WORDS Sarah Lennon Galavan
The Atlantic’s film critic Christopher Orr has an interesting theory about the continuing decline of the romantic comedy. He proposes that the increasing liberalisation of societal attitudes towards such classic rom-com obstacles as class and pre-marital sex coupled with the perpetual interconnectedness brought about by the internet have ultimately killed a genre that relies heavily on prejudice and miscommunication. In an attempt to recapture the magic of the Nora Ephron era, filmmakers have responded in two ways— by satirising the tired cliches of the genre (see Amy Poehler and Paul Rudd’s upcoming parody rom-com, They Came Together) or by anchoring their film to whatever zeitgeisty sex trend currently scandalizing the broadsheets ( as in the practically interchangeable casual sex farces Friends with Benefits and No Strings Attached or the 2013 Justin Long vehicle A Case of You, which was about, of all things, Facebook stalking) That Awkward Moment is, unfortunately, a particularly egregious example of the latter. Zac Efron’s cocky voice-over defines “that awkward moment” as the point in a new relationship where lines are drawn—hook-up or dating, seeing each other or boyfriend/girlfriend. As premises go, it’s not a terrible place to start. The intricacies of modern courtship are ripe for exploration and the success of Girls has proven that there is an eager audience for it. While Lena Dunham may be a divisive figure, writer/director Tom Gormican’s utterly tone-deaf film will have detractors wishing its only fault was a smack of white upper middle class privilege.
Touted as highlighting a uniquely male perspective on relationships, the narrative centres around three young professionals living it up in an achingly hip version of New York. Jason (Zac Efron) is the arch-bro, a self-assured book cover art designer with a “roster” of beautiful women dying to sleep with him. Daniel (Miles Teller), the beta to Jason’s alpha, is less handsome but possesses enough off-color charm to rival his friend in conquests. Sidelined for most the film, Mikey (Michael B. Jordan,) is the responsible one, a doctor blindsided by his wife’s request for a divorce. Motivated by absurd rom-com logic, the trio decide to make a pact to stay unattached. No points for guessing what happens next.
Modern romantic comedies, especially those seen from a male point of view, often boast a love interest commonly known as the Manic Pixie Dream Girl. Beautiful and endearingly kooky, she is more plot device than person, inspiring the sensitive young protagonist to take charge of his life. The women in That Awkward Moment are even more retrograde in their characterization. The romantic interests of Jason and Daniel are superficially differentiated. Ellie (Imogen Poots) is a backpack touting book lover while Chelsea (Mackenzie Davis) is Daniel’s tomboyish wingwoman. Window dressing aside, they are both examples of the “Cool Girl”, defined by Gone Girl writer Gillian Flynn as “the girl who likes every fucking thing he likes and doesn’t ever complain”. This is a film where attractive, smart and funny women are humiliated, let down and lied to but still expected to go weak at the knees when their significant other makes a big romantic gesture. After their first sexual encounter, Jason gets the idea that Ellie is a prostitute because (wait for it…) she has “hooker boots”, cash and lots of condoms in her bathroom. But hey, it’s ok because he said sorry by drawing her a charming illustration! Chelsea is similarly forgiving of Daniel’s faults. As for Mikey’s relationship with his ex-wife Vera (Jessica Lucas), both characters are so underwritten that their arc basically boils down to saintly wronged man gets over heartless bitch.
The chemistry between the three leads is the saving grace of That Awkward Moment, which, along with stylish costume and production design, distract from the troubling sexual politics. Efron is suitably slimy. Teller is mildly amusing. Jordan, lauded as one of the best actors under 30 after a powerful turn in Sundance darling Fruitvale Station, is given so little to do that it is easy to forgot his character exists. While scenes of bro-mantic bonding and raunchy slapstick may elicit a few cheap laughs, there is always a sense that these guys are, for lack of a better word, douchebags. Successful male rom-com, like the films of Judd Apatow, are underdog tales. In this case, it’s as if Gormican expects the audience to take the side of the pretentious and over-confident rival suitor of the traditional romantic comedy. And there’s a reason why that guy ends up alone.
