WHayes, I love it, dude. It seems to me that your feelings toward Chasing Amy have arisen because you romanticized it. You heard witty and believable dialogue where there really was none. You were smitten, and when you realized that, it left a bitter taste in your mouth.
Holden must have felt about the same way when he realized how far behind Alyssa he was sexually, and as men tend to do, he tried to fix the "problem," rather than accepting things for how they are. Alyssa can revisit her sexually adventurous years as readily as we can rewrite Amy's contrived dialogue and remake a more "perfect" film.
But just because two people can virtually never totally reconcile themselves to each other doesn't mean you can't go right on loving the film as before, nor does it necessarily mean the book is closed on Holden and Alyssa's relationship. After all, the whole sappy, over-wrought point of Chasing Amy seems to be that no relationship can be perfect, and two people don't have to be "perfect for each other" to be in love.
I heard somewhere that love is all you need...
In the end, I guess we're left right where we started. Holden is going to have to fall in love with Alyssa all over again for exactly who she is (for real this time), and WHayes, you must do the same with Chasing Amy. It's the original bromantic comedy, after all.
And, in other news, I finally understand that wordless conversation Holden and Banky shared at the end of the film, thanks to the very charitable work of some very skilled linguists and sign language experts:
I'll keep this short, as I'm sure you people are tired of hearing me blab on about love and shit (I'll be talking about The Matrix next).
For Holden, the trouble with Alyssa is that she turns out to be a lesbian, but naturally he persists and is eventually successful in sparking a loving romantic relationship with her. This effectively alienates Banky, who feels their friendship threatened.
When Holden then learns of Alyssa's sexually adventurous past, it causes him to feel inadequate and inexperienced, which gives him cause to melodramatically call their otherwise thriving romance into question.
But he has a plan after all. Holden's instinct is to find a way to line his real life up with his ideal life floating around in his head (because the story must end with a "happily ever after"). The only way he sees to gain some experience, get closer with Alyssa, and simultaneously fill the rift between him and Banky is through a thoughtfully contrived threesome.
Holden must propose the idea to his best friend and girlfriend as they sit side-by-side on the couch, and I must say that Ben Affleck really nails the scene. Molding the world to fit his vision has clearly become a labor of love, and he can almost taste that greener grass.
Banky agrees, but Alyssa insists that part of her life is over, and she also won't share Holden with anyone. Holden's insistence that he needs the experience and his relationships will be better for it is now at the expense of Alyssa and Banky's reality. Creating an "unreal" version of themselves simply to appease Holden's desires is not only too much to ask of his friends, but it also creates an unreal resolution to a real problem.
Holden's plan drives the three apart in the end, and this makes way for a "one year later" prologue scene. At a comic signing, Holden spots Banky from across the room and the two share a wordless conversation that seems to say "not yet dude, but some day, time will heal these wounds."
Holden has poured his emotions and experience into a comic which overtly details his and Alyssa's story, and he hadn't even changed their names. The camera allows the viewer to see a panel dominated by the words "I'm sorry Alyssa, wherever you are," and Holden leaves the room having said what he came to say.
But what does this sappy overwrought comic book mean for Holden's character? Maybe relegating his failures to a fictional-feeling comic book can allow everyone to "close the book" on that part of their story together. Maybe Holden is a dynamic character after all, having realized that forcing his girlfriend and best friend into a contrived threesome was probably not the best idea.
Or maybe the sappy overwrought comic book represents a thriving obsession with his failed fantasy. Maybe Holden was hoping he'd be able to tell his kids that his awesome comic book changed things between him and Alyssa forever, and that he definitely hasn't crossed the line between thoughtful and fanatic.
It's unclear to me which is the case. Anyone care to comment?
Its a typical feeling: you watch a great movie, and can't wait to pop it in again. The second viewing opens new doors: since you know where the story leads, you can focus your attention on the journey. You pick up the little character quirks you hadn't seen before, notice easter eggs the director inserted as shout-outs to earlier films or beloved influences, and get to analyze how the actors conveyed the emotion that hit you with that hard twinge of empathy.
