That dream within a dream

Three things come immediately to mind when I think of weddings: 1) Love, 2) The first dance, and 3) That scene from “The Princess Bride” where the priest keeps saying “mawwage.” But you know what doesn’t come to my mind when I think about weddings? Bridezillas. Not even a little, not even at all. In fact, I hate the whole concept. I hate the show. And now, even without seeing it, I hate the movie. What movie? Oh, you know, the movie starring two big should-know-better stars. You know, this movie.

Now, I’ve come to expect drivel from Kate Hudson because she hasn’t been in anything worth wasting popcorn on since “Almost Famous.” But Anne Hathaway? Oh, Anne, Anne. How could you? How could you go from “Rachel Getting Married” to “Bride Wars?” How could you sign on to a movie that perpetuates the stereotypes of female cattiness and bridal insanity? How could you sign on to a movie with such clichéd dialogue as: “That’s like a century in girl’s years,” “Your wedding will be huge, just like your ass at prom,” “The gloves are going to have to come off?” And, worst of all, how could you drag Murphy Brown Candice Bergen down with you?

In fact, I’ve decided that the only rational way to deal with this horrid movie’s existence is to reimagine the whole sorted mess. Picture this: “Bride Wars: A Girl-Loves-Girl Wedding Story.” Instead of being about two life-long best friends who are planning their separate weddings but then wage war on each other when they find out there is only one date open at the Plaza, it will be about two life-long best friends who are planning their wedding to each other, but then wage war on a society that refuses to acknowledge their love. In fact, it really isn’t that hard to imagine.

The then and now is uncanny:

And then, well, then there are these:

Take that, Prop. 8. Sigh, if only. The world is so much better in my head.