A glance through the history of storytelling attests to our need to reflect on the follies and foibles of the human heart from a light if not comedic point of view. There are romcom elements to be found in a Sapphic poem and an Aristophanes comedy, where women ban sex in the name of peace. Even Chaucer gets down and dirty in the dismal Middle Ages, creating a Wife of Bath whose surprisingly radical episodic spin on casual sex can still raise eyebrows. Shakespeare found his own angle on matters of the heart with a comedic take on cross-dressing and frolics in forests. Putting it bluntly, humans have sex, hormones, form close attachments and create families of all different kinds – and writers try to make sense of these, and sometimes choose comedy to do so.
The impulse to write romantic comedy stories can take the form of a wish for our own lives – an antidote for the chaos or isolation around us. Creating romantic worlds and situations can remind us we’re in control – of our emotional destinies at least. Sometimes we can describe the simple goal of finding someone to travel along the bumpy road with, which might end in enduring love and commitment or simply show how passing strangers can make us feel better about ourselves and our lives. Creating a romantic comedy can also allow our imagination to play, to create, to take us out of the monotony of humdrum life, and to submerge ourselves unashamedly in feel-good and heartfelt emotions that normal life somehow represses.
In her book Romantic Comedy, Claire Mortimer (2010) explains how romantic comedy films show the wider changes going on in society. For instance, from the 1930s to the 1950s, finding love in order to get married was the be-all and end-all of romcoms, reaching a matrimonial pressure point with Doris Day and her pink pyjamas and pillow talk. The rise of feminism has had a huge impact on how we think about gender difference, sex and sexuality, love and marriage, with big implications for the romantic comedy. From the late 1990s onwards, the female protagonist began to dominate the genre, in stories that focused on her problems in life and in love. Sex and the City, 27 Dresses, Confessions of a Shopaholic, Last Holiday and Juno are good examples. They could be termed romantic dramedies but often go by the broader term ‘chick flick’.
But you can’t keep a good man down, and the era of the bromcom soon dawned. Certainly, male heterosexual pairings have been around for many decades in film and TV shows, such as Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, Cheers (Norm and Cliff’s pairing) and the various renditions of Sherlock and Watson. Sideways launched the ‘bromcom’, the male equivalent of the chick flick or girl buddy movie, which has since been followed up with films such as Pineapple Express, I Love You, Man and Due Date.
Fast forward to today, where the romantic comedy encompasses bromcom (boy buddies), zomromcom (zombie romantic comedies) and sorocom (girl buddies). The list of ever-evolving hybrids will only get longer – and though this might all seem like a bunch of convenient buzz words for marketing campaigns, it does go some way in showing that, like thriller and horror, the romantic comedy has finally ascended to the status of a ‘super-genre’.
There’s a writer behind all these stories. Somebody originated the germ of an idea and brought it to life. ‘Romantic comedy’ thus becomes a catch-all label for the myriad stories where a writer has chosen comedy to come up with a protagonist or group of protagonists who have a major and all-consuming problem with somebody else (or something else), who appears to be the source of all problems but who really is only trouble because of unresolved issues in the protagonist. Dealing with somebody else and finding yourself in the process takes up most of the time and effort in the modern romcom. As Jean-Paul Sartre so eloquently said, ‘Hell is other people.’ If other people are the hell of romantic comedy, the best route out of purgatory is healing yourself first. In this respect, creating one might involve you finding out more about yourself and love than you expected!
Romcoms have definitely become edgier, quirkier, darker, dirtier and steamier in recent years. Films such as Moonrise Kingdom, Before Midnight, Silver Linings Playbook and (500) Days of Summer reflect writers finding unexplored terrain and asking new questions. Taboos are no longer off limits with the advent of gross-out comedy, subversive storylines and ambiguity of meaning. Boundaries keep shifting and today it’s not uncommon for one film to encompass many different tones, types of comedy and more subtle and ambiguous emotional arcs where characters’ love can grow over years. And despite the now very old cliché that romance is for women, a lot more male protagonists crave love and affection in this super-genre today. But do we give male romantic comedy heroes more fun and freedom than females – are ‘guy’ problems in love different to ‘girl’ ones?
