While You Were Sleeping is very much a light-hearted romantic fantasy chick flick, where an ideal Prince Charming is played exquisitely by Bill Pullman. Bill and Sandra Bullock, who plays the adorable Lucy, glow with the chemistry between them, making this romantic fantasy feel believable.

Lucy, a transit token worker, loves a handsome stranger (Peter) who passes her booth every day. One morning, Peter is pushed onto the tracks and Lucy has that once in a lifetime chance to save someone's life. Through several misunderstandings, Lucy is introduced over Peter's comatose body in intensive care as his fiancee.

This is where Jack's truck tire rolls onto the screen. Jack is Peter's younger brother - less refined, less educated, more gentlemanly, more sensitive, and flannel-shirt-blue-jeans-clad. Lucy falls for Jack, and he for her. The romantic tension between Jack and Lucy sizzles, although neither can admit their feelings while poor Peter lies in a coma.

Peter suddenly recovers and Lucy finds herself engaged to him. The small hospital chapel wedding begins with Lucy's objection. "I object, too," states Jack, though his objection stems from knowing Peter doesn't really love her. Lucy's tearful confession and her declaration of love for the younger Jack turns the wedding upside down and chaotic. As Lucy slips away, Jack watches her leave with just a hint of a smile.

The hidden door that leads to paradise opens in a place without fissures where everything radiates, sustained by the mysterious vapor of imagination. It is inhabited by unicorns and charming princes. Suddenly, time folds like a fan: enormous red roses begin to putrefy, ethereal bodies hang like golden skeletons, trees are invaded by stuffed birds and snakes whose skins short-circuit with every kiss. A girl escapes in terror, taking cover under the dry leaves and the barbed wire. She pretends to be an impenetrable rock, concealing herself so she can never be touched, and always be longed for.

Kitsch is getting lost in an image, wandering into it as through one of Alice in Wonderland's magic mirrors, crossing the threshold of a parallel dimension that is always there, a shadow world, an invisible Siamese twin.

Kitsch is the key to this secret chamber: a tiny star of metallic paper, a rudimentary constellation embroidered on an old fashioned cushion, the gleaming streets and buildings of Manhattan seen at night.

Rescuer of discarded fantasies, all memory and desire, kitsch is the magic carpet on which we glide toward mythical regions that, like submerged coral reefs coming into view with a low tide, constantly float around consciousness.