Let’s (Not) Get Together

A few years ago, when I saw Roman Holiday for the first time, I started joking that my favorite romantic comedies were the ones where the leading couple doesn’t get together. I went in thinking “Roman Holiday is a black and white movie about people in love, which means I know how this movie will end - a romantic declaration, a chaste kiss, the music swells, and “The End” will swirl across the screen and I’ll leave the theater content and happy, knowing that true love conquers all.” Then it doesn’t. The movie ends with Joe Bradley, alone, walking out of an empty, cavernous royal hall towards and past us, the audience. But wait! The chemistry! The romance! They couldn’t just walk away from each other! 

What started as a joke opinion became a sincere one. The more romantic comedies I watched, the more I realized I truly enjoyed movies like Roman Holiday, Broadcast News, and Tampopo, where a romantic relationship is central to the plot and explored, but doesn’t, for whatever reason, end with our main romantic couple getting together. I was drawn to these types of romantic comedies because they challenged my idea of the stereotypical heterosexual rom-coms I saw growing up: Girl meets boy, they fall in love, some drama threatens their relationship, but they overcome it and live happily ever after. So if a romantic comedy doesn’t have to follow this formula, if it’s not about finding “the one”, what’s it about? If I’m not watching it to vicariously live through people who have found their perfect romantic partner, what should I be getting out of this? Finding love is hard, why would these people find it, only to give it up?

I wish it were as simple as saying “romantic comedies that don’t end in a permanent relationship are trying to do “_______” but my quest for a unifying theory for this subgenre didn’t produce an answer, and rightfully so. It isn’t about what the movie is trying to do, but rather, about what the movie CAN do when not bound by the constraints of the rom-com formula. If our characters don’t have to end up together, a movie can explore romantic relationships among the other priorities in people’s lives. It made these kinds of movies so much more interesting to me - that they acknowledge the complexity of trying to navigate love and life, and that romantic relationships that aren’t permanent aren’t a failure, but a significant experience that can color the rest of someone’s life. 

This realization was meaningful for me as a woman, who was raised in the era of “chick flicks” and other media that promoted heteronormative monogamy as the ultimate goal. When watching these movies, I didn’t always experience the joy of pretending that [insert Hollywood leading man] was my Mr. Right, but instead I felt anxious, boxed in. These movies prioritized romance over almost everything else in a woman’s life: her education, her job, friends and family. These movies made me ask myself not what was important to me in my life, much less a romantic relationship, but “how can I become more attractive, wife-able, lovable?” 

That’s why these movies are so special to me. They feature complex women where romantic relationships are one part of their rich, full lives. It’s not that they’ve lost love, or aren’t worthy - they choose to prioritize something else in their lives over potential love interests Joe, Tom/Aaron, and Goro. This means these movies can also reject the previously mentioned formula, opening up new storytelling opportunities within romantic comedies. When you intentionally omit some of these more stereotypical scenes, like declarations of love or reconciliation, you have to find unique and creative ways to communicate love and sexual tension. And most importantly, the end of the movie isn’t predetermined. What these characters go through doesn’t have to end with a happily-ever-after, and instead often feature bittersweet endings that can challenge expectations. 

In Roman Holiday, Princess Ann (Audrey Hepburn) ultimately chooses her royal duties over a potential romance with reporter Joe Bradley (Gregory Peck). But this doesn’t mean that this relationship was a failure; rather, the opposite. Ann’s time with Joe has taught her to advocate for herself in her royal life. This is most distinct in the mirrored scenes of Princess Ann’s bedtime routine - in the first, before her roman holiday, she’s burnt out and pouting. She looks childish in a frilly, white nightgown and is treated as such by her attendants, bringing her milk and crackers and planning her care without her input. Afterwards, she’s in a sleek, black robe, confidently telling her attendants what she does and does not want (meaning no milk and crackers, thankyouverymuch). And because we eschew some of the more common romantic comedy scenes, we don’t get an opportunity to see Ann and Joe tell each other what the past day has meant to them. Instead, they must communicate their love, gratitude, and commitment to secrecy to one another during a press conference without tipping off fellow journalists or Princess Ann’s retinue of their past adventure. The small gestures in this scene - Irving giving Ann pictures, Joe telling Ann her faith in relations between people “will not be unjustified”, Ann’s remarkably honest answer that Rome was her favorite city she’s visited, are so full of life and specificity, and mean more to me as a viewer than a straightforward declaration-of-love scene might. It breaks my heart, in the absolute best way, to watch Princess Ann slowly make her way down the line of journalists, knowing that she’ll only have a final moment and a few words to tell Joe what the past 24 hours meant to her, echo herself from earlier in the movie, “So happy, Mr. Bradley”. 

