Northwest Arkansas Democrat-Gazette
‘Happily ever after’ no longer the rom-com norm
Once upon a time, romantic comedies promised viewers “happily ever after.” But now, in the thick of a romcom renaissance, TV series are questioning the sentiment, becoming less interested in fairy-tale endings than the challenges of modern love. From The Marvelous Mrs.
Maisel — about a 1950s housewife-turned-stand-up-comedian — to Fleabag — about an irreverent Londoner who falls for a Catholic priest — a number of recent entries in the genre confront that fanciful notion in favor of another, more realistic feeling: uncertainty.
“Traditionally, the stories present a relationship like some sort of destination or achievement, but it’s not my experience of the world,” said Aline Brosh McKenna, who wrote The Devil Wears Prada and 27 Dresses and co-created the CW’s romantic musical comedy Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, which completed its fourseason run this year. “When your girlfriend gets engaged, you’re not like, ‘You did it! You won!’ and if they get divorced, you’re not walking around saying, ‘That’s it, you messed up your entire life.’”
“Relationships are wonderful, but there’s a lot that goes into being in a romantic relationship that’s past the Cinderella kiss, which just started to really seem like bull … to people,” she continued. “I think now, people are a little more interested in what happens after that.”
Which means rethinking the “after,” exchanging the widely accepted ideal of children’s stories for the uncomfortable truth that there is no relationship or job that guarantees indefinite bliss. In life as on screen, people are simply doing their best, putting one foot in front of the other and hoping it works out. These rom-coms embrace fickleness, indecision, doubt — an appealing angle for contemporary viewers, especially in the current climate.
TV Land’s series Younger has done this with aplomb. For five seasons, Sutton Foster’s Liza — a 40-year-old single mother posing as a 26-year-old to get an entrylevel job in publishing — has been romantically bouncing between her young, tattooed boyfriend, Josh (Nico Tortorella), and her age-appropriate, buttoned-up boss, Charles (Peter Hermann), who has shared many of the same life experiences as she has. In the logic of the series, though, there’s no obvious right answer, no “one true person” with whom she should be. That authentic lack of resolution, season after season, has kept audiences tuned in.
“One thing I think the characters in this show learn is that one person doesn’t check every box,” Younger creator Darren Star told The Times. “These men represent two different viable choices for her, but with any one person, you can’t have everything. And I just have to say for the record: These two guys aren’t the only fish in the sea.”
Throughout its sixth season, which recently ended,
Younger has illustrated that choosing to be with a person is not the end of a story — it’s a ripe beginning. Charles and Liza butt heads over professional and personal matters. They have trouble explaining their newly public status.
“Ultimately, the show is about a woman who did everything she did because her career is what was important to her. It’s very much a romantic comedy that has real professional stakes to it. These are all characters who are not prioritizing romance over career.” Indeed, American women’s definition of “happily ever after” appears to be evolving as well. Pew Research Center reports that Americans are staying single longer (the median age at first marriage is 30 years for men and 28 years for women, its highest point on record). They’re also having fewer children: The country’s fertility rate reached a record low in 2018 for the second consecutive year, according to The New York Times. Amazon Prime’s The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, currently filming its third season began its adventures where romcoms traditionally end: after the wedding. Rachel Brosnahan’s exemplary 1950s housewife Miriam (nicknamed Midge) seemed to have “happily ever after” stitched into the fabrics of her New York apartment, but the facade fell away amid her husband’s insecurities and infidelity. She then discovered a new kind of happiness in stand-up comedy.
Although she has dated other men since her initial split, a different kind of triangle has emerged: among Midge, her budding career and her ex-husband, Joel (Michael Zegen), to whom she’s occasionally returned over the two seasons. The final frames of the Season 2 finale had the lovebirds rejoicing at their latest reunion, while those who prefer her professional endeavors sighed at the slip-up.
And then there is Fleabag, the second and final season of which was released on Amazon this year. Its six episodes did indeed tell “a love story,” as creator Phoebe WallerBridge’s titular lead promises viewers, breaking the fourth wall with a smile. Audiences watched her pursue a fraught relationship with a priest (Andrew Scott) — someone who saw her fully and completely and loved her for it. But he loved God too. Fleabag did not end with a freeze frame, in which Waller-Bridge and Scott hugged, kissed and grinned about their shared future together. It ended with a second split: between Fleabag and her audience, as she shook her head, flashed a wry smile and gave us a little wave goodbye. The conclusion was a perfectly executed example of the modern romantic comedy’s approach to endings. The season’s romantic tension doesn’t suffer from the lack of a pat resolution; it benefits from it, because it’s true to the lived experience of love.
“Not every romantic story has to have a happy ending,” Cathy Schulman, executive producer of The Edge of Seventeen, told The Times. “Romance will always be a part of our lives, and comedy about people is what matters. We just have to find ways to celebrate that without falling into the trap of an outdated genre format that we, as audiences, don’t even want to see.”