As the final filmic installment in the To All the Boys series, this particular one holds an especial weight in terms of concluding the narrative originally conceived by author Jenny Han. Perhaps with so much emphasis on wrapping up the “grand love story” of Lara Jean Covey (Lana Condor) and Peter Kavinsky (Noah Centineo), a focus on other mitigating entities came into play as a means to take off the pressure by putting so much on Lara Jean herself to choose between two coasts. Two colleges. In short, to choose between a future based on what she wants, or what a guy wants.
During the opening to the movie, Lara Jean is once again writing a love letter (or postcard) to Peter from Seoul. Having traveled there to get in touch with her roots, she is allowed more quality time with her sisters, Margot (Janel Parrish) and Kitty (Anna Cathcart). Her father, Dr. Covey (John Corbett)–who apparently needs no first name–is also there with his new girlfriend/soon-to-be fiancée, Trina (Sarayu Blue). With everyone caught up in their own various pursuits, Lara Jean still has plenty of time to pine for Peter. And in between talking to him on video chat, plenty of time to fantasize about what their future will be like (to the tune of Spice Girls’ “Wannabe”). A future they’ve already grossly planned together with the common ground of Stanford being their jumping off point into marriage, career and kids.
Alas, when Lara Jean does not get in, her entire world is thrown into a tailspin–her fantasy of an assured future with Peter suddenly disappearing into the ether. Her entire life was riding on this acceptance. And when one of her friends asks her, “What other schools are you waiting to hear from LJ?,” Lara Jean replies, “Berkeley and UCLA. And NYU, but I only applied there for Margot. She said I’d be a failure at adulting if I didn’t have at least one East Coast option.” And so the expected setup is created. That cliche about West Coastians being reluctant to ever give up the golden sunshine and “chill vibes” of their homeland in favor of frigid (in temperature and demeanor), self-superior New York. That is, until they get just one taste of the city and finally understand how “magical” it is.
But before that happens, the question is: how could Lara Jean ever trade California for NY? Well, the “slow burn” of To All the Boys: Always and Forever alludes to the fact that the Golden State just isn’t literate enough (even though a sizable amount of influential writers have ended up sequestering themselves there if they weren’t born in the state already–in the former category is M. F. K. Fisher, Henry Miller, Upton Sinclair, John Steinbeck and Raymond Chandler; in the latter category, Joan Didion, Eve Babitz, Bret Easton Ellis and, honorarily, Charles Bukowski [who moved to L.A. at age ten and never left]). New York, on the other hand, well, it’s just so writerly (excuse me, while one barfs). The fine print being: that writerliness was about sixty-plus years ago at this point and everyone (including Fran Lebowitz) is still resting on the laurels of the Algonquin Round Table era. Continuing to harbor this idea that “great minds” of the literary world meet when they come together in New York. Just another part of the proverbial brochure for that city’s false advertising.
And if Lara Jean wants to be a writer, how could she possibly pass up a chance at attending school in the place touted as the “epicenter” for writers? The unspoken adjective being poseur writers. You know, the kind who seek to publish a book that’s only well-known or successful in New York itself (sort of like The City We Became). But she doesn’t open her mind to this possibility until “fatefully” being rejected from Stanford. Because, yes, part of New York’s Kool-Aid drinking lore is a person’s genuine belief that every circumstance conspired solely to “bring them there.” That it was all part of “destiny’s” arcane plan. But Lara Jean isn’t destiny’s child, so much as another person who got conned into the myth of what New York is supposed to “be.” Which definitely includes pontificating about pseudointellectual bullshit at NYU, mainly because the majority of people who end up in New York (“plummeting rent prices” or not) still tend to have some financial aid in the form of parental backing. This isn’t Madonna’s rise to fame story anymore. It’s “kids” who want to come to New York to feign “philosophizing” before they succumb to some soul-sucking corporate job (whether remote or in-office).
And so, Margot, who ends up calling after LJ finds out about her rejection, reminds her, “You know, NYU has a twelve-story library.” Lara Jean snaps, “Please don’t use this low moment in my life to campaign for NYU.” Regardless of her moodiness, “slick” close-up shots of the admissions material (including a post-dated acceptance letter that says March 31, 2021 on it) attempts to make us feel as allured as Lara Jean, it seems, by the prospect of “glorious” NYU. Yet, she’s nonetheless hoping to at least get into Berkeley so she can still be close enough to Peter to meet up with him in San Francisco on weekends. Alas, after going on a senior trip to NY (which doesn’t seem all that likely or essential), Lara Jean “stumbles upon” NYU when she winds up in Washington Square. Again, we’re supposed to believe this is some big date with destiny even though, as a tourist in particular, ending up in Washington Square is usually inevitable. Though seeing her fellow classmate and erstwhile nemesis, Genevieve (Emilija Baranac), taking a tour of the “campus” is a bit deliberately unexpected. And of course only adds further “signs” into the column of “I Should Move to New York.”