SUB-GENRES, TYPES AND HYBRIDS
Art is not science, and genre theory and its focus on categorisation and labels demonstrates how the critical/rational mind likes to find a way of making sense of story types. As we want to emphasise, labelling or categorising your romcom project in generic terms too early in the development process can actually box you in, and cause too many limitations or anxieties early on. Alternatively, if you’re purposely setting out to fuse two or three genres in a way that hasn’t been done before, it can help to explore those other genres first. Hybrids can soar – and they can fall on their swords. Shaun of the Dead is a bromedy/zomromcom and was a big hit. Silver Linings Playbook – a dramedy/famromcom – ditto. Reviews were far more mixed about This Means War, an espionage/romcom, and Killers, an espionage/action/romcom.
Sometimes your genre can change and evolve during development, depending on where you take the protagonist and the kind of journey you give them. A two-hander might turn into a bromcom, for example, or a combination thereof. Bridesmaids, for example, is a dramedy/romantic comedy but not quite a romantic dramedy. It follows Annie as she comes to terms with her best friend’s marriage, and has to deal with her own low self-esteem. Part of this process, but not central to it, is her relationship with a traffic cop. When Annie finally forgives herself and manages to change her negative outlook of the world, she’s ready to engage in a non-self-destructive relationship with a man who cares for her instead of using her.
The Hangover is a bromcom/chumcom with a small element of romcom. It follows as its central story drive a group of guys who are old friends – some brothers – on a stag week. The small romcom element comes through Stu the dentist’s storyline. He has a bully and nag of a wife and on his journey finds love with a ‘tart with a heart’ single mother hooker.
Imagine a film where a hen party encounters a stag party. Depending on what happens and who the protagonists are, the screenplay could be sold as a romcom, a bromcom, a chumcom, a dramedy – or a combination of them all!
Let’s start by looking at some of the most popular genre labels for the films we want to write that deal with matters of the heart in a comedic way.
The classic romcom
Boy and Girl (or same-sex version) meet each other and, after largely emotional trials and tribulations, come together by the end. These stories are all about finding your soulmate and permanently healing the emotional scars that have got in the way of finding love previously. The classic romantic comedy can be high-concept, where the writer firmly places the main character in a situation riddled with conflict and dramatic irony to push them into being forced to change. Pretty Woman, When Harry Met Sally and Sleepless in Seattle were pre-millennial boy-meets-girl Hollywood films that set the standard for the classic romcom. We can call them classic romcoms because of their cute meets and predictable endings of the couple’s union. More recent versions include What Happens in Vegas, The Proposal and The Five-Year Engagement.
The DNA of the classic romcom includes:
The romantic dramedy
Boy meets Girl has evolved into the solo protagonist (of any gender) with a problem – and this problem gets in the way of them forming a relationship with anybody, let alone the person who might be staring them in the face. Sometimes the romantic aspect to a dramedy revolves around loss or loneliness, and the challenge is for the protagonist to learn to have a better relationship with him or herself. Hope for a better relationship in the future can come as a kind of reward for the hard emotional work the protagonist has undertaken through the story.
Protagonists can be male or female in the romantic dramedy, but the female protagonist in particular has come into her own with a big focus on internal conflicts that create outer issues. Woody Allen’s relationship comedies fall into this category, where his main characters go on journeys of self-exploration triggered by the irritants or worse of other people. The ‘significant other’ in a dramedy – the one who causes problems – can be another woman. Examples include In Her Shoes, where a sister is the cause of resentment, and Bridesmaids, where the loss of a friend who’s getting married is the trigger to a downward spiral for the protagonist. In Last Holiday, store assistant Georgia finds out she’s going to die, and decides to liquidate her life savings to treat herself to the luxury holiday she’s never been able to take. Her reward is learning how deeply loved she is – and that she isn’t going to die after all!
