Popular films navigate the dishonesties of the cinematic romance. Serial killers and their cohorts read segmented love letters from Orson Wells, James Joyce, and Johnny Cash. Pornography plays to a despondent song that breaks through the fantasy of these maladaptive rom coms. And the hoax that is compulsory heterosexuality is laid bare. The sale of traditional romance as a sleight of hand under male supremacy is unveiled to simply be the normalization of both a soft and hard form of violence.

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