A return engagement

Netflix knows we need an escape, so it built a rom-com factory Lisa Bonos

The day I watched three Netflix romantic comedies in a row, my cellphone offered its own film criticism. Whenever I typed “rom-com” in text messages, my phone auto-corrected it to rom-con. And sometimes rom-coma.

I see your point, Siri.

I know these films promote unrealistic ideas about love. I know that watching characters fall in love releases pleasure and bonding hormones, effectively tricking my brain into feeling as though I’m the one experiencing this meet-cute and falling-for-you montage.

But it’s safer and more predictable than swiping on Tinder, and healthier than texting an ex. No matter what happens over those 105 minutes (they’re always under two hours!), viewers know the tone will be light, the characters relatable and the ending upbeat.

It might be built on a con, but the rom-coma feels so good. And in the comfort of your own home and PJS, it’s much easier and cheaper to slip into one than it was in the pre-streaming days.

Critics have long declared the romantic comedy dead, as studios have veered toward the raunch-com, à la Bridesmaids and Trainwreck. But the genre hasn’t disappeared. It has lived on in television shows such as Crazy Ex-girlfriend and The Mindy Project. And this summer, the genre is thriving on Netflix, which is pumping out romcoms faster than viewers can say “I’ll have what she’s having.”

Netflix isn’t making new classics that rival When Harry Met Sally or Mean Girls, so much as rom-coms that hearken back to those that are second-tier but still re-watchable. (Think: How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days.) But they’re adding characters who are more diverse, ethnically and sexually, with plot lines that are more politically correct than in the John Hughes days of playing sexual harassment, homophobia and rape references for laughs.

Matt Brodlie, director of acquisitions at Netflix, says the streaming service could see that viewers were watching rom-coms multiple times on its platform. And because the main studios weren’t making many new ones, Netflix saw an opportunity.

“We wanted to dive into this space that had been abandoned but was still a desire for people to see,” Brodlie says.

Although Netflix won’t give specific viewership numbers for its summer rom-coms, it says one in three viewers of The Kissing Booth have re-watched the romantic comedy about two best friends whose bond is tested when one falls for the other’s older brother. That’s 30 per cent higher than the average rewatch rate on Netflix. Last month, Ted Sarandos, Netflix’s chief content officer, told New York magazine the teen movie was “one of the most-watched movies in the country, and maybe in the world.”

Watching a romantic comedy is “a nice escape,” Brodlie says. So Netflix has looked specifically for scripts “that would scratch that same itch,” he says.

We need that escape now, says Susan Johnson, director of To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before (which premières Aug. 17 on Netflix), who notes that the “angsty” romantic comedies of the 1980s came out of simpler, less divisive times. “Now we want to see something that makes us happy and hopeful,” she says.

Lauren Miller Rogen, writer and director of Like Father (out Aug. 3), notes that as the studio rom-com has changed — relying more on the physical comedy than genuine emotion — she’s found them less relatable. “A lot of female characters haven’t felt real or grounded; their emotional journeys haven’t mirrored anything I could relate to,” Miller Rogen says.

The beauty of a rom-com is that the characters can be relatable even if you’re never been in their particular situation. I’ve been fortunate to have a father who’s always been present and attentive, and yet I still found myself in tears over a tender conversation between Kristen Bell’s character (a workaholic named Rachel) and her absentee father played by Kelsey Grammer.

The young adult rom-com is most remarkable for how much high school hasn’t changed in 20 years, despite the fact that humiliation and peer pressure now exist on social media and in person. No matter how much you’ve matured, it’s easy to access the memories of being an insecure teenager and the feeling that the flimsy alliances of high school matter so much when you’re in the thick of it.

The Kissing Booth is one of the most-watched movies in the country, and maybe in the world. In IMDB’S popularity rankings right now, it’s the No. 4 movie behind Deadpool 2, Avengers: Infinity War, and Solo. This is a movie that I bet you’d never heard of until I just mentioned it to you. — Ted Sarandos, netflix’s chief content officer

Like the high school romand raunch-coms I grew up on — 10 Things I Hate About You, American Pie and others — this summer’s Netflix titles still revolve around parties, the fickleness of popularity and elaborate schemes to get your crush to like you. Every Netflix rom-com set in high school features a trio of popular girls who still have the power to make a protagonist feel small (and aren’t quite as brilliantly drawn as Tina Fey’s Mean Girls originals).

But the films no longer feature the same strand of straight, white, rich teenager over and over again. The boys are more sensitive and sexuality more fluid. “Alex Strangelove” opens with a high school-to-animal-kingdom analogy that’s ripped from Mean Girls, but unlike the usual virgin-trying-toget-laid plot, the protagonist ends up coming out to his girlfriend.

To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before and Sierra Burgess Is a Loser hinge on fake-dating schemes that resemble 1999’s 10 Things I Hate About You. But the fact that To All the Boys follows an AsianAmerican family is a big step forward. “I’ve never seen an Asian-american girl be the lead of a teen movie,” says Jenny Han, author of the book that preceded the movie. The film’s director, Susan Johnson, finds today’s teen rom-com to be more inclusive than those of her youth. Her film “isn’t really about them being Asian-american, which makes it even more universal,” Johnson says. “Everyone can dive into a world they can recognize.”

Netflix rom-coms sometimes call out the aspects of classics that feel out of touch today. For example, in The Kissing Booth, the bad boy Noah (Jacob Elordi) gets into a fight with a guy who grabs Elle’s (Joey King) butt. When Noah says that maybe her skirt was asking for it, Elle snaps back: “Seriously? You wanna go down that road?” No, Noah doesn’t. And neither do we.

Similarly, in To All the Boys, Peter Kavinsky (Noah Centineo) wonders why Lara Jean loves Sixteen Candles. Isn’t this character Long Dong Duk kind of racist?” he asks. First off: It’s Long Duk Dong, and “not kind of,” Lara Jean clarifies, but “extremely racist.” Her little sister chimes in that they like the movie because, hello, Jake Ryan (Michael Schoeffling) is hot. “To me that scene is about things that we have enjoyed in the past and have a soft spot for, but can be deeply problematic,” Han says.

If Netflix’s high school rom-com is about finding love while figuring out who you are by escaping the tyranny of what others think, the adult versions centre on finding love while reconnecting with that true self — by escaping the tyranny of work. Finding professional success has always figured heavily in the rom-com, yet it’s an especially relevant plot point for the Netflix binger who might not have time to get to a movie theatre, but can squeeze in a rom-com on their commute home or on the couch late at night.

Set It Up and Ibiza both feature protagonists named Harper (Zoey Deutch and Gillian Jacobs, respectively) who have unfulfilling jobs, demanding bosses and nonexistent love lives. Until a lovefocused caper sets them free.

“Never does (Harper) say: I need a boyfriend. She wants a kickass job,” Scanlon says. “And until she gets the confidence and believes in herself and does the work, she doesn’t deserve to get what she wants.”

Now there’s a relatable problem that never gets solved in 105 minutes. So let’s watch another rom-com while pondering how to find love, success and a life — and rejoice in the fact that the genre hasn’t died. It’s just moved to a more intimate setting, which is perhaps where it belonged all along.