Rom-Coms Embrace the 'Unlucky-in-Love Sociopath' Trope

It’s a long-running romcom trope that the couples we’re supposed to root for are often hiding lies that threaten the chances of any happy relationship blossoming. From classics such as The Shop Around the Corner to modern blockbusters such as How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, the genre thrives whenever it presents the audience with the most alarming red flags it conceals from its characters, raising the stakes by seeing if sparks can still fly when an ulterior motive behind each meet-cute is hidden in plain sight.

In the romantic comedies we’ve seen so far this year, this trope has not only been revived but pushed far beyond its breaking point, cementing a new romcom archetype: the unlucky-in-love sociopath. This week’s new release Finding Emily is the starkest example to date, introducing psychology student Emily (Angourie Rice), whose desperation to find a good case study for her dissertation essay on the self-destructive nature of love leads to her concocting a machiavellian scheme to paint university student Owen (Spike Fearn) as an obsessive stalker.

Owen is a kind-hearted employee of her university’s student union bar, only meeting Emily after his search to find a different Emily he danced with the previous night leads him in the wrong direction. After she sees him plant posters around the campus, Rice’s Emily decides to help him as fuel for coursework she should have handed in already, faking his signature on consent forms, secretly recording their every conversation, and insisting he make grand public gestures that paint him in a bad light. With this being a romantic comedy, certain tropes must be adhered to and feelings gradually form between the two, but the initial lie has cast such a destructive shadow over Owen’s life that it doesn’t feel triumphant for the audience when he realises it was more than just a friend who betrayed him.

Last month, audiences were treated to another romcom sociopath in Halle Bailey’s Anna Montgomery, the heroine of the frothy You, Me & Tuscany. A house-sitter who lives vicariously through her clients and imagines their lives as her own, we’re introduced to her getting fired after getting caught wearing clothes that don’t belong to her – which yes, does include underwear. After a one-night stand with a handsome Italian man, she saves photos of his glamorous Tuscan villa and flies to Europe to squat there, justifying her presence to his family by pretending she is his new fiancee. It’s red flag after red flag in a haphazard scheme to maintain a life of luxury on someone else’s dime, and the fact she successfully wins over another new interest during this ruse is less shocking than the Italian family forgiving her because they found her that charming.

This trope of a relationship built on a lie was very deliberately weaponised in Kristoffer Borgli’s hit black comedy The Drama, which juxtaposes one mundane white lie – Charlie (Robert Pattinson) pretending to have read a book he sees Emma (Zendaya) reading so he could talk to her – with her choice to conceal from him the worst thing she’s ever done. The genius of The Drama isn’t just that Emma is far less of a sociopath than many of those judging her for her teenage planning ofa crime she didn’t go through with, but that it exposes why modern romantic comedies are making their love interests far more extreme. These are characters who likely would have swiped left on each other if they didn’t meet in the real world due to lack of immediate shared interests, with Charlie’s planned wedding speech notably lacking any specificity about his wife-to-be. Our lives are more online than ever, but the genre can’t reflect that if it wants to maintain any dramatic tension, meaning film-makers are taking more extreme approaches in concealing red flags from each character that reinforce younger audiences’ attitudes towards dating.

The concept of a real-life meet-cute is growing increasingly alien in a world where more relationships are beginning online, and many reports point towards gen Z opting out of the dating market altogether. The revival of romcoms aimed at millennial and gen-Z audiences coincides with a need to reflect this sea change in how young people approach relationships, which is why we’re starting to see an influx of stories that feel more like cautionary tales than traditional examples of the genre. We’re still a world away from a horror movie subversion of the meet-cute such as the thriller Fresh, where Daisy Edgar-Jones unwittingly locked eyes with cannibal Sebastian Stan in a grocery store, but film-makers in both genres seem keenly aware that the digital world provides barriers to dating nightmares like these. Neither can function as well if you get to know somebody first and block them before any carnage can ensue.

There are, of course, plenty of horror stories about online dating to be told; there’s a cottage industry of true crime documentaries such as The Tinder Swindler which revel in the horrors that could be inflicted upon you if you swipe right. The modern romcom remains stubbornly offline in comparison, largely because the love interests it presents wouldn’t be reflected well in a dating app bio. In a world where the most viral social posts about dating are from young people outlining their specific “icks” in potential partners, most of this new crop of romcom couples wouldn’t sustain a Bumble conversation if they had a better handle on each other’s personalities. With younger people remaining cynical about love and romcoms struggling to justify classic tropes in an online-driven dating world, these won’t be the last films in a wave that feels more harrowing than idealistic.