real life

Rosie Reviews: 'The Notebook'. While very, very drunk.

LOVE IS DEAD. For me.

By ROSIE WATERLAND

Okay so last night I got drunk and watched The Notebook. I debated whether or not to admit to you that I was drunk, but once I read back over my (literary genius-level) notes, I realised it was probably for the best that I be upfront about it. I fell in love with a vodka bottle called Vladimir. I really need to get out more.

Here it is:

So we open on some nursing home. It looks like one of those big plantation houses from 12 Years A Slave, which is kind of a coincidence since it’s filled with over-worked black staff looking after rich old white people.

It looks like we’re focussing on an old white couple but I’m too drunk to remember their names so I’m just going to go with Old Dude and Old Lady. Old Dude seems legit – still has a functioning brain etc. Old Lady does not – she’s all: “Where am I? Who are you? Why are we paying the black people?” etc.

Old Dude seems really keen on getting into Old Lady’s pants. But he’s a gentleman, and her brain is like mine after 8 vodkas (ie right now), so he’s trying to romance her first by reading her a story. She likes the story. We know this because she keeps staring blankly out the window and saying, “I like this story.” (To which Old Dude is thinking, “Yeah. But not as much as you’d like SEXY-TIMES, amiright?” Oh god. I’m drunk.)

The Notebook + vodka + Saturday night = depressed Rosie = more vodka.

So because nobody wants to see old people hook up, the movie cuts over into the land of the story that Old Dude is reading. It’s 1940-something. I didn’t quite catch the exact year but all the guys are wearing braces with their pants and all the girls have hair-roller hair, so use your detective skills and do with that information what you will.

We’re at a carnival. Ryan Gosling sees Rachel McAdams laughing in slow-motion on a bumper car. IT’S LOVE.

He asks her out, but he’s a poor boy and she’s a rich girl, so she says no. Then he climbs on a ferris wheel to prove his love for her and she believes him and they go to the movies AND ALL THE LOVE HAPPENS.

Already this is more romantic than every relationship I’ve ever had. Maybe if someone had climbed on a ferris wheel for me I wouldn’t be at home on Saturday night, getting drunk and writing dick jokes about The Notebook. Excuse me while I drown that thought with another vodka.

So now we have a montage of Ryan Gosling and Rachel Mac (McAdams hard to drunk-type, so I’m not doing it anymore) being in love in the 40s. Being in love in the 40s apparently involves riding a bike together, going to the beach and having passionate fights next to old-timey cars.

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But, GASP! A PROBLEM THAT KEEPS THE NARRATIVE INTERESTING! Rachel Mac’s parents are all: “He’s poor and trashy. You can’t date him.” And Rachel’s all: “But I love him!” And they’re all: “Lol no, you’ll love the rich lawyer that we tell you to love.”

And when Rachel Mac wakes up the next morning, one of the black people with hardly any lines is packing her things, because the family is going back to rich-people land so Rachel won’t get knocked up by a dirty ferris wheel climber.

“How long do I have to do this until you remember that you like my peen?”

She tries to find Ryan Gosling, but he’s out on some job (he just rides on the back of a truck and occasionally flexes his muscles while putting a shovel into the ground – what I assume every poor person did for work in the 40s). Her family leaves and she doesn’t get to say goodbye. Hearts broken all round.

He writes her letters every day for a year, but her sinister-looking mum hides them so Rachel won’t run away to have dirty ferris wheel babies. Also, now I’m depressed because I just realised I’ve never once in my life received a hand-written love letter, and this bitch just got 365 of them.

Last week there was an envelope in my letterbox with a hand-written address, and I got so excited because I thought maybe John Oliver had realised his love for me and was writing to let me know I was brilliant and he wanted to give up everything to move into my apartment in Sydney’s inner-west. But alas, it was just a pamphlet from a little old lady telling me that Jesus will be mad if I don’t stop masturbating. So the most romantic thing that happened to me last week was thinking that Jesus and a judgemental old lady were watching me while I touched my special place. Oh god. #ForeverAlone

Ryan Gosling goes to war. Rachel Mac falls in love with James Marsden. Ryan Gosling gets back from the war. Can’t deal with life without her. Grows a beard to prove how heartbroken he is. Buys the house he promised he would buy her and fixes it up the exact way she wanted it. (And again – nobody has ever bought me a fucking house. The Notebook + vodka + Saturday night = major depression = more vodka.)

Meanwhile, back at the Nursing Home, Old Lady is all: “I like this story.” And Old Dude is all: “Enough to GET IT ON?” And she’s all: “Nah, not yet. Keep reading.”

Seven years have passed in story-land. Rachel Mac is about to marry James Marsden when she sees a picture of Ryan Gosling in the newspaper. Somehow she recognises him, even with his heartbreak beard. She decides she must go to him, because she never quite stopped loving him and she is having all the feels. Also, he built this amazing house so he isn’t just a poor, dirty ferris wheel climber anymore.

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WHO NEEDS A BOY TO KISS IN THE RAIN? Not me. Meet Vladimir. My lover.

She goes to him. He has has built the house she always wanted. He takes for her a boat-ride in the rain. (FUCK ALL THIS ROMANCE WHERE’S MY VODKA.) She’s all: “Why didn’t you write to me?” And he’s all: “Bitch, I wrote you every day for a year.” And she’s all: “Whaaaaa?” And then she runs into his arms and they kiss in the rain and I hug my vodka bottle because he’s the only one who loves me. I shall call him Vladimir and we shall kiss in the rain as soon as I can be bothered getting out of bed.

They have all the sexual sexy-times. Excuse me while I do something private that only Jesus and the judgemental old lady are allowed to watch.

Rachel Mac and Ryan Gosling get into a big fight. He says they’re made for each other because they fight and have passion and remember when I climbed that ferris wheel for you etc etc etc. He says a whole bunch of other romantic stuff that I’m not really hearing because I’m trying to imagine Vladimir as a person and not a vodka bottle.

James Marsden comes into town, and he’s all: “WTF? How can you sleep with another dude? Do you not understand that I’m James Marsden?” And Rachel Mac is all: “I know, but when you have to choose between James Marsden peen and Ryan Gosling peen, it’s really hard okay?”

And then… She picks Ryan Gosling peen. She turns up to his house with her suitcase and they have many years of sexy-times. And that’s the end of the story that Old Dude has been reading to Old Lady.

In the biggest case of NO DOY ever, Old Dude and Old Lady are Ryan Gosling and Rachel Mac. She has dementia, and he reads to her from ‘THE NOTEBOOK’ (eh? eh?) every day, to try and help her remember who she is. Mainly because he misses thier sexy-times.

He sneaks into her room one night. She wakes up, and the power of their love (OH GOD I’M SO ALONE) helps her remember who he is. She’s all: “I’m so sick of my brain being shit. Let’s die together.” And he’s all: “Mmm yeah okay.”

Nek minit, they lie down in bed together, and they die. THEY DIE OF LOVE:

So the moral of the story is: If you are lucky enough to find the love of your life, eventually they will forget that they ever liked sexing with you and then they will die.

Fuck.

Vladimir, Hold me.


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