The DNA of the romantic dramedy includes:
The bromcom
Formerly known as the male buddy movie, the bromcom gives male audiences a window on male friendship, emulating the familiar patterns of romcoms or romantic dramedies. In these stories, Boy meets potential male friend but internal conflicts get in the way of a good friendship. Often the male protagonist has low-self-esteem issues, something triggered by his inner (often unconscious) conflicts around conventional masculinity. He could be a ‘loser’, as far from the alpha male romantic hero as you can get.
Bromcoms can involve a romantic element in the form of a relationship with a woman, and the journey of friendship has a knock-on positive effect on the male protagonist’s capacity to be a better boyfriend. Bromcoms can also be ensemble stories, where a group of guys go through a bonding experience and emerge with a better sense of who they are. Examples include The Hangover and 21 & Over.
The DNA of the bromcom includes:
The sorocom
Perhaps it is time for the sorocom to come into its own, away from its overgeneralised ‘chick flick’ label or the non-female-specific ‘dramedy’ category. In Her Shoes, Frances Ha and any film that tells a story and celebrates the need for women and friendship, particularly the uniqueness of female friendship, without a complicated romance as subplot, would be the defining DNA. In other words, a genuinely female equivalent of the bromcom. The Heat is an example of an action sorocom, where two tough female cops form an unlikely partnership – and there are going to be quite a few more of those as women leads continue to enter action and crime territory in roles that aren’t just victim, love interest, or nasty antagonist.
The chumcom
Similar to the bromcom but without the straight male emphasis, the chumcom could be a term for those films that focus on platonic, odd-couple partnerships that involve either the same sex or the opposite sex. ‘Chum’ is the word – there’s no romantic or sexual subtext, or, if there is, it tends not to take over. That said, Julio and Tenoch in Y Tu Mamá También did end up in a passionate embrace, which on one hand was the logical conclusion of a raw and competitive friendship, but on the other hand put a stop to their friendship.
Chumcoms essentially poke fun at the headaches that working partnerships or friendships can cause. Again, the trials and tribulations of the friendship are under scrutiny here and function as the main cause of outer problems. Identity Thief, My Best Friend’s Wedding and Gayby are examples of chumcoms.
The DNA of the chumcom includes:
The famcom
A comedic focus on the problems caused by families is an offshoot of dramedy. The protagonist has to deal with issues that being with their families creates or triggers, or long unresolved family wounds finally come to an ugly and often hilarious head. The family is the main source of conflict in this type of story, where ‘You can’t live with them and you can’t live without them’ is the modus operandi. The family can also be that of the protagonist’s loved one – where potential or actual in-laws reveal the nightmare that they inevitably will be, such as in The Family Stone. Guilt Trip is another example of the famcom, where a son goes on a road trip with his mother that ultimately leads to them breaking entrenched dynamics, and understanding and appreciating one another a lot more than before the journey. The journey results in healthier self-esteem for both mother and son, and a better way of connecting with other people. This is also the case in The Descendants, in which a father develops a better relationship with his daughters.
Where it’s the family causing relationship problems between the protagonist and their partner, the ‘famcom’ might be more accurately termed a ‘famromcom’. A successful forerunner of this type was Meet the Parents. The films 2 Days in Paris and 2 Days in New York might also be considered famromcoms in that the female protagonist and her partner are put under huge pressure by the demanding and conflictual dynamics generated by her demanding and ever-present French family.
The DNA of the famcom includes:
The bioromcom
The possibilities for genre hybrids are endless. Take for example Julie & Julia – a delightful biopic/comedy/chumcom/romcom. The romcom element comes from the enduring and comedic love story between Julia and her husband. The chumcom comes from Julie having Julia as her muse.
The DNA of a bioromcom includes:
Without running the risk of getting into silly territory, we might even suggest that there are more types of romcom on our screens today, with more types to come. These can and might include:
As we can see, sometimes it can just be a case of adding a romantic storyline to another genre in order to shake it up and give the screenplay saleability. For example, the romance in RED gave what might have been a geronto action movie a gerontocom flavour.
What next, we might ask? Scificom? Paranormacom? Perhaps these already exist – and maybe you’re already writing one yourself…
QUICK INSIGHT
Andrew Horton is the Jeanne H Smith Professor of Film and Media Studies at the University of Oklahoma, an award-winning screenwriter, and the author of 30 books on film, screenwriting and cultural studies.
