There is something that feels cathartic about the ice-cream, the blankets and the rom-com. Suddenly, you’re disappointed in Benedict Bridgerton or screaming for Belly Conklin to make up her mind. Something about the culture of watching romances or rom-coms has stood the test of time. It’s the comfort or the smallest rekindling of hope that you’d get something remotely similiar to a confession in the rain. No. In reality romance is mundane and normal and grounded; there’s no dramatic confession or someone singing in the bleachers. I thought that it was purely some fantastical escapism.

So, why do we watch rom-coms or period pieces? Why do we swoon over confessions and second chances? I don’t think we as an audience have an answer to that, not entirely at least. Notting Hill with ice cream or pop corn is a ritual and nothing else; When Harry Met Sally is nothing but a rewatch. Putting this label on the rom-com or the habit of watching them feels a little harsh. This genre has done its bidding and given us just enough hope to remain delusional. At the end of the day, it could feel like a heavy dose of saccharine, but it could also be a hard pill of reality. There is so much in a rom-com that we tend to overlook in favour of Julia Roberts or Hugh Grant.

Think of Bridgerton. It’s not a rom-com and I enjoy the show and the downfall of almost all its characters before they come to terms with the concept of love. Bridgerton or the romance of it was never for me. I watched Bridgerton for Eloise; someone who was an extension of Jo March. I watched it for Benedict Bridgerton, the tortured artist with an inferiority complex. I loved the subplots more than the slow-burns and the chemistry. Things eventually changed. I started rooting for Benedict and Sophie and Francesca and John. At the end of the day, I still preferred the friendships and found family arcs of the show, but I was also on the sidelines, rooting for the slow-burns and pining.

I don’t think the rom-com genre is for everyone. It certainly wasn’t meant for me and I will die on that hill. Then again, I spent all my life unintentionally entangled in love songs. After rewatching a few films, I thought I’d look at it a little differently. Rom-coms aren’t for everyone, but they can be. Maybe you watch it for the friend group or the found family trope (the only reason that you need to watch Notting Hill) or for the soundtrack that has now become a Taylor Swift, Bleachers mash-up. Everyone’s takeaway is going to be different but that’s the beauty of the rom-com phenomenon, which extends to the period piece. Sure, you’re not in it for most of it, but you’re in it for something. It could be the only movie on a long flight or the only thing that’s in cinemas. Maybe it’s a guilty pleasure or a comfort watch.

Maybe I have romanticised it. Not every love story or connection feels like an Olivia Dean number. Sometimes, it’s Jeff Buckley or Phoebe Bridgers. On the flip side, you have the happy go lucky musical. I rewatched Mamma Mia and I found myself laughing to tears. I don’t even know what genre of film it is; it’s a flimsy plot that’s an excuse to cram in an ABBA karaoke session. I could say this about most movies I grew up with; there was singing and dancing and the guy getting the girl. Everything was neat and specific. At times everything became a fever dream, and you were at the centre of it.

This is to say that the rom-com genre is filtered with issues. There is an blatant lack of diversity scattered across the genre; most rom-coms feature predominantly white, heterosexual couples. In recent years this has shifted, and a large part of it can be owed to book to screen adaptations. To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before is a breath of fresh air and a subversion of the genre altogether. Showrunners have also integrated diverse casting into shows like The Summer I turned Pretty and Bridgerton. This has given audiences everywhere a chance to see themselves on screen and relate to stories that are centred around love and the messy intricacies of it.

And we always crave it. The car chase scene at the end of Notting Hill or Gilbert running to Anne in Anne with an E still give us the feels. Benedict showing up to court to defend Sophie, Belly finally making up her mind and Meryl Streep singing The winner takes it all is worth it if you kept up with the fumbles of these characters and their arcs; it’s worth the ice cream and screaming at the TV screen. For what it’s worth it’s just a bit of technicolour before the rains kick in. A rom-com is a fixture for a reason; maybe it’s the music or the sub-plot or maybe it’s the idea of love.

Image credit: Joel Timothy via Unsplash