Bonding Through Film: My You’ve Got Mail

Bonding Through Film: My You’ve Got Mail Bias.

I can never give a direct answer when someone asks me what my favourite film is. I usually have to list an array of titles, which alternate depending on the time of day, weather, distance from the equator, position of Mercury, etc, etc. However, despite the constantly-changing roster, an inherent bias always ensures 1998’s You’ve Got Mail has a spot on the list. You’ve Got Mail – helmed by romcom royalty Nora Ephron- reunites Sleepless in Seattle (1993) leads Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan in a positively saccharine concoction that I just can’t get enough of. As the name suggests, You’ve Got Mail is a nostalgic capsule of the late 1990s, capturing a time when romance could blossom on the “over-30s chatroom”, and the biggest threat to small, independent bookstores was larger, less-independent bookstores. It’s a sickly sweet by-the-books romantic comedy that’s dated in a mostly-charming way, though even I’ll concede that it probably isn’t the pinnacle of cinema. It’s always included in my list of favourite films, not because I think it’s a master piece, but because, for me, it’s synonymous with winter nights and time spent with my sister mother. The first time that I can remember ‘watching’ You’ve Got Mail, the combination of my fleeting fiveyear-old attention span and disinterest in romance meant that I paid little heed to what was going on. It was a rare Irish winter that saw a significant snowfall, which had fascinated my sister and I for about an hour before we shuffled back inside with rosy cheeks and tired eyes. In an act of appeasement, my mother

(You’ve Got Mail, Nora Ephron, 1998)

er produced a novel treat of hot chocolate, and planted us in front of the television to recuperate and acquaint ourselves with You’ve Got Mail. My memory of the film itself is sketchy, and I’m not sure I understood what was going on or, indeed, cared to- but it made for perfectly acceptable background noise in very good company, and I considered it an evening well spent. This was to be the first of many viewings of You’ve Got Mail with my mother and sister, as it became the default source of entertainment for dark evenings when it was too wild to venture out. I can’t recall when I actually began to pay attention to the plot itself, or even consider it with a somewhat critical lens. I do, however, somewhat critical lens. I do, however, vividly remember cozying up under a blanket in our living room with my sister beside me, nibbling at microwave popcorn. I remember being playfully shushed by my mother as I prattled incessantly over the film’s emotional climax, and drifting off to sleep as Harry Nilsson’s cover of Over the Rainbow crooned over the closing scene. My memories of our collective viewings far predate any recollection of the plot, and while hindsight allows me to see the positive in that, I can’t say I always had the same sentimentality. In my more capricious teenage years- naturally, in contractually-obligated defiance of my mother and sister- I grew tired of constantly seeing Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks schmooze it up on screen. ‘You always watch this!’ I moaned accusingly when my mother fired up the DVD player yet again, having temporarily fallen out of love with the 90s charm of You’ve Got Mail because it simply wasn’t cool enough for my teenage self. Heaven forbid, of course, that I enjoy something that both my mother and my sister liked; if anything, at this point I was strongly biased against the romcom. I bemoaned its constant reappearance, and

(You’ve Got Mail, Nora Ephron, 1998)

vehemently denied gaining any sort of enjoyment from it. Fortunately for me, my mother and sister didn’t really listen to my complaining, and we all watched it anyway. A slightly more mature perspective allowed me to accept two things. Firstly, that my taste was not so refined that I was above enjoying You’ve Got Mail. The second, and crucial conclusion, was that my mother and sister’s enjoyment didn’t leave me with a bias against I at all, but a bias towards it. It was my shared experience of enjoying the film with them, after all, that drove me to repeat viewings, and continues to do so. You’ve Got Mail may not be a technical triumph- although I have come to appreciate its finer points, including palpable chemistry between the romantic leads and a wistful soundtrack- but the memories I have of watching it year after year with my mother and my sister have infused it with an inimitable sense of warmth. It is - and will always be - one of my favourite films, courtesy of the bank of pleasant memories and familial ties that I simply cannot separate from it. Having moved to Dublin this year as in-person college resumed, I’ve spent far fewer winter evenings at my family home. It’s easy to feel a little disconnected and I, like anyone who has experienced the pang of homesickness, often find that the smaller, quietermoments are the ones missed most. Fortunately for me, I have a well-loved DVD copy of You’ve Got Mail at my immediate disposal. On a particularly miserable day, all I need is to load it up, and I’m transported back to a snowy evening in 2006, with my mother and my sister in quiet mutual agreement that watching You’ve Got Mail and drinking hot chocolate is, indeed, an evening well spent. As far as film biases go, I’d say that’s pretty justified.