Some of my favourite romantic comedies
Never on Sunday. I knew Melina Mercouri and Jules Dassin personally, but it’s not because of just that. Jules was blacklisted and went to live in France. He wrote, directed and starred in Never on Sunday with his wife, Milena, about an American coming to Greece. He’s called Homer, in love with ancient Greece, and then he falls in love with a prostitute. He tries to change her so he can ‘be’ ancient Greece, but she’s dealing with modern Greece. He was blacklisted – you don’t get the romantic comedy ending at the end. She finally tells him, just when you’re waiting for the happy ending, ‘Homer, go home.’ Fantastic!
One of my favourite people is Preston Sturges, so The Lady Eve is way up there for me. I love that romantic comedy formula that the women are usually cleverer than the guys. She’s just trying to screw the money out of him, and yes, of course, they do fall in love. Very different people, they somehow work it out, but it plays with the genre at the end.
Last one, but not least – The Day I Became a Woman, an Iranian film, with three stories with three females. One is a little girl who can’t play anymore because she’s about to become ten. She asks her grandmother, ‘What time is it?’ and she works out she’s got one hour to be a girl and play with her male friends. At the end of the film, her mother dresses her in adult Muslim women’s clothes.
The end of Fargo tells you it’s a romantic comedy, too. ‘I love you.’ ‘I love you too.’ It’s all in the ending.
EXERCISE – Know your genre
Use the following premise and flesh it out in different ways to change its genre potential, from a) a classic romcom, to b) a bromcom or a sorocom, and then to c) a famcom. You’ll need to look at each genre and change things like protagonist, world, journey and theme accordingly.
Tom is a workaholic. Since leaving university, he’s climbed the management ladder and moved from company to company to give himself new challenges and earn more money. Larissa is also a high-achiever but, unlike Tom, doesn't work hard at all – she’s a genius who can turn water into wine. She’s thought about having a family but isn't sure what she wants her role in life to be. Tom and Larissa meet one lunchtime at a trendy sandwich shop – where both of them want the last dark rye sourdough roll.
MATTERS OF THE HEART
From the quantity and quality of romcoms in the marketplace, the appeal of stories about the simple challenge of connecting intimately with another, and the need for true friendships, it’s obvious that the genre isn’t going away any time soon. Romcoms offer a wide variety of films that meet deep human needs, and the proliferation of romcom types means that you, the writer, can choose and develop a story that reflects what you want to say about the human need for connection – albeit in a light tone – without too many restrictions. The Other Woman, My Best Friend’s Wedding, (500) Days of Summer, Monster-in-Law and Before Midnight all tell very different stories and to some extent appeal to very different audiences.
Serving matters of the heart, the romcom is a genre that’s all about negotiating what it means to be human and connect with others. It’s complicated enough being human today and managing your own life, let alone sharing it with other people. But as we’ve discussed, the blurred lines between romantic comedy, romantic dramedy (or dramantic comedy) and dramedy suggest that we need stories, now more than ever, about our lonely and confused identities and the problems they can create in connecting with others.
Romcoms can tell these stories and satisfy audiences through original characters, compellingly emotional stories, diverse comedic tones, familiar and unfamiliar worlds and a host of distinctive styles.
WORLD CINEMA
Is romantic comedy a Hollywood-dominated genre? Undoubtedly, most of the hallmark classic romcoms have emerged out of the US over decades, from the studio-produced screwballs of the 1930s, right up to today’s indies, such as Ruby Sparks and (500) Days of Summer. But just as love is a human condition that knows no boundaries, romantic comedies, where love is explored with humour, emerge out of almost every filmmaking culture. In the UK, the film production company Working Title has achieved huge success with a string of Richard Curtis romantic comedies, including Four Weddings and a Funeral, Love Actually, Notting Hill and About Time, not to mention the Bridget Jones franchise. In France, romantic comedies abound. International hits include Amelie, I Do, Populaire, Romantics Anonymous, 2 Days in Paris and The Draw. And no, they aren’t all set in Paris, the city of romance! From further afield, Nollywood – the Nigerian film industry – has a long tradition of the romantic comedy. Flower Girl is a classic but recent romcom set in Lagos, in which Kemi pursues marriage with career-obsessed Umar and gets the help of superstar Tunde to help her in her mission.
