I saw two movies last weekend. They were both strong overall, but going to the theater two nights in a row illuminated something for me: lots of movies are just getting too intense and graphic for my comfort level.

On Saturday night, my roommate and I tried to go see I Love You, Man, which looked like a Bromance that may resurrect the somewhat putrefied genre of relationship comedies. Superbad touched on the theme of male friends in close, important, caring relationships with one another, but it was really more of a coming-of-age movie. This one looked promising — like RomCom for both sexes without the soppy and predictable fantasy plots that, if replicated in real life, would result in restraining orders. We couldn’t get in because it was sold out, so we grabbed some tacos while we decided between Knowing and Escape to Witch Mountain. The tacos spoke; we opted for the former.

Nicholas Cage is a good actor, but his talent is usually unable to shine in his typical work — Bruckheimer films that are entertaining but are cinematic potato chips with lots of crunch and flavor, but no substance. (Example: think of five Nicholas Cage action flicks. Can you remember the name of the character he played in any of them?) His portrayal of a brilliant professor weighed down by raising his son alone after the death of his wife was touching and believable without ever going over the top. This is a guy who drinks too much, but isn’t really an alcoholic. His grief leads him to distraction, but he is still a good parent. It’s a very human, believable struggle with lots of gray spaces that films usually don’t bother to explore. The quiet psychological portrait painted in the first act could have been the meat of the entire story.

And then comes the insanely tense second and third acts where children are in constant mortal danger. It’s impossible to describe the primal trigger this flips in me. Every muscle in my body became tense and I was so stressed out by the end of the film that, despite the flawless special effects, rich plot, and unique twist ending, it was very difficult for me to enjoy. Maybe it’s because I’m female. Maybe it’s because I have strong family relationships and particularly enjoy playing with, teaching, and helping children. Maybe it’s because I have younger siblings who I cared for when they were small, and I’d love to be a mother one day. But although I knew it was a work of fiction, every muscle was tense and I couldn’t enjoy the ride. My DNA overrode everything with “Kids in Danger. Must Protect Kids.” During one particularly scary moment I jerked so suddenly that I kicked my poor friend in the leg.

On top of all this, there are two scenes of graphic destruction that show dozens of people suffering agonizing deaths. While I give props to the special effects teams that devised these scenes, I have to say they did their job too well. I don’t want to see things like that in such vivid focus. Not in real life, and not in fiction. The story was amazing, and it made some really touching points about death. None of us can escape it. Listening to Nicholas Cage’s character make promises he could never keep to his son — specifically, that he would never let him die — hits home. You can’t promise that. No amount of parental love can prevent a child from dying one day. But that doesn’t make having a family worthless, or mean our worldview must be nihilistic. Love makes it all worth it. I just wish that the filmmakers hadn’t opted for such a graphic way to get that brilliant message across. I kept mentally contrasting the movie with Cloverfield, which was intense, had scary moments and a high body count, but purposely avoided lengthy, vivid, perfectly focused horror scenes. Slight reveals and quick glimpses were all it took to raise the hairs on the back of your neck without making them turn white and fall out.

So Sunday night we went back and saw I Love You, Man, which turned out to be a charming, real, down-to-earth picture. Ahhh. This is why I go to the movies. Romantic comedies tend to irritate me because of the idiotic, unrealistic notions they perpetuate about love. People don’t behave like RomCom characters in real life; if they did, they’d end up being arrested as stalkers or thrown in the looney bin. That’s why I hope this new kind of comedy takes root. None of the characters in this film are unnaturally good looking. There is no Meg Ryan with her obnoxious “look at me, I’m adorable” schtick, and there is no sweeping panoramic shot as Drew Barrymore gets smooched in front of an enormous crowd that bursts into applause. These characters are real, three-dimensional people. Real life isn’t pretty most of the time. It doesn’t divide neatly into three act plots with all threads neatly tied in. Real life is awkward and embarassing and goofy and sweet and fun.

Paul Rudd is lovable for his imperfections, not in spite of them. Jon Favreau lends great supporting work as a complete asshole who (like assholes in the real world) will never stop being an asshole and doesn’t turn some corner to show character development and somehow nudge the plot along as it turns a critical corner. Jason Segel is my new favorite funny guy. I haven’t seen much of Freaks and Geeks or How I Met Your Mother, but now I want to. The only odd thing I can’t figure is how Judd Apatow wasn’t directly involved in the production. The collaborative team behind it are all folks who have worked with him, and it’s impossible not to see his heavy influence on this film. Apatow’s work seems to have come to full flower in that now a film executed in his style has been put out there without his hand at the helm.

A cinematic first I noted in this film was treatment of homosexual men as no different from any other kind of man. In theory, if gays are going to be accepted in society, then their male friends should be able to bag on them just like straight guys. And seeing a dad joke about his son being gay and watching the son joke right back at him was refreshing. “Protecting” a different status doesn’t help make someone normal. It implies that they are so abnormal and weak that they can’t handle the normal aspects of everyday life. Seeing a non-stereotyped portrayal of a gay man, where his orientation is incidental to his character and not his entire identity, was encouraging.

What a difference. I left the theater on Sunday feeling like a million bucks. We laughed so hard, even at the parts that made us want to cringe. These were characters who felt like people we know, or who we would want to know. And I learned a few things about how to value the people around you. I like the fact that Knowing was original and thought-provoking, but I go to the movies to be entertained, not to test the limits of my adrenal glands and cortisol production. I’m sticking with things that don’t need to scare the hell out of me to bring their point home. Suspense I can do. Scary I can do. But does it have to be so in-your-face? Movies are supposed to be fun. Please don’t forget that, Hollywood.