In 1948, a non-ironically titled rom-com called Isn’t It Romantic? was released. Starring Veronica Lake as the coquettish Candy (because anyone named Candy just has to be a coquette), the year and actress alone at play would make one expect nothing but standard froth befitting the decade where screwball comedy continued to reign. And yet, despite it still being the peak of a moment in American pop culture when everlasting romance could still be believed in, Candy is nonetheless duped by a con man named Rick (Patric Knowles, no relation to Beyoncé) when she lets herself fall in love with him even in the face of warnings and cynicism to the contrary.
Cut to 2019, with another rom-com more overtly dripping with the sarcasm of the same title, Isn’t It Romantic? Wielding Rebel Wilson as its strategic star in order to play up the notion of subverting the genre (for girls like Wilson are always the kooky sidekick or bit player, never the star–just watch Wilson in Bridesmaids), the twenty-first century audience is at last given a chance to laugh at the absurdity of rom-com tropes with the main character instead of at them. And so, with the Pleasantville effect in place for Natalie’s alternate reality New York (in keeping with the standard aesthetic whitewashing that all rom-coms are required to do in order to appeal to their primarily Midwestern audience) after she suffers the standard head injury that must come in most 80s movies (Desperately Seeking Susan, Overboard, Angel Heart, etc.), we are able to see just how foolish she was for worshipping the genre in her youth.
It was a reverence, however, quickly dashed by her mother (Jennifer Saunders, in a short but memorable role), who, walking in on Natalie watching Pretty Woman (oh god, why did Pretty Woman have to ruin us all?) for what seems like the umpteenth time, informs her that rom-coms aren’t real life and that they would never make a movie about “girls like us, and you know why? Because it would be so sad that they’d have to sprinkle Prozac on the popcorn or people would kill themselves.” It appears that in this instant, Natalie comes to grips with the idea that she will never be the girl who attracts the impossibly rich or charming man. Or who manages to land on her feet thanks to good looks and a plucky attitude. Or has an offensive stereotype of a gay best friend (which will come once she hits her head).
In her day-to-day life, however, she does have a straight best friend–Josh (Adam DeVine), her coworker at the architect firm where she works and is, of course, undervalued. Though it’s overt to most of the people who observe their interactions that Josh is “smitten” (to use rom-com vocab) with Natalie, she’s oblivious to his “hints,” instead complaining that a guy like Blake (Liam Hemsworth), one of the firm’s wealthy clients, would never go for a girl like her, inferring that she’s the person who brings the coffee when she walks into a meeting to pitch one of her great ideas about his property.
It is foolishly, and upon the advice of Whitney (Betty Gilpin), her movie-watching at work assistant and close friend, that she briefly takes the advice to be “more open,” interpreting the “advances” of a fellow subway rider as flirtation when, in fact, he’s the one that leads to her head injury after mugging her (as if people in New York still get mugged anymore–this in and of itself being a sign of the layers of rom-comness in the movie). In this new world where New York doesn’t smell like shit, the color pitch is adjusted to look oversaturated instead of gray and she miraculously lives in an apartment that Jeff Bezos would call a pied-à-terre, Natalie is horrified. While the little girl who took Vivian Ward’s life as gospel might have accepted the Kool-Aid of this uncharted universe, her adult self is too jaded and annoyed to put up with Blake telling her shit like how “beguiling” she is all the time, to which she replies, “Did you just learn that word? ‘Cause you tend to say it a lot.”
With Whitney transformed into a polished, high-powered rival who naturally has to be competitive with her in the workplace because they’re both women (see: 13 Going on 30), Josh, as usual, is the only one willing to come through for her no matter how crazy she sounds. Unfortunately, just when she thinks she’s getting him to really pay attention to her plight, he comes to the rescue of “yoga ambassador”/model Isabella (Priyanka Chopra) while she’s choking in, where else, Central Park. Forced to reconcile that she’s trapped in a romantic comedy (“and it’s PG-13!”), Natalie realizes she can’t get out of this without going through the motions. So it is that all the information and contempt she’s accrued over the years of studying how the rom-com works and all it’s predictable formulas that will only lead to one predictable end, Natalie decides to fall in love, even if it means trying to take Blake seriously, for he’s obviously what the script (actually written by three women clearly well-versed: Erin Cardillo, Dana Fox and Katie Silberman) calls for as her “true love.” Paying homage to Vivian’s Beverly Hills wardrobe, Natalie wears both the white button-up dress and oversized black hat upon being discharged from the hospital and, later, for a date, a similar red gown to the one that Vivian puts on to go to the opera. Even so, she ain’t feelin’ like Julia Roberts and she just wants to get the hell out of this warped reality, even if it is intended to feel like a magical dream come true.
One of the screenwriters, Dana Fox, must feel especially vindicated for finally being able to laugh at all the shit that paid for her house and other assorted luxuries (see: The Wedding Date and What Happens in Vegas), the very sort of shlock that has helped contribute to so many women’s still implemented absurd notions of romance and love (which are often, when combined, rarely sustainable).
And with her knowledgeability of the style, it seems pointed that apart from Pretty Woman, the only other rom-com classic (and it is a classic) directly referenced is The Wedding Singer, which, while offering a hair more authenticity to real life in terms of alluding to weirdo artists who make no money not being marriage material, isn’t so deviant or random a choice for showcasing how rom-coms poison us all even more when “freaks” or “mutants” get a happy ending. In that regard Isn’t It Romantic? gets even more meta as, in spite of learning that loving herself is the most important thing for being loved in turn, she still ends up with the guy because self-love as a coda still wouldn’t work even for a rom-com that mocks rom-coms. So yes, even self-parodying rom-coms have to follow a certain formula while making fun of it (with random street dancing to the likes of “Express Yourself” by Madonna included).
Will Isn’t It Romantic? go down in the annals of classic rom-coms? Well, who knows. Considering that an audience can’t even stomach one anymore unless it’s of this hyper-meta nature (the new normal for trying to sell a script of this genre), it just might. At least by post-2010s standards.
