The Idea of You plays games with our hearts
A romantic comedy works like a pop hit: The gimmick can be eye-rollingly silly, but the good ones commit to the bit. We acknowledge the corniness and still wind up singing along.
That happens in one scene of Michael Showalter’s The Idea of You, the story of an uptight 40-year-old mom swept off her sensible shoes by the 24-yearold singer of a mega-famous boy band who boasts the British accent and fuzzy cardigans of Harry Styles. Early on, Solène (Anne Hathaway), a Los Angeles art gallery owner, is driving her daughter Izzy (Ella Rubin) to Coachella to see August Moon, the band Izzy adored back in seventh grade (which, to a 16-yearold, is the Stone Age). Solène’s ex Daniel (Reid Scott) gave their girl VIP meet-and-greet passes, not realizing she now prefers edgier artists. But then an August Moon song comes on the radio and these hunky lads harmonizing “haters gonna hate” dismantle the teenager’s too-cool defences. She grooves in her seat with an embarrassed grin.
It’s a great moment. Only, the rest of the movie hits almost all the wrong chords. The script, co-written by Showalter and Jennifer Westfeldt from Robinne Lee’s novel of the same name, plays like someone learned that rom-com lovers like chocolates and then set about force-feeding bonbons down the audience’s throat.
As Solène enthralls August Moon’s Hayes Campbell (Nicholas Galitzine) by the coincidence of mistaking his private trailer for the public restroom (and being the first non-fan he’s met in a decade), what you really feel is the filmmaker’s condescension. For something this featherweight, that’s the kiss of death.
The fantasy isn’t that the heartthrob is willing to whisk Solène off on an impulsive European adventure (which he is). It’s that a guy who has the world screaming at his feet would just love to help Solène clean out her fridge — and doesn’t get mad that she kicks him out after their first smooch. Solène resists so long that she becomes a drag — so long that his pursuit strains credibility, and so long that what we thought was an escapist popcorn flick becomes a punishing drama where our heroine barely seems to be having any fun. The turn-on is power and control, not release.
The movie gets its thrills watching the pop star swoon “yes, yes, yes” and the mom tut “no, no, no.” There’s no growth or change, no lessons to learn, no sense of two humans grappling with genuine emotions. The dialogue is just vague conversations about age gaps and trust issues that sound dramatic but are the kind of thing mismatched couples on reality dating shows natter on about while TV producers try to fill airtime.
Hayes is so charming that, for a second, I hoped the complication might be that he’s a shallow, playful people pleaser. (“I love Glendale!” he cheers about a trip to the Los Angeles suburbs.) But no, he’s just Prince Charming.
The cast does its best with the material, especially supporting player Perry Mattfeld, who makes a meal out of her small role as the mistress who broke up Solène and Daniel’s marriage.
As for Hathaway, she’s a master at layering her characters with intelligence, ego and vulnerability — even this character, in the rare moments when she can.
Toward the climax, there’s a beat where the camera just watches her face as Solène toggles through expressions: a teeny smile, a sigh, a laugh. If only the film had stopped right then, as the novel wisely did. Things would at least have ended on a powerful note.