But it’s Bollywood that’s dominated the output of what we might call the musical romantic dramedy. Indian culture seems to thrive on stories of the heart, where love and family take precedence over work and careers. This has resulted in a vast number of ‘epic’ musical romantic dramedies, many of them lasting for three or four hours and, unfortunately, not a lot of them ‘making it’ in Western culture. But things are changing, and many of today’s Bollywood films are embracing – for better or for worse – more ‘Western’ tropes of storytelling. And here’s where the romantic comedy really has potential.
The recent film 2 States is a good example of this pretty major shift. It's well structured and well paced – and it’s really funny! The story follows Krish, a Punjabi MBA student, who meets Ananya, a student from South India. And here’s where the comedy begins. In true romcom fashion, Krish and Ananya fall in love – but what’s interesting about this story, set in the context of Indian culture, is that the comedy and conflict come mainly from their parents’ reactions to the relationship, not just the situations they find themselves in. It’s a story of North versus South, with Krish and Ananya representing both the traditions of and the prejudices towards their respective states. And so, after some initial comedic conflict relating to their own perspectives on the relationship, it’s a case of ‘bring in the parents and let the comedy ensue!’ It’s expected in Indian culture that sons and daughters have the utmost respect for elders – and so Krish and Ananya’s love is tested by their loyalty to their parents and their culture. Beliefs, values, habits and expectations thus provide ample fuel for comedic conflict. Whether it’s related to eating habits, dress tastes or educational abilities, this film puts its protagonists on a hilarious journey to find acceptance, happiness and love.
With a slightly more ‘out there’ story, Queen follows the story of Rani, a 24-year-old living in Delhi, who, two days before her wedding, is jilted by her fiancé, Vijay. In the context of Indian culture, this kind of ‘shunning’ is a pretty big issue. And so for Rani, who comes from a conservative and proud family – who are just learning about webcams! – her world really has come crashing down. She nevertheless bites the bullet and decides to go on the honeymoon to Europe that she and Vijay had already booked. This begins for her a journey of discovery, where, although there are hints of romance with new friend Oleksander, the person she really falls in love with is herself. Rani meets many friends on her adventure, leading to comedic encounters in nightclubs, tourist spots and at food stalls. But through these raucous scenes, Rani learns about freedom and self-belief. This is emphasised by mentor character, Vijayalakshmi, a French-Spanish--Indian woman who works in the hotel where Rani is staying. Seeing the very different lifestyle she leads – including sex, smoking, drinking and dancing – Rani learns about life, and how to respect herself. Her emotional arc is that she’ll no longer be at the beck-and-call of a man like Vijay – which, of course, also says something about traditional Indian culture.
Queen might therefore be best described as a romantic dramedy, and follows other films such as Waitress, Goddess and Leap Year – films in which, amongst the comedy and the romance or flirtation, the real story (theme) is about learning to love oneself as a prerequisite to a good relationship.
QUICK INSIGHT
Stayci Taylor, a screenwriter, playwright and comedian researching female perspectives in mainstream comedy screenplays for her PhD at RMIT University.
What does romance look like in the 21st century?
There’s still an expectation that women in romantic comedies should not only be partial to the idea of marriage, but desperate for it, leaving male characters with a plethora of infinitely more interesting options. Most of these involve escaping the marriage trap – whether to maintain their slacker lifestyle (spend more time with the boys) – or maintain their playboy lifestyle (spend more time with the girls). That these narratives trade exclusively upon what women are supposed to be like and what men are supposed to be like reflects little of the 21st century world we live in, and are reductive for both our female and male characters – although at least the men aren’t restricted by a very narrow set of age, size and beauty criteria.
