How Heterosexuality Changes the World… in Film

Ever wonder why we’re dealing with an army of hopeless romantics? I might have part of the answer…

A blurb about my current situation: I recently came home after my car was ticketed in Boston ($80 in one day). After having a “cleaning” with my dentist, it turned out I had to have five cavities filled. So whatever, that happened…

And then, out of pain and exhaustion, I decided to watch a movie.

I have kind of a disgusting confession:

I really enjoy romantic comedies and coming-of-age stories. While I realize how toxic that kind of material can be, I still think that someday I’m going to find a film that just gets what it is to be young, stupid, and growing up.

I’m not saying that film doesn’t already exist, but what I am saying is we rarely see the films marketed as being coming-of-age (i.e. those we’d consider mainstream) trying to flip the script and or to defy expectation. They follow a common policy of what you see is what you get.

So when I flicked around on HBO in my underwear, covered in popcorn crumbs (and you wonder where the cavities come from), I really wasn’t expecting much of John Green’s Paper Towns.

Sure, I remembered a few years ago that awful interview with Cara Delevingne that initially piqued my interest but after reading so many critiques of the film for yet another glamorization of the manic pixie dream girl trope, I was largely disinterested. But, hey, it was late and I’ve been interested in Delevingne’s acting range after seeing that bizarre performance she gave in Suicide Squad.

This is too weird. Even for me.

Where to begin?

I guess what’s really weird about the film is its beginning: the usual story of boy finds love at first sight mixed in with the girl-next-door trope.

But then there’s a dead guy thrown in. Who killed himself.

No, I’m not joking. I’m certain this is how Green starts his book because it’s too strange for writers Neustadter and Weber (writers of other films like 500 Days of Summer and The Spectacular Now) to shoehorn into here.

And this is where things get a little weird: Margot (Delevingne) is shaken by the event and becomes a detective/adventurer who miraculously defies small-town captivity by ascending from normal person to mythological figure/small-town “goddess” (everyone seemingly worships her).

Q (Nat Wolff), on the other hand, is perfectly fine with the situation, making note that it wasn’t really a big deal. You know, the typical heterosexual boring beta male main character reaction. Here’s his quote on the situation:

The truth is… at the time, it didn’t feel like that big a deal to me. It’s not like I knew the guy. If I had a panic attack
every time someone I didn’t know died… I’d go insane.

What does that even mean? Also, not a big deal?

Hey asshole, did you ever see Stand By Me?

Corey Feldman was never the same.

What follows this intro is a film where, if you watched the trailer, you can guess the plot beats.

Q and Margot hang out → Margot disappears → Q follows clues → Goes on stupid road trip → Finds Margot

And then what?

As the film comes to a close Q realizes he doesn’t need Margot. In fact, he didn’t need her at all. All he needed was the idea of her to find himself.

He needed someone to make him so much less of a beta male that he could reach some sense of self-actualization.

Which is disgusting.

Paper Towns implies the sort of point Martin & Kazyak (2009) make in their analysis of heterosexuality in G-rated films: the male/female dichotomy is essential to changing one’s perspective. Shit, more than that, it’s meant to change the world through some magical quality that is unheard of in the relationships not being represented or those shifted to the sidelines.

Seriously, heterosexuality is placed on this pedestal implying that victory lies in finding “the one” and settling your boring personality into someone you might be able to fetishize, idealize, and worship for days, months, or years until the moment you trick them into thinking you’re a normal, respectable person. But you’re probably not in this scenario because, again, you’ve spent a lot of time thinking you weren’t anybody without somebody.

Let’s take a step back: You might remember from a sophomore English class that protagonists are defined as those who go through a story and wind up changed by the end. Well, what if I told you that most of the protagonists we’re left with in media (books are culprits too) are these losers who learn that fetishizing a person is alright so long has an immediate positive consequence?

I mean, that’s exactly what happens here. Q even admits,

You didn’t ruin my last few weeks of high school. In fact… I think they were the best weeks of my life. First party. First road trip. My first time cutting class. Everybody else is doing things for the last time… but I was doing them for the first. So… don’t apologize. Because… none of that would have happened without you.

and yet he learns nothing from it. Oh, and the kicker? Margot finds his whole worship shtick endearing and offers him a place by her side in the end. There was no situation in which Q was punished for his behavior.

Though I will say, there is a moment of acknowledgement between the two where Margot thinks like, “Woah, this guy is weird. He literally followed me up the countryside to tell me he ‘loves me’.” She even says something along the lines of, “You don’t know me.”

But then she drops the facade. Why? Because in media if you show someone that your creepy tendency to objectify someone for self-gain is pure as in non-sexual… it’s cute!

Okay, so why does this matter?

We are raised in a society where heterosexuality is assumed. This is called heteronormativity.

It sucks and it’s socially enforced. Worse than that — it’s pervasive.

Think about it this way: If we’re taught that to find yourself you have to find love and if that definition of love is coded largely as heterosexual… Are you putting the pieces together?

This is nestled in at multiple levels from G-Rated films to parental advice.

And then there’s the fetishistic aspect. Mix that in with heterosexuality and what you’re left with are some limited options in pursuing a relationship.

You have to ask yourself:

1. Am I straight? Because if I’m not, I already lack representation of my living situation.
2. Am I in love? If I deny the heterosexuality within love — the world-changing magic of finding the opposite sex… Well, what am I left with?

The answer is… there’s no answer. Because that’s not how life works.

It’s a little bit like this exchange I had in class a while back where we were talking about the communication of lies and writing some big idea questions.

I asked, “Is there such a thing as a universal truth?”

To which some dude at the back of the class scoffed.

But maybe there is a universal truth, dude at the back of the class.

And the universal truth is that there is no universal truth.

There is no universal model for love, compassion, and relationships.

But there are wrong ways to approach those subjects.

It’s tied into the idea of dominant/submissive relations or aggressive & active vs passive & quiet relations. Because, as the mainstream narrative dictates, in order for you to find yourself, you have to be negligent of the other person’s needs and wants.

THIS IS WHAT YOU’RE TAUGHT IS THE KEY TO SELF-ACTUALIZATION.

DON’T BELIEVE THAT SHIT.

Romance is a wonderful thing, don’t get me wrong. But it cannot change the world the same way you can for yourself. And it does not exist in a social vacuum wherein the key is simply to find yourself. The key is to find each other. Sometimes we learn that lesson after it’s too late.

And if you did? … Well, you should definitely apologize to the person you treated like ass. Like right now.

REFERENCE:

Martin, K., & A. Kazyak (2009). Hetero-Romantic Love and Heterosexiness in Children’s G-Rated Films. Gender and Society, 23, 315–336.