Once upon a time, the classic romantic comedy ended with a brilliant love confession, either in the rain or at an airport, with the final satisfaction of a kiss. Now, it feels our romantic comedies lack the comedy and happy endings. From “La La Land’s” heart-wrenching piano to “My Oxford Year’s” lonely travel montage, audiences are falling and sobbing through the pain at movies that feign a fun, lighthearted romance, but are in fact not as happy as they seem to be.Â
For decades, romantic comedies were dismissed as light entertainment only for women. But the stereotype of rom-coms being boy meets girl and they fall in love is such an oversimplification that wrecks the genre’s beauty and potential. Since the genre was supposed to pander to women, a lot of the genre dimensionally falls flat and hardly gets critically acclaimed praise. Regardless of this fact, romantic comedy is a staple genre because everyone wants feel-good cinema and genuine romance.Â
The lack of dimension in rom-coms is why more recent releases let go of the idea of the perfect happy ending. The critics of the genre make it so that the “feel-good” element slips through the cracks. The marketing of rom-coms has stayed consistent throughout the decades, showing only feel-good fluff instead of the big plot points. In the 21st century, directors and writers feel the need to overcorrect the formula of rom-coms, but have refused to change the marketing to match the heartbreak. The result is a film filled with predictability, stereotypical plot points, and oversaturated content, which ruins the film for me.
“The Map That Leads To You,” released on Aug. 20, is Prime’s newest rom-com hit, starring Madelyn Cline and KJ Apa. It follows Heather (Cline) on her European travels when he meets Jack (Apa), and her life gets filled with endless possibilities. The film itself was beautiful in cinematography, lighting and acting performance. My only gripe was how predictable Jack’s secret illness was and how the only way for them to flesh it out was to make Heather get left behind in the ideal rom-com happy ending spot — the airport. Â
Netflix has a similar style movie called “My Oxford Year” released on Aug. 1, following an American girl (Sofia Carson) who studies abroad at Oxford and meets a local (Corey Mylchreest), and as one could imagine, they fall in love. The film feels so fun and happy, but again, there is a looming secret that Mylchreest’s character has. Is he cheating or a criminal? No, he has a genetic disease, and his treatment plan isn’t working anymore.Â
I think the problem with these secret illnesses, which each love interest has, is that they’re thrown into the films without a second thought. It never feels natural or genuine. I understand that the point is to showcase how love can be fleeting, but loving someone so raw and intensely is worth it without a looming illness. I’m not saying that we shouldn’t have cancer, genetic, or chronic illnesses in cinema. But using illness as a thrown-in plot point cheapens how illnesses are viewed by society and makes every relationship in those films reactive instead of true, proactive love. I think showing that romance is, as always, reactive isn’t fair, and while this representation is so needed, it is the way the film hides such plot points for cry factor that hinders the credibility of it. Illness doesn’t define humans, and we shouldn’t have the media perpetuating that you need to hide it from loved ones in order to have a fulfilling love story.Â
The way the choices are implemented feels more aesthetic than narratively planned out. I don’t want to think I’m going to cry before I do it. I want the story to move me to tears, not make me feel like I’m supposed to cry at the climactic moment. In the future, there has to be a more nuanced, less clichĂ© way to highlight the beauty and uncertainty of fleeting love.Â
Love isn’t invalid because it doesn’t last forever, but for this sentiment to just be thrown into the narrative in the form of a top-secret illness feels so wrong. I’ll happily cry at a love story if it earns my tears, but rom-coms don’t need a secret illness to prove momentary love, and the experience of that type of love is meaningful. The genre’s magic isn’t entrenched in tragedy; it’s showing us why love, however messy and or short-lived, is worth it. Rom-coms are an ever-changing genre, and change is good, but I hope intentional change is put into more films that will be released this year.Â
After all, what’s a fleeting, young adult romance if it’s not met with the beautiful tragedy of both romance, comedy, happiness, and sadness as long as it’s intentional.Â