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By Andrea Finn
It was about as romantic as Chris O'Donnell's proposal to Renée Zellweger in "The Bachelor," when he places a ring in front of her and says, "You win." Only in their case, they were at the Starlight Room having a fancy dinner over candlelight and music. My longtime boyfriend and I decided to get married in the approximately 90 seconds between the end of one "Law & Order" episode and the start of another (they run 'em all night long on TNT!). I strong-armed him into it. There was no ring, there were no candles, and our serenade was the distinctive "djing-djing" sound signaling it was time for the next "Law & Order." So that was the end of the argument, er, proposal. So much for Julia Roberts' impassioned speech - "Because I know in my heart you're the only one for me" - in "Runaway Bride," huh? And since it was my bright idea, I'm in charge of the wedding. I realize that from time immemorial this has been the bride's job, so it's really no sweat. I am honor-bound to execute a great wedding, preferably a wedding so much better than all my friends' weddings that I will be able to gloat and they will be bitter. After all, wasn't that their modus operandi when they planned their weddings? It's the nature of the beast. What is a wedding if not a time to show everyone else up? I mean, who are we kidding? Otherwise, we'd all just get married on the Internet. Right away I made a solemn vow, one far more important than any silly marriage vow: I shall not become Bridezilla. "Bridezilla" is a recently-coined word only a wisp of tulle's-breadth away from gaining permanent status in the OED. It connotes a bride driven to the brink of insanity with all the pressures that come with planning a wedding, so that she grows horns, sprouts a tail, breaks out in a scaly rash and, instead of speaking in normal tones, roars. "WHADDAYA MEAN THE HOTEL'S BOOKED THROUGH 2015?!?!" "WHY CAN'T I HAVE IVORY ORGANZA INSTEAD OF CREAM?!?" "WHERE THE HECK IS MY NONFAT SOY LATTE?!?!?!" You see how it goes. If the green monster had ever fought the white puffball in the throes of planning a wedding - a little film I'd like to call "Godzilla vs. Bridezilla" - it's quite clear who would have won. Nobody likes a Bridezilla, especially one's friends, one's parents, and, to a lesser extent, one's fiancé. I myself am a level-headed, well-organized person (with only the occasional outburst of insane blather). I've worked in film for years and I'm quite skilled in organizing and planning, so I see no reason to turn into a pretty little irrational raving lunatic, prancing around in white. I've got books, I've got magazines, I've got a wedding planner full of tearsheets and information that would make Martha swoon in her prison blues. I'm ready, I'm calm, I'm heavily medicated. Before getting started, I took a look through some newspaper clippings my mother had saved for me. I had a good chuckle at all the poor saps who were worried about what to wear, how to behave, who sits where and when, and all the rest of it. Obviously they hadn't done their homework, i.e. watched The Wedding Triumvirate: "Four Weddings and A Funeral," "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" and "Muriel's Wedding," followed by occasional viewings of alternates "Sixteen Candles" and "The Wedding Singer." Everything you have to know about weddings you can learn from the movies. I have cable, so I should know. All the advice columnists are just out there to make brides feel badly about themselves, whereas the movies offer unbiased help. Afraid your fiancé's going to be late to the church? Set his alarm four hours early, like Hugh Grant's friends did in "Four Weddings." Afraid cramps are going to ruin your big day? It's better - and funnier - to take MORE muscle relaxants rather than less, like Ginny did in "Sixteen Candles." Got a zit? Don't stress, just put some Windex on it. Really, it's quite simple. On screen, it's all fine and good for Jennifer Lopez to wear a simple little Jackie O-style suit in "The Wedding Planner" because you know darn well she's worn Vera Wang cathedral-train gowns in all her real-life weddings! And no matter what kind of Bridezilla you think you aren't, every woman deep down in her blackest heart of hearts desires a Vera Wang cathedral-train gown. In fact, if a Vera Wang cathedral-train gown showed up at Ross, it's possible there would be rioting the likes of which this country has never seen. I myself would probably camp outside the store doors, rather like those people who camped outside movie theaters months in advance of "Star Wars Episode One." Oh, wait, that COULD be construed as Bridezilla behavior, I guess. Never mind, I don't want a Vera; never have and never will. I want my wedding gown modeled after the orange dress Charlize Theron wore to the 2000 Academy Awards. And no matter that Charlize is roughly the same size as my forearm, I still love that dress and I'm gonna wear it. I have plenty of time to get to the gym between now and the wedding. If I lose ten pounds a week, that should do it. I'm aware that the literature lulls us into thinking we mere mortals can have the epic events that films and celebrities pull off (and by "literature" I mean the E! Channel). I realize that everyone can have a dream wedding, just so long as you can compromise and keep your expectations realistic. And, having done a bit of fact checking, I now know that Charlize Theron's Oscar gown was designed by Vera Wang, so I guess I really do want the movie ending. I do.
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