I recognize that I could be falling into a literary trap here - of course, the final, acted-out version of a scene in Roman Holiday is better than the not-real, hypothetical one I presented. That’s what makes Broadcast News such an interesting example of the romantic comedy genre: Writer and director James L. Brooks fully intended for his leading lady, Jane (Holly Hunter), to end up with one of the two potential love interests presented to her. In an interview with The Hollywood Masters, Brooks says he “had this idea that the only way to do a romantic triangle was to really be open to either guy getting the girl. . .  every romantic triangle you ever saw it was sort of pre-ordained who you should root for...”. While James L. Brooks didn’t have an ending, he did tell William Hurt and Albert Brooks, Tom and Aaron respectively, that he was “open to either one of them getting the girl.” While the specifics weren’t pre-ordained, the outcome was - the girl would get the guy, they just needed to figure out which guy. 

He even wrote and directed an alternate ending, featuring Jane and Tom committing to one another in a dramatic cab ride home from the airport. But, Brooks says, “I couldn’t put her with any guy and you don’t want to end a romantic comedy that way . . . but I couldn’t do it, so I didn’t.” Jane can’t choose Tom because it goes against everything she believes about ethics in journalism. She can’t choose Aaron because he feels their closeness entitles him to a sexual and romantic relationship with Jane that she’s not interested in. But that doesn’t mean the choice is easy, or clear. She has real affection for both of these men, best demonstrated in the sudden emergency broadcast that Jane produces, Tom anchors, and Aaron is forced to sit out, only to call Jane and feed her information she, in turn, feeds to Tom. The breakneck pace, complex relationships, and unspoken understanding in this scene might make it one of the sexiest threesomes ever committed to film. Tom tells Jane afterward that the experience was “like sex”, and is a much more interesting way to establish relationships and sexual tension than the typical makeout and fade to black that is often employed in moments of sexual tension. Based on James L. Brooks’ description of the initial love-triangle idea, none of the characters were supposed to become SO complex that they didn’t make sense for each other, but I think it’s a better movie for letting the actors take these characters to such full, rich places, and letting their performances inform the plot, rather than trying to force relationships that don’t work.

While the ending of the movie is controversial, and Brooks acknowledges that audiences wanted Jane to end up with someone, I love it. Jane is so fully realized as a character by Holly Hunter and so committed to doing her job well that forcing a romantic relationship with either man would have felt disingenuous. It’s brave for a romantic comedy to set up a love triangle, offering Jane the choice of Tom or Aaron, and have her choose neither. Even though I was fully an adult and this movie was made in the 1980s, a woman being presented with two love interests and saying no to both of them was revelatory to me when I first saw the film. 

Tampopo also includes a commitment to a profession as a reason not to pursue a romantic relationship, but more for genre than plot reasons. Not that Tampopo fits neatly into any genre, but I’d argue that Tampopo is a romantic comedy, not just because it’s funny and there's romance, but partially because of its creation. Tampopo is played by Nobuko Miyamoto, wife of director Juzo Itami. It’s a romantic movie not just because Goro is in love with Tampopo, but because the entire movie is in love with Tampopo. When watching this movie I truly can’t understand how anyone would NOT fall in love with Tampopo because I certainly did, and I think that’s because you can feel the love Itami has for Miyamoto in every scene, every shot. You can tell when directors love the actors they work with, but I think it’s rare to feel the director is in love with the actor they’re working with, and that brings a different quality to Tampopo’s story, performance, and how she’s shot in the film. 

It’s a romantic comedy crossed with a Western (the movie was marketed as a “Ramen Western” in Japan, rather than a spaghetti western), and the plot’s commitment to the western trope of a well-meaning drifter keeps Goro and Tampopo from being together. Goro’s role is not to find and wife up Tampopo, but rather to “help her find her ladder”. Goro acknowledges his place is not in a family, not Tampopo’s, and not even his own, because he “doesn’t know how to act in a happy home.” And I think it’s both perfect and heartbreaking that the movie makes their love feel so real, but also that a romance is not what the characters want or need from each other. Tampopo needed to find her ladder, transform her ramen shop, and provide for her son. Goro needs to keep on trucking (literally, for his job as a truck driver) and move on. The kind of relationship where the love is real, but maybe it’s the wrong place or wrong time, is one of the most heart wrenching to me, and aligns much more with Western movie tropes than rom-coms. 

Neither movies or love are straightforward, which is why these kinds of romantic comedies tend to hit the hardest for me. It’s okay to fall in love, even if it doesn’t work out, and learn something from it. Freeing romantic comedies from the formulaic conclusion of a permanent couple creates more space in these stories for more nuance, complexity in characters, and other personal priorities to also take center stage. 

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