of true crime and cult documentaries. And the architecture show The World’s Most Extraordinary Homes. Every single Say Yes to the Dress clip you can find online (Aunty Gok at Lancashire is superior).
But it’s hard to press the button when it comes to content that I am meant to discuss and dissect for my degree. My body is so tired. My mind is so tired. And I am scared that if I force myself to continue watching these films, I will end up hating the very medium I have chosen to pursue.
But I will figure it out. In the meantime, I’ll turn to the things that comfort and warm me. I will turn to a romantic comedy that combines all of my favourite things. Sandra Bullock—check. The hot dad from Casper (I’m sorry Mr. Bill Pullman, but that’s how I knew you as a child)—check. Misunderstandings and chaotic drama that could’ve probably been solved if people freaking communicated with one another—check.
In 1995, some act of fate put all of these things together and the result was While You Were Sleeping. The film tells the story of a young and lonely Sandy Bullock (Lucy) working for the Chicago Transit Authority. It is there that she meets and pines over a seemingly perfect man: the sexy dad from The O.C. (Peter Gallagher, also named Peter in the film). He has no idea who she is, but she rescues him from getting run over by a train on Christmas, and he quickly slips into a coma.
But how can they fall in love if he’s in a coma!? Oh, baby.
When she accompanies him to the hospital, something compels good old Sandy to be vocal about her crush. Much like the act of being horny on your main Twitter account, Sandy stands in the public halls of the hospital and says: “Oh… I was gonna marry him.”
Welcome to a delicious mess.
Of course, a nurse hears this proclamation and assumes that Sandy is his fiancée. Of course, the coma hottie’s chaotic family swiftly arrives. Of course, turns out coma hottie is kind of a conceited big shot who doesn’t keep in touch with his family. Of course, they don’t know anything about a fiancée, but they instantly love Sandy (who wouldn’t?). Of course, Sandy’s character has just been so lonely for the past while, and this guy’s family just invited her over for Christmas, so she figures that they can clear everything up once coma hottie awakens from his coma.
Of course, coma hottie ends up having a brother: funny lumberjack hottie (Jack). His voice is deep. His hair is thick and perfect, swept aside casually. He crafts wooden furniture. He wears one humble coat throughout the entire film (it’s reversible).
Nothing about what I’ve described warrants a ground-breaking romcom. In fact, everything that occurs is mundane. There is no major public declaration of affection, nor a secret letter that clears everything up. The love story is found in tiny moments of connection, moments that I assure you have occurred throughout all of our lives. My favourite scene occurs halfway through the film: Jack and Lucy have been walking during a cold Chicago evening, and they encounter a large patch of ice in front of Lucy’s apartment. It is no exotic beach that they run towards each other on, or bookshop where they leave secret letters. It is on a patch of ice like many others, where they giggle and slip and entangle.
The moment is preceded by a normal walk through a big and sometimes dirty city. The moment is followed by a silly and awkward goodbye. It makes me joyful to watch a story develop its romance through quiet and human happenings, through the most mundane of messes.
And as I figure out how to sit through the films that I am tasked to watch, I am comforted to know that when it gets overwhelming, I have something to turn to… a movie with an orchestra of chaos that keeps me engaged and entertained, with a love story simple enough to imagine it happening right on my street.