Most romantic comedies still cling to the wedding as an inevitable resolution, which fails to reflect the more complex and fascinating desires in a diverse 21st century reality. And, worse, this contributes to a popular cultural landscape already saturated in narratives where only heterosexual, monogamous, procreative relationships will result in any sort of contentment – especially for women – thus creating subtle or not-so-subtle unease in those who live outside those frameworks by either choice or circumstance.
Add to this the ubiquity of middle-class, white characters in well-heeled suburbs and it’s no wonder we find ourselves unable to differentiate between one romantic comedy and another – they all blur into one mass of bridal fittings and contrived, gender-based misunderstandings. That’s not to say there can’t be well-crafted, funny and pleasurable romantic comedies with all of the above elements. But they work best, I think, when the writer is committed to a certain cultural specificity – I rarely tire of watching Nora Ephron’s New York or Richard Curtis’s London. But how invigorated might the genre be if infused with every writer’s unique perspectives?
When Nia Vardalos remained true to hers for My Big Fat Greek Wedding, the box office spoke for itself. And, amongst some of the many fine features of that screenplay – including a female protagonist who shared the ordinary, struggling character traits that serve comedy so well (usually reserved for male characters) – the wedding of the title wasn’t an unquestioned inevitability, but a dilemma, given voice to in a narrative so culturally specific that the pressure on the character to get married wasn’t assumed to be universal.
What is universal, of course, is love – and it’s a missed opportunity for the romantic comedy genre that so few reveal the multiple ways in which love manifests in people’s lives, beyond straight, white, marriage-focused, gender-stereotypical narratives. Of course, writing the script is no guarantee of getting the film made, but I still believe the romantic comedy screenplay that idiosyncratically embraces one of the many and varied ways people find love – within their own circles, circumstances, cities, communities, campuses, cultures, countries and, increasingly, computers – might liberate a slew of even more refreshing romantic comedy narratives beyond desperate white women chasing reluctant white men.
CASE STUDY: The Sessions
The Sessions is a heartfelt romantic dramedy about Mark, a writer who was left severely disabled after contracting childhood polio and who lives most of his life in an iron lung, supported by carers. It’s essentially about a man who wants to lose his virginity, but who can’t move his body, let alone touch himself. A very human-centred dramatic irony shapes the situation of this rare protagonist. Mark’s physical longings form what Giglio calls the ‘inappropriate goal’ of comedy. He wants to have sex, so determines he needs to pay for it, when what he really needs is to feel somebody can fall in love with him for who he is inside.
The tone of The Sessions is, overall, dramedic with some hilarious moments. The film features a unique blend of dark humour, wit, withering remarks, irony, sarcasm, irreverence, self-deprecation and cringe-making physical humour, which lifts it from the dramatic pathos of Mark’s acute sense of loneliness and powerlessness. The emotional tone could be called ‘compassionate’ with some ‘awkwardness’ thrown into the mix, which is mainly achieved through the complex characterisation of Mark and the people who care for him and on whom he practically and emotionally depends. We’re able to get to know him from many different angles, but most importantly from his own perspective via the use of voice-over.
Mark is first introduced to us in old footage of his graduation, where he crosses the stage on a gurney. We’re told by the anchorman how Mark’s determination teaches us that ‘courage and perseverance overcome obstacles’. Mark’s voice-over quickly takes charge – he introduces himself to us along with his very specific world view. His night-time companions are his iron lung, his computer and the cat that comes in to sit on his breathing machine in lieu of a lap. When the cat’s fur tickles him, we’re let into the infinite challenges of Mark’s unique reality – ‘Shit. Scratch with your mind. Scratch with your mind.’
This, just like the anchorman’s words, is loaded with double meaning in a story about one man’s quest to achieve physical intimacy. At this early point, Mark believes he’s doomed to only scratch any itch with his mind. The Sessions is all about Mark’s journey to becoming a vibrant sexual man, who learns to love his body and to be able to give pleasure to women. He calls his carer a ‘crazy bitch’ who he wants to sack because she makes him feel powerless. In revenge, he gets an erection when she’s washing him and fantasises about getting rid of her. Mark turns to new priest Father Brendan for spiritual guidance on the matter, worried about his own petty need for vengeance, telling him ‘I believe in God with a sense of humour’ in reference to his own state. Father Brendan, a practical man, advises Mark to go ahead with the dismissal and ‘find someone nice’.
