Fun
Frisky
Nostalgic
Intense
Adventurous
Choked Up
Curious
Romantic
Weird
A quick gander at the calendar confirms that today is Valentine’s Day. The time of year we celebrate and reflect on that intoxicating elixir known as love. At its best, love is an ineffable feeling of sincere, intimate euphoria. At its worst, it suuuuuucks.
Anyway, happy Valentine’s Day! Let’s talk about gettin’ dumped!
Since we live in a civilized society, you’d think breakups would take a hiatus for the holidays, but nope. Each year when the calendar inevitably creeps towards December 25th or whenever Easter is, we take stock of our lives. The holiday season shines an unrelenting spotlight on both the good and the bad, and research suggests that it can serve as kindling for the scorching inferno known as romantic calamity, a hypothesis with which I know all too well. In my storied career of attempting to make two hearts beat in just one rhyme, I’ve been dumped on or around Valentine’s Day, Easter, and Christmas. Now all that’s left for me is to receive the ol’ “it’s not you, it’s me” in a box or near a fox to become the Sam-I-Am of romantic misery.
My inevitable march towards holiday heartache Bingo aside, no film helps you cope with the emotional obliteration of a breakup better than Swingers, which is currently streaming on Netflix.
Written by the Jon Favreau who’s not a political commentator, this stylish 1996 indie follows the exploits of a lively group of unemployed actors who travel from bar to bar in Hollywood, California looking for chicks, booze, and adventure. The glitzy premise belies the sentimental core of this cult favorite. While Swingers is best remembered for catchy quips (“You’re so money and you don’t even know it!”), impromptu Vegas trips, and questionable Sega Genesis ethics, the heart of the film is Favreau’s Mike Peters, a struggling comedian desperately trying to recover from a recent breakup.
After Favreau receives a harrowing reminder that dating can be (*into a comically over-sized alphorn*) T-H-E W-O-R-S-T, he slinks back into a state of depression. From there, his pal Rob (Ron Livingston) drops by and refuses to let his friend spiral down the familiar tunnel of spiritual annihilation by delivering a Coach Taylor-esque monologue that’s both a frank articulation of the debilitating nature of heartache and a much-needed kick in the ass.
While many prefer the “somehow they know not to come back until you really forget” scene from the beginning of the film, I’ve always been partial to the following:
“Don’t tell me we didn’t make it. We made it! We are here. And everything that is past is prologue to this. All the shit that didn’t kill us, is only… you know. All that shit. You’re gonna get over it.”
Favreau and Livingston are truly sensational in this scene. From Mike’s tender “Then why won’t she call?” to Rob’s honest confession that there are some breakups you never truly “get over,” it’s a glimpse at a genuine moment between two friends. Livingston’s speech isn’t some cloying cinematic claptrap. He’s not placating his pal with hallow reassurances or needlessly insulting Mike’s ex-girlfriend. He’s offering his buddy some sincere advice about breakups: They suck. They’re going to make you feel like a dented trash can for a bit. But, eventually, you learn to deal with it.
Favreau, who drew from his own personal romantic woes when writing Swingers, penned a beautiful scene that helps put the emotional jumble of love and loss into focus. If you find your own personal Spotify list blasting Roxette’s “It Must Have Been Love” instead of Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get It On” this “holiday” season, give yourself a break and remember Rob’s sage advice: You’re money.
I mean, probably. I don’t know you on a personal level, but I’m sure you’re swell. And If our paths ever do cross, please don’t dump me on Thanksgiving.
Happy Valentine’s Day!
