The movie was every bit as good as it was touted to be. Hugh Grant as a fictional '80s pop star has-been is very believable, and Drew Barrymore is exceptional as a subtle comedienne. Both sing pretty well, the songs are great soundtrack material, and Hugh's dance moves are both laughable and endearing in their tackiness. There's quite an age gap between them, but in the running time of the movie I conveniently forgot that because it didn't matter. They have good chemistry.
That's not the point though. The reason why I enjoyed "Music and Lyrics" so much was it spoke to me very clearly, about what I should do about my heartbreak.
In a sense I'm a lot like Barrymore's character Sophie Fisher. In many ways, I'm still living in a fairy tale, and when things aren't going the way I want them to, I'm ill-equipped to deal with them. But when things go wrong, the film taught me the absolute worst thing I could do is to be self-indulgent and brood in depression for far too long.
Why am I still in this rut? I may finally have an answer. There are things I wanted to happen, things I wanted to tell her, and I will never have the opportunity to make them reality. There are so many what-might-have-beens that plague my mind, keeping me fixated on her like some kind of addictive narcotic and preventing me from moving on with my life.
I am ultimately punishing myself---and what for? I gave it my best shot and I failed. I would have regretted it even more had I not tried anyway. I have to accept with finality that it will never be, that I deserve to be happy again.
This leads me to the final realization "Music and Lyrics" taught me. How will that girl out there know that I am passionate about her? She will know when I show her that she changed me. She will know when I do something so unusual, so out of character, so stupid even, that it will speak to her heart more directly than any amount of blatantly overrated physical intimacy.
I am as hopeless a romantic as ever...