Rom-coms are trying to evolve, but glorifying unavailable men may be their fatal flaw
- I rewatched "The Wedding Planner" in honor of its 20th anniversary in 2021.
- I took issue with Steve Edison, an engaged man that falls for his wedding planner.
- Things haven't improved either: rom-coms still fail audiences by having leads pine after unavailable men.
In honor of the 20-year anniversary of "The Wedding Planner" on January 26, I decided to rewatch the 2001 romantic comedy.
While the predictable tale of a wedding planner that falls for one of her grooms is an entertaining jaunt back to a prime, yet formulaic, time for the romantic comedy genre, the film has several moments that have aged terribly.
There's one character in particular that irked me this time around, and his name is Steve Edison.
We meet the devilishly handsome bachelor (played by Matthew McConaughey), as he swoops in to save Mary Fiore (and her Gucci pump) from a high-velocity dumpster rolling down a hill. Noting that he smells like "sweet red plums and grilled cheese sandwiches," she faints in his arms.
The scene is early 2000s romantic comedy gold.
When Mary (played by Jennifer Lopez) awakens in the hospital, she's convinced Steve is her perfect match. He's a charming doctor with a dimpled smile and a barely-there Southern drawl that shows all the signs of a respectable, if not overly flirtatious, gentleman.
I certainly don't blame her for jumping at the opportunity. Because, on the evening of the accident, Steve attends an outdoor screening of "Two Tickets To Broadway" with Mary and almost kisses her.
However, any rom-com fan knows that there's always a catch. So, here it is: Steve is engaged to another woman, and Mary is planning their wedding.
A dance of flirtation and denial commences between the groom and the wedding planner. By the end of the movie, Steve leaves his fiancée, who remains clueless about the entanglement, on their wedding day to pursue Mary moments later.
After revisiting "The Wedding Planner," I was perplexed. Rather than viewing an engaged man that tests the waters with another woman as a terrible option for Mary, we're supposed to root for him. Steve, I soon realized, is just the tip of the iceberg.
If you look closely, there are carbon copies of this man everywhere in early 2000s romances
He appears in the form of a financier that refuses to settle down on "Sex and the City," a high school stud playing the field in "John Tucker Must Die," and a snobby college senior that publicly dumps his girlfriend in "Legally Blonde."
Sure, these on-screen characters are painted as archetypal "bad boys," but they're also the ultimate prize for the women chasing after them.
They're so desirable that "nice guys" like Aidan Shaw, Scott Tucker, and Emmett Richmond are pushed by the wayside in the protagonists' pursuit of the unattainable.
We're now experiencing a new generation... of the same guy
As conversations surrounding healthy relationships and gender equality have become more commonplace, the romantic comedy genre has progressed past its Katherine Heigl-dominated era (I'm referring to "The Ugly Truth" and "27 Dresses").
Despite more on-screen representation and nuanced plotlines, the challenge to wrangle in less-than-eager men persists.
In the 2018 romantic comedy "To All The Boys I Loved Before," based on Jenny Han's novel, Peter Kavinsky (Noah Centineo) reads Lara Jean Covey's secret love letter. In an attempt to make his ex-girlfriend jealous, the high schooler suggests that he and Lara Jean (played by Lana Condor) feign a romance.
She ends up developing feelings for Peter, who she admits remains "so obsessed" with his ex, and accepts him back even after learning that he wasn't completely honest about their ongoing relationship.
Sure, Lara Jean is seeking her own revenge on Peter's ex, but she feels like a backup option and forgives Peter's disloyalty before winning him over.
Another recent example is Gabriel, widely known as the "hot chef" on Netflix's 2020 show "Emily in Paris." Much like Steve, Gabriel (Lucas Bravo) omits the fact that he has a long-term girlfriend when he meets his American neighbor, Emily Cooper (Lily Collins).
After he realizes that his partner, Camille (Camille Razat), is friends with her, he continues to shamelessly flirt in the shadows, contemplates a threesome, and has sex with Emily as soon as he and Camille break up.
