In the old movies, boy met girl, girl liked boy, they had a crisis, won out over the odds and then, in the last scene, we got to see The Kiss. They pressed their lips together and they embraced. Sometimes it was even a little passionate, but it was generally a lovely sort of thing. All of the old people in the audience (at least the women) dabbed their eyes with their lace hankies, put their hands over their hearts and said, "Auwww."
In today’s movies, boy meets girl and, whether they love or hate each other, they kiss. Well, it isn’t really what I would call a kiss. It’s more like a plumber giving a demo on cleaning a drain with suction. There is nothing romantic about it and, call me what you will, I think it’s sometimes downright obnoxious.
Almost before they know each other’s names they are locked in . . . not an embrace, but more like mortal combat, as if they are aliens trying to take over each other’s bodies. And the kiss itself . . . well . . . it can be fairly unappealing, at least to those of us who are romantics at heart. I tend to make faces when I see them going at it, and I’m often left with the feeling that I need to gargle with bleach.
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