diabola in musica

When I first saw the trailer, I knew that I would love the movie. Romantic fluff and Regina Spektor and clever artsy framework and The Smiths. What’s not to love? And it’s true: When I first saw (500) Days of Summer, I loved it. I loved the dialogue, the idealist romantic ending. But when I walked out of the theatre, something nagged at me. The cute fantastic fluff isn’t really love. It’s an ideal, not reality.

Feminists pointed at the misogyny in the movie. Summer is the Manic Pixie Dream Girl. She exists only for the development of Tom. She is an uppity better-than-everyone superskank because she doesn’t return his affections. But let’s talk about Tom and how we see the entire relationship through his eyes. Let’s talk about how he forces her into his preconceptions of love. Let’s talk about how he never sees her as a person, how he simply sees her as a girlfriend, a vehicle through which he could express his love for love.

The most telling line of the move is this: “I love how Summer makes me feel.” In the end, it is all about him and his feelings. Grow up, Tom. Grow up, boys. Grow up, you idealists. None of us are your dream partners. We are people who know when you don’t treat us as people.