Perhaps because I've been spending so much time lately in lower New York and Brooklyn, I've been attracted to films set in those streets I love, and recently I watched, back-to-back, Moonstruck (1987) and Crossing Delancey (1988). I was immediately struck by both the similarities in the two films and at once, their philosophical opposition to each other in matters of the heart. (Spoilers follow, in case you haven't seen these films.)

There's no doubt that Moonstruck is the stronger piece. Tightly plotted, full of life and humor and with Brooklyn acting as a beloved, if eccentric, secondary character, the film still delights with its wit and just enough wackiness to crown it the last true screwball comedy. Cher, with a hoarsely sexy voice and that streak of grey in her hair, is at her most human and appealing, and Nick Cage embodies a natural, working-class, smell-the-sweat-on-his-chest sexiness that both attracts and endears. Crossing Delancey, while a fine film, is not really even in the same league.

However, both share heroines who (seem to) know what they want: Amy Irving's Izzy is more piano than Cher's Loretta, but she's a 33-year-old career woman who believes she doesn't need a man to be happy. Loretta is a straight-talking accountant, a 37-year-old widow, practical and unsentimental -- until she meets Ronny, of course. Both women are deeply enveloped by strong local ethnic communities -- Lower East Side Jews in Izzy's case, and Brooklyn Italian-Americans in Loretta's.

The lessons the women absorb throughout the two films are, however, completely different. Izzy's journey is about letting go of the charismatic, dashing, accomplished writer who seduces her (and, she comes to realize, lots of other women) in favor of a humble pickle-store owner from the neighborhood picked out by the local Yente. Reject the exotic, the film seems to say; it's strange and unfamiliar and bad for you -- instead, look for that gem of a man amongst the pickles in the barrel you never gave a second glance to before. Izzy overcomes her initial revulsion to understand that Sam the pickle man is lovable.

Cher also ends up with a man from the neighborhood, but Ronny is the polar opposite of her laughable and unromantic but safe fiance Johnny, whom she knows she doesn't love: a "wolf," she names Ronny, on their first meeting; a wolf who chewed off his own hand to be free from the trap of marriage. She surrenders blissfully to what seems inevitable: "I don't care anymore! Take me to your bed!" Ronny's is an untameable heart... until it comes clashing up against hers, and he declares himself in love with her.

"Snap out of it!" is Loretta's famous response, following a couple of good hard slaps to his face.

Izzy would never dream of slapping anyone, even the writer who kisses her and then tactlessly asks her to be his new assistant. She is a milder woman, but her passions, while they run quieter, are no less strong. In the film, one could argue that she "settles" -- takes the safe route, chooses the guy who's good for her, whom her grandma likes, the guy who waits patiently for her while she's out kissing another man. Peter Riegart's Sam is not a pushover, but a "nice guy" (he groans at this when Izzy says it), but their feelings are not equal: Izzy has walked past him many times without giving him a glance, while Sam already has a picture of her in his wallet when they go on their first date. Izzy has gentile ambitions, symbolized by her yearning for the world of French restaurants and champagne uptown; Sam (and her grandmother) urge her to "cross Delancey" -- to come back down to the Lower East Side where she belongs. She acquiesces.

Loretta's transgression is more serious than wanting a life on the other side of the street; she crosses the line of sibling rivalry. sleeping with Ronny a day after she gets engaged to his brother. But Loretta ultimately chooses the unsafe man, the man who loves her passionately, the man who can (literally) sweep her off her feet. Ronny is melodramatic, messy, dangerous -- the comical romantic hero. Where Izzy decides wih her head, Loretta falls for her heart. As she decides to marry Ronny her mother asks the same question she had previously asked about Johnny: "Do you love him, Loretta?" "Oh ma," Loretta sighs, "I love him awful." "That's too bad," her mother remarks tartly, not entirely joking.

I wonder if it's entirely a coincidence that Crossing Delancey and its celebration of the man-next-door was written and directed by women; Moonstruck is written and directed by men. I don't mean to overemphasize the significance of the gender differentiation here, but I would suggest that men can advocate chasing a crazy dream of love while women can't really afford to. When a man "gives up everything for love" he is still, essentially, traditionally at least, in control in all other respects except perhaps in governing his feelings; he still holds all the financial and social power; he has the upper hand in earning potential; he won't be saddled with the unwanted pregnancy, the child, unless he chooses to be. It's a different story for women. Women can't afford to make choices purely on the basis of how well a man makes love to her -- except in the movies, where the notion of "true love" is so often put forward as an inescapable, desperate force in the face of which the victim, the lover, has no choice but to surrender.

Could it be that this idea of a romantic love proffered to women by films and movies is a construct that is essentially a man's dream of love?

I often go back to Jane Austen, who kept such a neat balance between romance and practically. None of her heroines choose a loveless marriage, and in fact, Austen sometimes goes so far as to condemn that idea of settling for less than happiness, although she allows Charlotte -- poor, and without Elizabeth's good looks -- that choice without condemnation in Pride and Prejudice. But Austen with a clear eye examines the male suitors of her heroines for not just their personal integrity but also their ability to provide -- an outlook that modern romantic comedies avoid, for fear of appearing shallow or crass and also, I think, because in a man's world the financial stability of a female partner is less important.

I love Moonstruck, it's fresh and funny; Crossing Delancey made me a little nervous -- but perhaps in the end it's a far more honest film in spite of its flaws. While women might dream of being swept off their feet like Loretta, in the end they may want to reconsider the humble pickle man. But how do we know whom to choose? Do we follow our hearts or our heads? Who is the right man?