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Romcoms warp our idea of love. But it can take a real-life drama to make us notice Romcoms warp our idea of love. But it can take a real-life drama to make us notice
(35 minutes later)
You know how it goes. He’s just a guy, windswept and pensive, standing on the deck of a cruise ship, thinking about love. She’s just a girl, scatty and impulsive, who jumps into the sea and starts swimming her way to the huge ship, trying to catch her beloved before he sails away. In movie terms, it’s a scene so romantic and winsome you barely flinch. (In fact, it’s Tom Hanks in Splash, flailing in the water, adorably paddling after his one true love: the mermaid. Adorable.)You know how it goes. He’s just a guy, windswept and pensive, standing on the deck of a cruise ship, thinking about love. She’s just a girl, scatty and impulsive, who jumps into the sea and starts swimming her way to the huge ship, trying to catch her beloved before he sails away. In movie terms, it’s a scene so romantic and winsome you barely flinch. (In fact, it’s Tom Hanks in Splash, flailing in the water, adorably paddling after his one true love: the mermaid. Adorable.)
In real life, it’s behaviour that will get you sent to the local psychiatric unit in Madeira, suffering from hypothermia and undoubted trauma, while your husband flies back to the UK.In real life, it’s behaviour that will get you sent to the local psychiatric unit in Madeira, suffering from hypothermia and undoubted trauma, while your husband flies back to the UK.
The story, this morning, of a British tourist rescued after several hours in the Atlantic ocean, bobbing afloat thanks to her handbag acting as a buoyancy aid, thinking her husband had boarded the ship and left without her, is bizarre and sad to the point of disbelief. News, meanwhile, that a man hijacked an EgyptAir plane and forced it to land in Larnarca with hostages onboard so he could speak to his ex-wife sounds just as bonkers. The story, this morning, of a British tourist rescued after several hours in the Atlantic ocean, bobbing afloat thanks to her handbag acting as a buoyancy aid, thinking her husband had boarded the ship and left without her, is bizarre and sad to the point of disbelief. News, meanwhile, that a man hijacked an EgyptAir plane and forced it to land in Larnarca with hostages onboard so he could speak to his ex-wife is just as perplexing.
Both stories, in the real world, stun in their boldness. Such exaggeration of emotion, such extreme gestures – and yet, at a second glance, the two incidents could have been scripted for multiplexes: this is the ideal template for modern love, everyone. These are easily two lead roles in one of the biggest romcoms of our time: “She crashed into the ocean, desperate to win back her love! He hijacked a plane and prompted the Cypriot president to chuckle: ‘Always there is woman involved’”. Both stories, in the real world, stun in their boldness. Such exaggeration of emotion, such extreme gestures – and yet, at a second glance, the two incidents could have been scripted for multiplexes: this is the ideal template for modern love, everyone. These are easily two lead roles in one of the biggest romcoms of our time: “She crashed into the ocean, desperate to win back her love! He hijacked a plane and prompted the Cypriot president to chuckle: ‘Always there is woman involved.’”
You can imagine these scenes reconfigured as witty, passionate, aspirational declarations of love. It’s what makes romcoms so appealing; frothy, batshit fantasy projected as real-life relationship goals – if your real-life relationship goals include normalising obsessive jealousy and being serially spied on. It doesn’t take a scientist to point out that our favourite romcoms have rewritten the rules of romance so that “modern love” could just as well mean “socially acceptable stalker’s charter”, but it’s helpful that they did. The 2015 study, I Did It Because I Never Stopped Loving You, from the University of Michigan, went so far as to prove that “the romanticised pursuit-behaviours commonly featured in the media as part of a normative courtship can lead to stalker-supporting beliefs.” Meaning that the more that shocking, sociopathic behaviour in real life is rebranded as cutesy puppy love on screen, the more difficult it is to disentangle the two. You can imagine these scenes reconfigured as witty, passionate, aspirational declarations of love. It’s what makes romcoms so appealing; frothy, batshit fantasy projected as real-life relationship goals – if your real-life relationship goals include normalising obsessive jealousy and being serially spied on. It doesn’t take a scientist to point out that our favourite romcoms have rewritten the rules of romance so that “modern love” could just as well mean “socially acceptable stalker’s charter”, but it’s helpful that they did. The 2015 study I Did It Because I Never Stopped Loving You, from the University of Michigan, went so far as to prove that “the romanticised pursuit-behaviours commonly featured in the media as part of a normative courtship can lead to stalker-supporting beliefs.” Meaning that the more that shocking, sociopathic behaviour in real life is rebranded as cutesy puppy love on screen, the more difficult it is to disentangle the two.
