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Reluctantly, I found myself sucked into the obnoxiously overserious Charly, the 1968 movie version of Flowers for Algernon, on TCM this weekend.

Best dialogue moment:

ALICE: What did you learn?
[a beat]
CHARLY: I’m back. What did you learn?
[a beat]
ALICE: I’m here.

This comes on the heels of Charly attempting to force himself on Alice, failing, and going off on a 4-week Hell’s Angels motorcycle bender complete with stereotypical 60’s psychedelic film effects. He returns to his apartment more emotionally wise, presumably less of a rapist, and the two of them commence a Romance for the Ages, where their anniversary will “happily be on those days when we both remember.” Urp.

The subsequent romance montage climaxes with a shot of Charly and Alice going down a children’s slide together, he behind her with his arms around her waist. They land with expressions of joyous rapture, happier than they’ve ever been in their lives.

Now, I understand why the patriarchy loves a rape-turned-romance story, but for the life of me, I can’t figure out how or why this slide thing is the iconic expression of True Love.

You see the damn thing used in movies like this all the time, but I can’t think of a less comfortable experience than trying to make my way down a tiny, sticky, white-hot metal slide while clinging to another person. Children are often unsanitary little creatures, too, and the thought of wriggling my lower body along the uncleaned path paved by countless kid-butts is hardly intoxicating. Even if you manage to make to the bottom without toppling over, what was the ride, two seconds long? Maybe we could switch the Slide Cliche to something equally as fun, like the Condom-Breaking Moment or the Accidental Burp During a Kiss.

Of course, the final shot of Charly shows Alice watching Charly, who’s now reverted from genius back to being mentally handicapped, playing on a see-saw with a boisterous smile of childish glee. Because, clearly, the see-saw is for retards, but the slide? That’s for lovers.