These films were rich with genuine, sincere ardor, and while they bore all the artistry and seriousness many expect from foreign and independent films, they still captured some of the core elements of what draws many of us to romantic comedies. These films featured variations on meet-cutes, that demonstrated the intoxicating euphoria (and the resulting vicarious gooey feeling in your chest) of falling in love and eventually addressed the question of whether a couple will remain together.
What distinguished these films as something better than romantic comedies, however, was their unwillingness to sacrifice the realistic nuances and complexities of relationships. If romantic comedies are fantasies, then this wave of cinematic romances were more like mirrors. They portray fragments of relationships many viewers—especially those who have been in relationships—can recognize (or, at the very least, have read about in dating columns): the awkward fumbling of first-time sex (The Spectacular Now), the intimacy of goofing around in bed (Enough Said), the compromises made in a relationship to keep a relationship alive (Before Midnight), the paradox of deeply loving someone yet still entertaining the question, “What if there’s someone else?” (Drinking Buddies), the idea that some love rewards us with growth, not a happily-ever-after (Her).
These films still capture the deeply relatable idyllic honeymoon stages of early love; however, they do so in not only a more realistic way, but also in order to eventually push towards even greater truth. More specifically, this truth: Love is not always easy, nor is it always successful. These romances—with their hiccups and outright fallouts—understand that the greatest challenge around love is succeeding in keeping it alive.
Love doesn’t always stay alive, or stay healthy, in these films. Characters grow up and then away from each other (like Adele and Emma in Blue is the Warmest Color or Samantha and Theo in Her). Couples drift apart when the small cuts of disagreement get infected over years (Celine and Jesse in Before Midnight). Tragedy threatens to break apart what seemed unbreakable (Elise and Didier in The Broken Circle Breakdown when their child falls seriously ill). Despite all appearances to the contrary, this doesn’t make these movies any less romantic. In giving us the beginning and end of a relationship, these may not always be strictly speaking happy portrayals of romance, but they are complete ones.
And in that completeness they become more truthful, resonant, and fuller portraits of love. Which is to say, in their aspirations for realism, they do a better job of synchronizing themselves to our experiences because they understand them. In that they also prove they understand the other fundamental truth about love: It requires two people, and people are not perfect. The biggest threat to a relationship is often the people in it. As Junot Diaz—the author of some of this decade’s most acclaimed stories about love and all its dysfunctions—once put it: “Love is the great test of the human… Love is so difficult, it is so challenging, it demands of us that we wreck it with ourselves.”