Lucia Thomas | Staff Illustrator

A couple of years ago, “La La Land” seemed to be one of, if not the, most beloved film among my peers (high school girls in a creative and performing arts program). When I finally watched it, I was confused — while I appreciated the use of color as a subtle storytelling tactic and thought the cast’s performances were great, the story fell flat for me. I didn’t really care for Sebastian and Mia’s relationship, mostly because I disliked Sebastian, and not just in the moments where you were clearly meant to resent him for being selfish or self-centered. Pretty much the whole time. He’s snobbish, often desperate for attention and praise, and exhibits the kind of slightly-annoying masculine behavior that’s generally brushed off when it comes from talented and eventually-famous guys.

Every character can’t be perfect and completely likable. It’s just that Mia never irked me the same way; she makes some decisions that compromise their relationship, but she doesn’t walk through Universal Studios telling Sebastian he “doesn’t have the context” and simply doesn’t understand her favorite movies, rubbing her temples like he ignorantly has no conception of real art.

Allow me to hop off of “La La Land” and onto “(500) Days of Summer,” a movie seven years older and led by a male character perhaps deserving of more moral reprehension. Before meeting his love interest, Summer, Tom’s coworker gossips with him, calling her a “bitch” and “superskank.” Tom agrees, deciding he doesn’t need her. For the rest of the movie, we watch him desperately cling onto whatever notion of romance he thinks he has with the woman he initially denounces, and we’re meant to root for him.

Movie relationships, especially those in movies we consider cultural classics, have an undeniable effect on how we build and perceive our own relationships. Accepting certain behavior on the screen can often translate to accepting that behavior in real life. I seem exceptionally and particularly bothered by these minorly-faulty men compared to their general audiences; yet I reassert that the way these movies frame problematic or just irritating male behavior as inevitable, even natural, is wrong. 

Watching these movies can actually help us reflect on our own relationships, the way we behave, and the way we expect others to behave. Sometimes seeing something irritating or insensitive on screen is an illuminating experience. If we consume content consciously, with an awareness of when it was made and who made it (men, in the case of “La La Land” and “(500) Days of Summer”). 

I don’t think we need to condemn every rom-com written by a man, either. “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind,” in my opinion, provides a precedent where the male and female lead are both jerks! It makes the dynamic and argument of the movie much more interesting, to me, anyway.

I also want us to be conscious of the characters we take in and how they reinforce social standards. While writing this, I read a Reddit post calling Mia from “La La Land” a “villain and self-saboteur” because she “stays the course with her pursuit of acting greatness and she ultimately chooses to veto the couple’s future by moving to Paris.” A villain because she prioritizes her career? The post frames Sebastian as a victim of Mia’s carelessness and emotional immaturity. You can imagine my disagreement, of course. 

I think we are more practiced in rejecting misogynistic interpretations of female characters than in rejecting misogynistic characters disguised as endearing, attractive love interests. Reforming real-life social dynamics so that people are equally criticized and appreciated, regardless of gender, can begin with how we watch a movie and what we take away from it.