The RomCom's Not Dead. Hollywood's Just Lazy.
LatestBack in the good old days, all a Hollywood studio had to do to make tens of millions of dollars was release a film about a plucky, satisfyingly flawed female protagonist who finds quirky but ultimately bland love with a chesty yet tender-hearted man. Meet-cute, But I Can’t Stand Him montage, scene where Everything Changes, infatuation montage, misunderstanding that threatens to derail the whole thing, dramatic gesture to correct misunderstanding, satisfying resolution. Boom. A Rom Com. But over the last few years, box office receipts have been disappointing. Hollywood execs say that audiences are sick of romantic comedy tropes, that the formula is tired. But women aren’t tired of the romantic comedy formula at all; what we’re tired of is films made by people who don’t understand what female viewers want. And we’ve finally got other options.
The Hollywood Reporter wrote a Whole Big Thing declaring the romantic comedy deader than Bennifer, thanks to a sad salad of things that aren’t studios’ fault. There aren’t enough young actors with star power to draw audiences, they say. International audiences don’t care, they say. But mostly, they say, audiences are tired with a formula that’s grown stale.
“Audiences aren’t tired of romance; they’re tiring of formulas,” Sucsy says. “There is still a demand, and there always will be, for fresh and innovative stories that are smart and nuanced.” The trouble, he says, “has arisen from the fact that easy marketing and original stories seem to be working at cross-purposes — high-concept loglines might be easier to sell in a 30-second ad, but that doesn’t mean they make better movies.”
Cool thought, but since when have American movie audiences shied away from formulas? Aren’t there, like, six Fast & Furious movies? How many times has Freddy Krueger stabbed his way into our pocketbooks? Twenty-three James Bond films have been made. How many white male super heroes CGI’d their way across screens this summer? Audiences love the shit out of formulaic predictablility; in fact, I consume popcorn fare specifically because I don’t want to be challenged; I want self-actualization montages set to soul music. I want impossible-to-afford outfits worn by women who are somehow only 26 and high on the masthead at a magazine that’s obviously supposed to be Vogue. I want pratfalls, damn it! I want to crawl inside a familiar space, lounge around in it for 90 minutes, and then leave. I want the cinematic equivalent of my childhood bedroom, where I know where stuff is and everything feels comfortable.
The “people are sick of the formula!” excuse seems even less plausible when you consider the fact that romantic comedies have the luxury of an endlessly-refreshing audience. Millions of girls turn 13 ever year. Even if people discarded film genres once they caught onto their tropes, studio execs could figure that they’ve got at least 3 solid years of earnest romcom viewing from most young women before they catch on to the fact that every film is the same.