WHAT A GIRL WANTS

In case you were curious about the desires of the average American female between the ages of 12 and 30, submit yourself to "Letters to Juliet", a new film directed by Gary Winick (of "Bride Wars" fame, alas). Centred in Verona and starring creamy Amanda Seyfried opposite Christopher Egan (a suitably studly counterpart, aptly described by A.O. Scott as "basically Ryan Phillippe with some of Hugh Grant's mannerisms"), the film reads as market research, plain and simple.

What happens is this: Sophie (Seyfried) travels to Verona with her undeserving fiancé, Victor (Gael García Bernal), solves a romantic mystery, and then falls in love with a brittle Englishman who adores her. The effect is less a story than a slalom course, with ingredients checked off as we swoosh past them. Plucky blond heroine? Check. Tragic back-story ? Check. Amber-lit Veronese panoramas? Indeed. And so forth. Squint your eyes so that the particulars of the film dissolve and you have before you a checklist of estimates about what young women want, deciphered with little nuance by Jose Rivera and Tim Sullivan, the film's writers, and Winick himself.

If $12.50 sounds too steep a price for the privilege of this information, consider the following distillation of the film's themes as your own private cheat card. Women, clip it out and reference it whenever you forget what your desires are. Men, use it to whatever advantage you can fathom. Milk Duds are optional.

What women want (qua "Letters to Juliet"):

They want to be backlit, with a thin but supple figure and a tasteful amount of cleavage

They want a cute but churlish Englishman, and they want to hit this man with an ice cream cone

They want the Englishman to warm up and reveal a heart of gold

They want to share an illicit kiss

They want their hair brushed by an elegant, wise grandmother who looks like Vanessa Redgrave

They want to do what is right, but it takes them a while to understand what this really, truly means

They want to dump a no-good fiancé

They want to blaze into a Mediterranean vineyard in a convertible after dumping a no-good fiancé

They want to believe in destiny.

They want Taylor Swift to serenade them at the end.

They want their first piece to be published in the New Yorker