Has the romantic comedy been revived? The signs point to yes. January sparkled in the cozy glow of Netflix’s “People We Meet on Vacation,” and February dripped in the sweaty sexuality of Emerald Fennell’s unintentionally comedic “Wuthering Heights.” Yet another adaptation of a laughably bad Colleen Hoover book will ring in spring, and “The Devil Wears Prada 2” will kick off blockbuster movie season in May. Culturally, the rom-com, though in an expanded form, returns to the dominance it had in the ’90s. So why does it all feel plastic?
I couldn’t put my finger on it until I settled into a screening of “Annie Hall” at Film at Lincoln Center, part of a recent retrospective on the late Diane Keaton. As the titular character, Keaton brims with corporeal intensity as viewers see the ups-and-downs of her relationship with comedian Alvy Singer (Woody Allen). She transforms into a lightning rod of charisma, a mouthful of sour candy so spunky and singular that you can’t help but succumb to her entrancing madness.
Charisma is the glue that makes a rom-com stick, and “Annie Hall” is spectacular because Keaton has spades of it. These days, there’s a shortage of that kind of personality. Studio executives are at least partly to blame, relegating rom-coms to cookie-cutter nostalgia bait. Take their insistence on greenlighting a fourth “Bridget Jones” last year, the aforementioned second “The Devils Wears Prada” coming in spring and a “Practical Magic” sequel this fall. In “Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy,” Renée Zellweger’s formerly quirky character becomes a stale caricature that stumbles through hollow dialogue about her deceased husband. It’s all references and hijinks that garner social media scrolls, not an effort to make a holistic, self-contained movie.
Executives also insist on casting a certain type of widely appealing rom-com woman who is bulletproof at the box office. Consider Sydney Sweeney’s steady success as a blonde-haired, blue-eyed cash grab who won’t comment on politics, or 35-year-old Margot Robbie’s casting as the teenage Catherine in “Wuthering Heights.” These leading ladies, even with their award nominations, simply don’t connect with us because they were likely cast for commercial reasons. The films are sweet enough, but once the credits roll, they’ll leave you with a stomachache. No more sour candy — this is tearing through a box of chocolates because someone told you you’re supposed to like them.
Annie was an inciting symbol for the women of her time, a feminist redefining relationship constructs after the sexual revolution of the ’60s and ’70s. Further down the line, similarly authentic casting choices like Meg Ryan, Julia Roberts and Sarah Jessica Parker picked up on those threads to craft iconic performances in “When Harry Met Sally…,” “Pretty Woman” and “Sex and the City,” respectively. These characters were entertaining visions of financial independence, vibrant womanhood and sexual liberation, holding entire cities in their contempt while tottering around in Jimmy Choos.
The rom-com’s transformation into something populist and inoffensive has clipped its wings, but there are still films that carve out a real space in cultural conversations. Celine Song’s “Materialists” did just that last year — Dakota Johnson delights as a drily funny matchmaker who must face the unrealistic, materialistic desires of New York City singles. Song and Johnson poke through the holes of our capitalistic approach to finding love, and Johnson’s character ultimately chooses an artsy, broke Chris Evans over a coiffed, uber-rich Pedro Pascal. The ensuing discourse matched the highs of prime-time “Sex and the City,” when viewers gleefully tore into Carrie Bradshaw’s questionable romantic choices.
To be charming and moving, the rom-com doesn’t need to reduce the messiness of modern love. Instead, the genre can find a silver lining in it. It’s why Renate Reinsve is so deeply impactful in Joachim Trier’s “The Worst Person in the World.” As she smokes, sleeps and sobs her way around Oslo without the slightest hint of reservation, you begin to feel like she’s mirroring every expression you’ve ever made. On her face, it seems as though those feelings might be valid, and a little bit wonderful.
While the genre can be magical, rom-coms don’t feel like magic when everything is rendered in plastic. Reinsve might just be Keaton’s spiritual successor, achieving that same unbridled charisma by speaking with a generation, rather than preaching to them some fairytale mirage of what love should be. One of Reinsve’s most affecting scenes hinges on a shared cigarette — her character Julie puts her mouth right next to the mouth of a man she meets at a party, inhaling each drop of smoke he exhales. It’s stupid, romantic, funny and real. And for the loveless, career-confused, smoking-dependent 20-somethings of the world, that cigarette is a rom-com hit worth craving.
Contact Shrish Bulusu at [email protected].