Inessentials

Spoilers for The Proposal (but nothing you couldn’t figure out from the trailer)

The problem with romantic comedies today is that they are neither romantic nor comedic.

That’s the attention grabber, the obvious joke, the easy jab. But it’s not quite true.

Of course there are truly unromantic films with no chemistry between the leads that pass as romantic comedies. And of course there are truly unfunny films with stale jokes and unwatchable delivery. After all, Jessica Alba and Dane Cook still find work.

But let me suggest that the single largest problem with the genre of Hollywood romantic comedy is not lack of charisma (Clive Owen, George Clooney, Paul Rudd, and apparently Bradley Cooper; Julia Roberts, Amy Adams, and, given the opportunity, Anna Faris). It’s not that the romantic comedy has been supplanted by the man-as-boy comedy (the Judd Apatow and Adam McKay/Will Ferrell films) or the bromance (I Love You, Man, The Hangover), although that has taken its toll. The biggest problem with the romantic comedy is that it has become mired in a genre convention that it surely doesn’t need: the humorless resolution.

Watching the passable exercise that is The Proposal earlier this summer, I was struck by how few jokes arrived in the final 45 minutes of the film. The first 45 minutes gave us Sandra Bullock (who I find immensely cold and irritating, so her role as a cold and irritating boss was welcome) and Ryan Reynolds (carving out a nice niche for himself with above-expectation rom-coms) getting engaged so she doesn’t get deported. (Don’t worry, she’s Canadian! = Not a terrorist!) Predictably, they have to sell this to Reynolds’ family, who had higher hopes for him. Hilarity (or a passable, low-fat alternative) ensues. With sexy results.

I’m not giving much away to say they end up falling in love (but how will they ever admit it to each other … and themselves?). What was surprising was that the film managed to have a light tone, some funny even though predictable bits, and a not terrible laugh-to-sigh ratio. So why did I leave the film with a sour taste in my mouth? There was absolutely nothing funny about the last 30 minutes, in which we are supposed to be carried along by nothing more than our desire to see these two can’t-admit-it-but-they’re-love-birds make it. We don’t care. We are given no reason to care. But even if we were, why do the jokes have to stop? Where is it written that the comedy has to stop when the romance starts? William Powell and Myrna Loy as Nick and Nora Charles didn’t need to stop the jokes when they moved to the bedroom. That’s where the best stuff happens. Cary Grant, Carole Lombard … name your favorite classic Hollywood comedian who could play a romantic lead and every one of their successes was built upon their continuing the jokes even after they realize they’re in love. When Cary Grant is convincing His Girl Friday that she is still in love with him and not her fiance, the film is just beginning, not ending.

Romantic comedies have too fine a pedigree for us to allow these current incarnations to continue telling us that romance begins when the joking stops. Romantic comedies work when there is romancing through comedy, not romance usurping comedy.