Valentine’s Day is here. In an attempt to get in the spirit of that hallowed Hallmark holiday, I’ve been doing some research on works of art inspired by the 14th of February. Googling until my fingers nearly bled, my findings were surprisingly slim. There were movies, most notably “Valentine,” “My Bloody Valentine” and two mysterious flicks entitled “My Funny Valentine” (2000) and “Funny Valentine” (2002), neither of which were carried by any of the local video stores. “My Bloody Valentine” follows the trials and tribulations of redneck coal miners being terrorized by a fellow redneck coal miner gone mad, while “Valentine” features Denise Richards being really bitchy, stripping to a bikini and then getting killed, while David Boreanaz looks alternately menacing and vaguely confused. Don’t get me wrong, I love Boreanaz…But definitely not for his acting chops. I can’t comment on the mysterious “Funny Valentine” movies, although the one from 2002 has Anthony Michael Hall in it, so you know it’s gotta be good.
Valentine’s Day music. The classic is, of course, the oft-recorded “My Funny Valentine.” If you’re going for romance, in this reporter’s humble opinion the only truly romantic thing to come out of Valentine’s Day is the Miles Davis album “The Complete Concert 1964: My Funny Valentine + Four and More.” Get it. Live it. Love it. If you’re not into subtle, however, you can go with “Seduction-A Woman’s Erotic Game for Valentine’s and Every Day.” Sounds promising, right? I downloaded one of the four songs from this CD and frankly, you’ll find more romance in the soundtrack to a seventies porn. Actually, this may be the soundtrack to a seventies porn, complete with the Casio horn section, cheesy beat and white, white soul vocals.
Books on Valentine’s Day range from the fun, elementary school picture books to novel-length diatribes by embittered divorcees. A general search for specialty Valentine’s gifts yielded a long list of specialty chocolates, overpriced flowers and crotchless lingerie. Call me crazy, but none of this screams romance to me. Okay, sure, the edible thong panty has its place in the world, but…It’s not a romantic place. So why is it, exactly, that Valentine’s Day seems at its-pardon the pun-heart to be completely contrary to the spirit of romance? Why does a day devoted to love inspire such passionate detestation that whole movies have been written in protest? And why is it that, for the most part, the best art we can come up with to commemorate the day is, at best, a cheesy ode to sex?
If you look at the photography of artists like Henri Cartier-Bresson, you find the intimacy of stolen moments and spontaneous gestures; details that are beautiful not only for their aesthetic value but for the fact that they are scenes, moments and emotions that surround us everyday. The best romantic movies, from “His Girl Friday” to “Garden State,” espouse the notion that love is unpredictable, often coming at the most inconvenient of times. It’s like on Christmas morning, when the kids toss aside the most expensive gift under the tree to play with the box it came in; that stolen, rain-soaked kiss on Congress will invariably stay with you longer than the romantic dinner you spent a month planning. Valentine’s Day insists on choreographing a dance that seems to be best left free-form.
So, my personal suggestion? Rent “My Bloody Valentine,” light some black candles, eat whatever candy you can find that doesn’t come in a heart-shaped box and wait for the night to pass. Satisfied that you’ve done your part to diminish the notion that romance can be calculated as neatly as trigonometry, you can wake your non-Valentine-anytime after 12:01 on February 15-with flowers and Miles Davis close at hand. And if you’re still bent on the idea, this would probably be a good time for that edible thong.