Born at the turn of the 21st century, I grew up in the heyday of romantic comedy. Films like Legally Blonde and Clueless provided the backdrop for my childhood, the sparkly pink DVDs the center of every middle school sleepover. Watching heroines like Elle Woods and Cher Horowitz endure social gaffes, navigate young adult struggles, and finally claim happy endings, my adolescent peers and I couldn’t wait for our own love stories. Nothing could be more exciting than a life filled with romantic montages, humorous disagreements, and an eventual happily-ever-after with Luke Wilson.
In a recent article, columnist Ross Douthat lamented the decline of the romantic comedy genre over the past decade. As financing has favored action movies that sell around the world and ideological forces have targeted traditional stories of love and sex, Douthat claims that “there’s a cultural void where romance used to be.” Stories extolling the merits of romance don’t sell, and don’t align with the values Hollywood wants to convey to the next generation.
Douthat contends that the dwindling numbers and decreasing quality of romantic comedies reflect a cultural shift that has deprioritized romance. “It doesn’t seem coincidental that this void [in the romcom genre] opened at a time when the sexes are struggling to pair off—with fewer marriages, fewer relationships, less sex,” he notes. As the data demonstrates, young people today are pushing off marriage, oftentimes to achieve financial stability first. In addition, millennials and Gen-Z-ers appear to have less interest in romance and sex. These trends stoke terror in the hearts and minds of conservative pundits, like Douthat, who worry about the decline in population numbers and the dissolution of the institution of the family. Thus, for Douthat, the call to make romcoms great again represents an injunction to return to a culture that valued romance and marriage as key personal goals.
Romantic narratives prove useful in structuring civil societies. From a societal perspective, marriage is one of the most brilliantly effective institutions in governance. Marriage serves as a built-in structure that restrains and channels sexual desire (thereby limiting violence), promotes the repopulation of society (ensuring sufficient numbers to provide for the elderly), and constructs a mechanism to give children care and education with minimal state bureaucracy.
Given the overwhelming usefulness of marriage, it’s no wonder that cultural works promoted the values of romance for years. Stories, songs, and art can make marriage appear more compelling than the harsh realities of the experience. After all, while marriage might be socially useful, it also presents a major trade-off for any individual. As with everything else, there is an opportunity cost to romance. Pursuing a relationship means giving up time that could be spent on lucrative or fulfilling activities, and (hopefully) means foregoing other romances while in an established relationship.
Thus, works of art and literature tip the scales in favor of romance, making marriage seem appealing and causing individuals to aspire to romance. As Jane Austen brilliantly (and wittily) noted, “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.” For years, cultural works (ranging from romance novels to romcoms) mandated that the foremost goal of anyone’s life was to get married and have kids.
Taylor Swift contributes to this narrative. In “Mary’s Song” she tells the story of what is supposed to be an ideal relationship. The friendship of two childhood neighbors blossoms into puppy love as they become high school sweethearts, and eventually marry, settle down, and have kids on the same street where they grew up. In other words, the couple gives up opportunities for self-exploration and worldly adventures in order to stay together in their hometown. There’s something claustrophobic about the song. It begins with the lines, “I was seven and you were nine/ I looked at you like the stars that shine/ In the sky” and ends by echoing those very same lines in the final verse: “I’ll be eighty-seven; you’ll be eighty-nine/ I’ll still look at you like the stars that shine/ In the sky.” Fundamentally, the partners in “Mary’s Song” choose marriage, romance, and comfort instead of holding off on the romance to search for growth or exploration.
Thus, “Mary’s Song” encourages the standard of marriage. It’s a cultural work that praises romance above all else, as the singer (happily) chooses romance at the expense of other pursuits. Douthat would be thrilled.
But, other works suggest a more cautious approach to romance instead. For example, in The Cocktail Party, T.S. Eliot outlines the costs of romance, and thereby urges his readers to think before allowing the ideals of romantic comedy to shape their life decisions. In the play, protagonist Celia faces an explicit choice between romance and exploration. Fearful of a life of “Casual talk before the fire/ Two people who know they do not understand each other/ Breeding children whom they do not understand/ And who will never understand them,” Celia rejects the opportunity to pursue romance, and instead decides to strike out on an adventure. In her mind, choosing romance presented too significant a cost. “I feel it would be a kind of surrender--/ No, not a surrender-- more like a betrayal./You see, I think I really had a vision of something/ Though I don’t know what it is, I don’t want to forget it,” she declares. Rather than leading a life akin to “Mary’s Song” (or following the narrative of any romantic comedy), Celia plunges into the unknown in order to chase after knowledge and understanding.
Far from praising the benefits of marriage and romance, Eliot proposes another set of values to inform individual decisions. In his mind, intellectual pursuits outweighed the convenience of marriage. (It’s worth noting that T.S. Eliot had notoriously bad marriages, though). In reading Eliot, one is more likely to think through the costs of marriage, instead of idealizing it and dreaming about romance. He therefore created a body of literature that rejected the values of romantic comedies, and contributed to the cultural shift of Douthat’s nightmares that devalued marriage and romance.
Who would have thought Eliot would be the progressive TS?
Douhat probably has mixed feelings about the new 2020's style rom-com "Together Together" (https://bleeckerstreetmedia.com/together-together). While it does result in population growth its main characters don't have sex preferring instead a, dare I say, Platonic love. Great to witness trans comedian Patti Harrison's breakout role. What would TS Eliot think?