In June, the romantic drama “Materialists” debuted in theaters to generally positive reviews. The film, starring Dakota Johnson and directed by Celine Song, was praised for its social commentary and subversion of typical romance tropes.
Viewers on the film review site Letterboxd felt differently. The most liked review, “broke men propaganda needs to be stopped,” references the main character’s decision to marry working-class actor John over the wealthy, perfect-on-paper Harry.
Because women definitely need to be convinced of the virtue of marrying rich.
When we think about the romcoms that have remained in our collective consciousness, I think of films like “The Holiday” and “How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days,” which depict characters living in comfortable apartments in big cities, complete with endless closets and constant free time. And all while working in flourishing industries like journalism and publishing.
I can tell you firsthand how far a journalism paycheck gets you, and it’s definitely not Andie Anderson’s wardrobe.
University of Minnesota communications doctoral candidate Emily Scroggins said romantic comedies rely on the wish-fulfillment of the audience.
“With this sort of romance element in films, a lot of it relies on the suspension of disbelief of ‘I want to be immersed in the fantasy,’” Scroggins said. “And part of the fantasy is being cared for in all ways, and that includes financially.”
The appeal in these films goes beyond a desire for true love. When watching romcoms, women want to put themselves into the main characters’ shoes. These women have it all: beauty, a nice apartment, an exciting career and, now, a husband.
Other films like “Pretty Woman” portray working-class women being swept away from a life of poverty through the love of a wealthy man. This type of Cinderella story is a tale as old as time, implicitly tying the pursuit of love to social mobility.
University mass communications assistant professor Ruth DeFoster said American cultural values related to financial success influence the idealized stories told through romcoms.
“I do think that there’s something intimately tied here to this idea of the American dream ideology,” DeFoster said. “And that looks like material success. Not every culture, not every country prioritizes that.”
United States culture has also historically held a limiting view on what romance should look like, with the idea of the nuclear family dominating our worldview for decades.
Although this type of family structure is less common today, tradwife influencers like TikTok creator Hannah Neeleman seek to keep the tradition alive by promoting conservative views of femininity.
DeFoster noted how these influencers rely on their husbands’ wealth to maintain that lifestyle.
“She has a whole team of people behind the scenes, housekeepers, nannies, drivers, etc., who are able to help her make this fiction work,” DeFoster said. “Even in the spaces where we are propping up this vision of idealized traditional femininity, there is still male wealth behind the scenes making that possible.”
Because, as the opinions desk likes to joke, it always comes back to tradwives.
However, Scroggins believes liberal women can be equally susceptible to conservative ideas of what relationships should look like.
“Tradwives aside, even with people who ascribe to that, like ‘I’m gonna work, and I’m gonna have my job and my relationship, too,’ it’s still, ‘But I also want the man to pay for everything,’” Scroggins said. “Because that’s sort of the conservative notion of what a relationship is.”
Though most women today pursue their own careers and aspire for independence, our culture is still working through deconstructing patriarchal, and often capitalist, views on love. There’s a reason the majority of women still take their husbands’ last names when they get married.
But even without American-specific cultural norms, for the vast majority of people, money is a real, tangible thing that precludes almost every decision we make.
And it goes without saying that the state of the economy isn’t doing us any favors in that regard.
“I keep seeing advertisements for the new movie with Halle Bailey, ‘You, Me & Tuscany,’ and it’s like, no one can afford a Tuscany vacation right now,” Scroggins said.
In a world that seems eternally headed toward economic recession, where the job and the housing markets are total disasters and the prospect of paying off student loans feels more like a pipe dream every day, the thought of having a Regé-Jean Page whisk me away to Tuscany is definitely appealing.
Honestly, I’d be happy with a pair of earrings and a nice dinner.
“Feeling provided for, feeling safe, comes from money, and then that money is associated with a partner,” Scroggins said.
When you start to notice this conflation between a desire for love and our thirst for money, you’ll see it everywhere. Influencers on social media use the language of economics to explain dating culture, comparing finding a partner to curating an investment portfolio. One creator went viral for her matchmaking service, often relying on financial and career success to match singles looking for marriage.
I can’t be the only one who finds this depressing.
There’s something deeply cynical about looking at romance like a numbers game rather than a pursuit of genuine happiness, where the idea of choosing the poor man you love over the rich man you tolerate is considered foolish.
“There’s something that we lose when we say that that’s the vision of what success looks like,” DeFoster said. “Because sometimes success is marrying the struggling, working actor for love.”
When I imagine my future partner, I don’t want to see them as a vehicle for social mobility. I want to focus on finding fulfillment and joy through another person, regardless of the material value they bring.
So if that means this Valentine’s I get Trader Joe’s flowers and a heartfelt card over a trip to Italy, I’ll have to be OK with sitting at home rewatching “How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days,” dreaming of a stable career in print media — as if.