Not only does the series portray Gabriel as an irresistible, thrilling feat for the foreigner, but it also shows her drop all allegiance to Camille as soon as she smells opportunity.
While French critics have panned "Emily in Paris" for its clichés, I would argue that the larger issue lies in Emily's repeated and flagrant disregard for her friend.
Read more: The 23 most unrealistic moments from Netflix's 'Emily in Paris'
On-screen women are convinced they can change men
It's not only the men in other relationships that feed into this genre-wide problem. Audiences also see women pining for emotionally unavailable men.
On the 2020 Netflix show "Bridgerton," adapted from Julia Quinn's novels set in early 19th century London, Daphne Bridgerton (Phoebe Dynevor) yearns for Simon Basset (Regé-Jean Page), the Duke of Hastings, despite his vow to abstain from marriage and children.
Simon is transparent about his intentions, yet Daphne still turns down other proposals. Her fixation on the only man out of her reach leads her to compromise her honor.
Daphne, a "ruined woman" by Regency England's standards, convinces Simon to marry her with the understanding that they'll never have children. She claims to be satisfied but later pressures her husband to change his mind. At one point, she rapes him in an attempt to force him into having a family with her.
By the end of season one, Daphne essentially talks her husband out of his commitment, asserting that if he really loves her, he will let go of his long-standing desire not to have children. Simon gives in, and Daphne gives birth to a son, securing her happy ending after all.
The rules and customs of Regency England are much different from today's society, of course, but romanticizing a woman's quest to pin down and change a man is a blatant mistake, regardless of the context.
The Shonda Rhimes-produced series, which has a diverse cast and strong feminist undertones, doubles back by implying that if a woman tries hard enough, loves with enough ferocity, and is willing to cross unspeakable boundaries, she will get her way.
Can the romantic comedy genre exist without this character?
Even as the genre has evolved past some of its more problematic tropes and welcomed more diversity in the past two decades, it has continuously encouraged women to lust after (and fight over) the wrong partners.
In "Happiest Season" (2020), Abby Holland (Kristen Stewart) plans to propose to her girlfriend Harper Caldwell (Mackenzie Davis) while visiting the latter's family over the holidays.
Shortly before arriving, Harper tells Abby that she hasn't come out to her parents, who think she's bringing her friend home for Christmas.
Abby feels pressure to conceal her sexuality, lie to her girlfriend's family, and overlook Harper's decision to covertly go out with her ex-boyfriend. Convinced that Harper will become an ideal partner when she comes out to her family, Abby tolerates the poor treatment and ultimately stays with her.
While "Happiest Season" eliminates the unavailable man from the equation, it merely replaces him with another toxic love interest.
So, can this genre exist without this recurring, shape-shifting character?
I think so.
Maybe it looks more like "Palm Springs," a 2020 film that shows two people who individually work through their own burdensome pasts before deciding to be together, or "Crazy Rich Asians," a 2018 box office hit in which a couple prioritizes their mutually authentic love over shallow external pressure.
Perhaps it takes a note from "Someone Great," a 2019 Netflix original that admits it's OK to let go of a relationship that's not working.
Not every romantic comedy has to be about a breakup or push a moral lesson down an audience's throat. One of the reasons I consistently seek out the genre is because it can be entertainment for entertainment's sake, particularly when I need a dose of escapism.
I can still laugh at the ridiculousness of Steve's race through San Francisco traffic at the end of "The Wedding Planner," roll my eyes at Emily's inability to speak a lick of French on "Emily in Paris," and goggle at the ornate costumes on "Bridgerton."
However, I'd appreciate it if more of these movies and shows acknowledged that some men aren't worth fighting for and others will never change, regardless of what a woman does or says.
Because 20 years after audiences watched a single wedding planner tell an engaged pediatrician that she's tired of being a "magnet for unavailable men," we're still tuning into different variations of the same scene.