These “indications from the universe” are intensified when LJ accepts an invite from Gen and her tour guide, Heather (Sofia Black-D’Elia), to come to an “NYU party” (possibly the most odious phrase in the English language). At this point, one has to admit it’s rather curious that the author of these To All the Boys books, Han, who went to The New School for her MFA, should talk up NYU so much. Clearly, she’s trying to funnel as many douchebags as possible away from any other college option in New York, so as to keep the density of buffoons posing as intellectuals as concentrated as can be. Not that The New School isn’t still guilty of the same crime. In fact, pretty much every college and university in New York is, but NYU is the longtime Grand High Witch of this elitist coven called higher education in “the greatest” city in the world.
Predictably, Lara Jean gets caught up in the “glamor” of this college gathering, held, quelle surprise, on a rooftop with a view of the city skyline and a band (The Greeting Committee) playing. Despite becoming enchanted by “the scene” (for everyone is damned to believe they’re endlessly “a part of it” in New York when no one actually gives a shit about you or that you’re there), she can’t help but feel a tinge of guilt over being there without Peter. Thus, she’s seen leaving a voicemail for him, at which time Heather approaches and starts talking to her. She says there was someone she once wanted to go to college with, too. “What happened?” Lara Jean asks reluctantly. “I visited NYU. Fell in love with this city. I don’t know, it was weird. I just… felt like this was where I was supposed to be”–said every cliche.
To cinch the “wondrousness” of the city, LJ is summoned to go on a mission to help someone she doesn’t know take back her couch from her ex’s apartment while he’s out of town. Also there to aid in the removal of the furniture piece is Gen and Chris (Madeleine Arthur), contentious cousins who suddenly feel a bond thanks to the “energy” of the city. And as the group laughs and laughs over how “exciting” the thrill of hauling a couch onto the subway is, they all end up sitting on it to catch their breath. Gen muses, “You know, this could be us someday.” LJ looks off wistfully into the distance as Chris confirms, “I could see it.” Just three girls “finding themselves” in “the big city.”
Back at home, Lara Jean deals with the fallout of her new “romance,” confessing to Margot, “I thought that I was gonna hate it or I thought that I would feel overwhelmed. But… I could really see myself living there, you know? I get why so many books are set there. Everywhere you look there’s a story.” Listening intently and seeing that she’s made up her mind about something, Margot lets Lara Jean continue, “NYU has this amazing lit program where they invite real authors to come and speak to their students. And I could even intern at a publishing house.” Translation: I could bend over and let the world of “literature” fuck me for absolutely nothing in return! But people like Lara Jean, fresh off the boat and full of “pluck,” never see that they’ll become just another meaningless drop in New York’s bucket. Everyone, upon first arriving, is so determined, so utterly blindsided by their own self-assurance that they’re “different” and they “belong” there that even after decades have passed and they’re more irrelevant than ever thanks to the new batch of NYU kids (and other assorted youths) that arrive yearly, they still haven’t gotten the message: NY don’t care. About you or your zeal for it. It doesn’t even really register when yet another person fails or burns out as a result of “staying committed” to it.
Lara Jean, however, is certain she’ll be a successful author, just as she’s certain she and Peter will survive long distance despite the array of genitalia that makes itself available in college (at least pre-corona college). Thus, Lara Jean cushions the blow of telling him the truth about her desire with, “I love you.” He replies, like a stifling little asshole, “Not enough, apparently.” Although she might have lingering second thoughts about how choosing NYU over Peter will affect the relationship, Gen tritely remarks, “I know the way you looked at New York. It was love at first sight.” It’s almost as though the writers of Emily in Paris sought to intervene for that old chestnut. What’s more, the “love” she feels for NY is expressed when Peter demands, “Why aren’t you going to Berkeley?” and she responds, “‘Cause I fell in love with New York.”
If the movie wanted to be honest beyond it’s PSA style regarding all the “wonders” that might come with attending NYU, a smash cut to twenty years later showing Lara Jean binge drinking another bottle of wine in her hovel of an apartment and struggling to find time to write what she “really wants” in between writing for pay would be enough to cure anyone of the false impression left behind by To All the Boys: Always and Forever.
