Nora Ephron, writer and director of many successful “chick flicks,” died from pneumonia earlier today. That’s sad, she was only 71. But I have never thought much of her work. She kind of epitomized professionalism without depth. I rather liked some of her films in that “watch them in bed while you doze off” way. And I was impressed that she made You’ve Got Mail work as well as it did.

I suppose she will always be remembered for When Harry Met Sally—a film that I think really doesn’t work. How can anyone get to the end of this film and think it is a happy ending? The two are bound to break up and if they are very lucky, their friendship will survive. Or they will get married and end up hating each other. Regardless, it is not a happy ending.

But there is this scene:

Personally, I’ve always hated women who make a lot of noise in bed. It makes me feel vaguely violated and pandered to. “You don’t have to shout, I’m right here! What’s the problem? You got somewhere to go?” I will allow that I wasn’t always so wise.

Rest in peace, Nora; your time on this earth was not wasted. Yes! Yes! Yes!