In essence, what endears romantic comedies to their most ardent supporters also is what bothers a lot of critics. Rom-coms, on the whole, are formulaic fantasies about everyday people who behave unrealistically in exceptional (and exceptionally well-lit) situations. The films usually adhere to a simplistic three-act structure that hinges on the viewer’s emotional catharsis. The lovebirds meet and get to know each other in a montage scored to an upbeat pop song; clash, separate, and miss each other in a montage scored to a melancholy pop song; and ultimately reunite, with a coda scored to a cathartic pop song.
Like Harry and Sally, Edward and Vivian, Joe and Kathleen, and other exalted rom-com pairs, Fred and Charlotte represent a case of supposed opposites attracting. Fred, who writes for a local rag that evokes a mash-up of Vice and the Village Voice, is brash, unkempt, judgmental, and uncompromising. Charlotte, in her ambitious quest to actually save the world while climbing a slippery political ladder, is tactful, chic, open-minded, and persuadable. These two are idealistic humanitarians at heart; they bonded in adolescence over how deeply they cared about issues that most Americans ignored, like recycling and global warming. When they bump into each other as adults at a Manhattan charity event, one can almost see their kindred sparks. Obviously, it is unlikely that a guy who looks and acts like Rogen’s character would enchant Theron’s—and even more unlikely that she would hire him to punch up her speeches after watching him pillory a media mogul and then nosedive down a staircase. But common sense matters little in the pursuit of feel-good, against-all-odds, shoot-for-the-stars romance.
But here’s the thing: rom-coms, probably more than films of any other genre, are supposed to be vehicles for escapism. Rom-com fans rely on them for this, too, especially when the current climate—both the political and literal—is inflamed. Ergo, Long Shot accomplishes what any decent romantic comedy sets out to do: induce some laughs, awwws, and sighs of relief at a tidy, happy ending. v
Directed by Jonathan Levine. R. 125 min. In wide release.