Mark’s relationship with his priest is based on spiritual guidance, friendship and, on Father Brendan’s side, non-judgemental empathy and moral dilemma. It’s to him that Mark discloses he has a shelf life, and that he’s a virgin. He doesn’t want to die without being close to a woman, yet can’t do anything about his private desires in a conventional sense – or so he believes. With all situations in his life other than the freedom of his mind, he depends on others to carry out his will. Mark convinces himself that this obviously very human ‘goal’ is all he needs, and, in a way, we the audience are convinced by it too. But this is really a smokescreen for a deeper need for human connection. When he falls in love with the replacement carer, Amanda, and declares his love for her, she can’t cope with his request to take their relationship further – not least because she has a boyfriend. Amanda is replaced by Chinese, stoic and seemingly humourless Vera, who’s not the conventional pretty girl he dreams of touching and kissing.
Mark’s solution seems to be paying for sex with a surrogate – someone skilled in working with physically challenged people. Cheryl, the surrogate, is a caring, professional and sensitive woman. She’s also married to her philosopher househusband and they have one son. It’s through Cheryl’s point of view, combined with Mark’s voice-over, that we follow their journey through the planned six therapy sessions. Cheryl is determined to keep up professional boundaries, while Mark’s feelings become more complex. His goal of sex is sharply contrasted with his obvious need for emotional intimacy and a real relationship. We also understand that his loneliness is due not just to his incarceration in the iron lung and his disabled state, but also to his immense guilt that his sister died in childhood.
Cheryl is the only person to connect with Mark as a human being first and foremost, who sees the man, the little hurt boy inside who needs to forgive himself, and the lover who desperately needs reciprocated love. Despite her best efforts to keep things professional, Cheryl’s compassion is soon aroused by Mark. He actively, and somewhat charismatically, transgresses the boundaries and wants a date, before declaring his love in the form of a ‘love poem to nobody in particular’. Cheryl’s husband discovers the letter and they fight, only for Cheryl to realise that she’s crossed the emotional line with Mark. The break-up is inevitable, both of them equally conflicted. They terminate the six sessions at the fifth, and Mark descends into heartbreak and loneliness. One night, when his generator breaks down, Mark loses oxygen and nearly dies. It’s at the hospital that he meets volunteer Susan and relates to her as an attractive woman. Here we see the extent to which Cheryl has facilitated Mark’s new sexual confidence and determination to connect with women as a man who feels equal, rather than the self-hating fantasist of his former self. We later find out that Mark marries Susan, who becomes the love of his life until his death several years later.
The Sessions is about a man in an awful, lifelong situation with seemingly no way out. He depends on the goodwill of strangers until a non-judgemental, unique human being arrives in his life and helps him heal his physical and emotional wounds. Just like the priest, Cheryl shows another side to Mark – the vulnerability and fear behind the witty, defensive and self-deprecating tone. Everyone who cares for Mark is given point of view, so their understandings, dilemmas and concerns are shared with us. This multidimensional perspective achieves a depth of humanity that is profound and shows how diverse and deep a ‘romantic comedy’ can go.
The sheer warmth of the tone of The Sessions is also achieved by a focus on the connection between people, where conflicts are gentle but internal conflicts are potentially ‘life’ threatening. Death looms, but it’s never described with fear, dread or self-pity – only pathos, wit and acceptance. Susan, Vera, Cheryl and Amanda, each in their own way, are caring, coping, nurturing, feeling, connecting, respecting, reflecting, and sharing Mark’s ordeal with him. There are very few scenes where the ‘ego’ creates conflict and, where these do exist, they usually involve tertiary characters. The dominant actions taken by all the characters are fundamentally compassionate and non-aggressive.
After Mark dies, even the cat, his nightly visitor, sits on his empty iron lung, missing his presence. Like the cat, we miss Mark and value his contribution to our lives because this compassionate romantic dramedy has let us in, to share his journey intimately – without overt manipulation, but with plenty of honest emotional truth, tender respect for individuals and clever wit.
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