Consider what the reporting would look like if Sleepless in Seattle (woman obsessively hunts down vulnerable widower she hears on the radio, manipulates him into meeting her on the tallest building in the US) were a real story. Or, if There’s Something About Mary (creepy stalker employs a second creepy stalker so they can both creepily stalk his old high-school sweetheart) didn’t end in a court-imposed restraining order.Consider what the reporting would look like if Sleepless in Seattle (woman obsessively hunts down vulnerable widower she hears on the radio, manipulates him into meeting her on the tallest building in the US) were a real story. Or, if There’s Something About Mary (creepy stalker employs a second creepy stalker so they can both creepily stalk his old high-school sweetheart) didn’t end in a court-imposed restraining order.
Picture the chat you would have with your mates if that great, stomach-curling classic of twee madness, Love Actually, where man who stands on best friend’s doorstep and tries to nab his wife through the poetic medium of flashcards were rebranded as the tale of a gutsy underdog desperately in love. Would you say he was helpless? Rendered stupid by romance? Or a bit bloody much? (Addendum: that Andrew Lincoln’s character made a wedding video camcordering the bride’s every move on her Big Day and wasn’t punched out of the wedding party also seems pretty unlikely.)Picture the chat you would have with your mates if that great, stomach-curling classic of twee madness, Love Actually, where man who stands on best friend’s doorstep and tries to nab his wife through the poetic medium of flashcards were rebranded as the tale of a gutsy underdog desperately in love. Would you say he was helpless? Rendered stupid by romance? Or a bit bloody much? (Addendum: that Andrew Lincoln’s character made a wedding video camcordering the bride’s every move on her Big Day and wasn’t punched out of the wedding party also seems pretty unlikely.)
And yet, I suppose, audiences might scoff: isn’t watching the popcorn version of relationships better than enduring Hollywood’s take on the real thing? (And in any case, mumblecore movies exist to occupy that territory). In real life, a romantic gesture, at its most ostentatiously grand, might mean being sent some flowers at the office. In front of your colleagues. (Terribly embarrassing.) At its most mundane, it’s six days of passive-aggressive Whatsapping, one of you forgetting to pick up the milk, and a “date night” forcibly enjoyed because that’s how the world – aka the film Date Night – dictates you keep your relationship alive. And yet, I suppose, audiences might scoff: isn’t watching Hollywood’s popcorn version of relationships better than enduring its realistic take? (And in any case, mumblecore movies exist to occupy that territory.) In real life, a romantic gesture, at its most ostentatiously grand, might mean being sent some flowers at the office. In front of your colleagues. (Terribly embarrassing.) At its most mundane, it’s six days of passive-aggressive Whatsapping, one of you forgetting to pick up the milk, and a “date night” forcibly enjoyed because that’s how the world – aka the film Date Night – dictates you keep your relationship alive.
The nagging problem with popular culture’s romcom script is not just that it’s unrealistic, but that it’s so pernicious. Take, for example, my brilliant, smart friend who dumped her boyfriend – not simply because he cheated, but because his attempts at making up didn’t include the grand gesture. Specifically, the one employed in The Last Kiss where Zach Braff stalks his girlfriend’s front door, sleeping through rain, for 24 hours, after she kicks him out.The nagging problem with popular culture’s romcom script is not just that it’s unrealistic, but that it’s so pernicious. Take, for example, my brilliant, smart friend who dumped her boyfriend – not simply because he cheated, but because his attempts at making up didn’t include the grand gesture. Specifically, the one employed in The Last Kiss where Zach Braff stalks his girlfriend’s front door, sleeping through rain, for 24 hours, after she kicks him out.
In real life, Braff’s behaviour would be considered that of a future Asbo-holder, sure. But in my friend’s anger, it was one of the few ways she felt he could have made amends because those ridiculous romcom characters and their wildly improbable relationship models exist in the bounds of reality in a way that other characters from other genres don’t. The Expendables won’t make your dad join a vigilante middle-age militia in South America, and your little cousin talking a bit wideboy gangster after watching too much Guy Ritchie can only do so much harm (mostly to himself). In real life, Braff’s behaviour would be considered that of a future asbo-holder, sure. But in my friend’s anger, it was one of the few ways she felt he could have made amends because those ridiculous romcom characters and their wildly improbable relationship models exist in the bounds of reality in a way that other characters from other genres don’t. The Expendables won’t make your dad join a vigilante middle-age militia in South America, and your little cousin talking a bit wideboy gangster after watching too much Guy Ritchie can only do so much harm (mostly to himself).
Romcoms, on the other hand, warp ideals and expectations of love and romance at the best of times. At their worst, they legitimise irrational patterns of behaviour to such extremes that it takes real-world headlines to notice. Romcoms, on the other hand, warp ideals and expectations of love and romance for us all. It’s shocking that it sometimes takes real world headlines to make us notice.