Romantic comedies are tired. Every trope has been done before. Bad boy is revealed to have a heart of gold after the tireless attempts by the girl-next-door? Done. Mismatched couple bickers, faces multiple attempts by jealous others to break them up, or surmounts obstacle after obstacle before culminating in a joyous wedding or cliche airport scene while the credits roll to “You Make My Dreams Come True” by Daryl Hall & John Oates? Done.
But beloved Netflix original Love isn’t a typical romantic comedy, and this is apparent halfway through season 3.
The show has always done a good job depicting relationships in a real, authentic way, from the discussion of morning breath to the little traits about your partner that grate your nerves. (Seriously, how do people in romantic movies and shows NOT mention morning breath or ever go to the bathroom or engage in any other bodily functions for that matter?) Likewise, season three has been accurate in depicting a relationship in its honeymoon phase.
The season kicks off with a forced double-date mini-vacation to Palm Springs with Bertie (Claudia O’Doherty) and her fumbling teddy-bear boyfriend Randy (Mike Mitchell) on episode one (“Palm Springs”). Despite his kind nature, Randy’s incompetence and utter laziness are infuriating, and you can’t help but feel sympathy for Bertie in the familiar way you want to talk some sense into girls dating some goof who they’re way too good for. After the previous two seasons of baggage, miscommunication and utter messiness, the roles are finally reversed, with Gus (Paul Rust) and Mickey (Gillian Jacobs) the happy, stable foil to their dysfunctional friends.
As their friend Syd (Kerri Kenney) points out in episode two (“Winners and Losers”), Mickey and Gus are at the best point of their relationship - six months in, an idea that can’t help but make me tinge with worry, despite my own disagreement with the statement. Is it really all downhill after six months? The statement sure seems ominous in the context of the show, with Mickey and Gus having already battled through iffy territory to get to where they are now, from crazy exes to annoying personality quirks to alcoholism and other serious addiction issues.
By the first three or four episodes, season three hasn’t ventured into any treacherous territory. The first few installments in the show’s 12-episode season are more digestible than the past two seasons, unless you’re in a cynical state about relationships and can’t stomach the mushy love between Mickey and Gus, with dreamy smiles and declarations that they miss each other when they’re sleeping.
Still, I couldn’t help but wonder when something is going to go wrong, and by episode four (“I’m Sick”), it started to. Mickey falls ill, and Gus feels obligated to ditch a fun day with his friends to go take care of her even though you (and Mickey) can tell he really doesn’t want to. I couldn’t help but root for Gus to just stay with his friends. Mickey’s a grown woman and she can fend for herself. Besides, she’s independent and tough. Why would she need to someone to come take care of her because she’s puking from a bad crab cake?
Perhaps it’s the relationship’s fragility that makes Gus feel obligated. He proves to be of little help to Mickey, chastising her for not realizing that she came down with something more contagious than food poisoning. Gus’ condescension, his irritating trait that made appearances in past seasons, comes back here in this frustrating wave.
Mickey’s past also comes back to haunt her in episode six (“Directing”), when an estranged friend bans Mickey and her “drama” from her newly cultivated life of domestic bliss. Again, we get hints that Mickey and Gus may not be out of the woods just yet.
But this authenticity is what makes the show unique. An episode I found particularly resonating was the previously mentioned episode two (“Winners and Losers”). Mickey is riding a high of career success and personal victories, while Gus gets dealt blow after blow. This day is just a snippet of their lives, using contrast to show the very real experience in a relationship where one party is the bird and the other is the statue. Everyone can relate to the experience of having to muster up a smile to emphatically say “Wow I’m SO happy for you!” just as you were able to unload about your shitty day. Mickey blasts music and grooves in her warmly lit room, which is shown between shots of Gus in his dark, dingey car before careening into a road-rage-fueled accident. (Don’t worry, it’s not serious - this is a comedy after all.)
Together, Mickey and Gus navigate the ups and downs of commitment, reaping both the benefits and weathering the storms that come through going through life with a partner in crime.
A standout of this season so far is episode four, “Bertie’s Birthday.” We learn more about her past and finally get hope that she’ll ditch Randy for someone better. The episode humanizes a character who has otherwise acted as a prim and proper foil to Mickey’s madness. We learn that she craves adventure and is aware that she often settles for comfortable situations (re: her relationship with Randy). Viewers are reminded of this sentiment in episode six (“Directing”), when a self-pitying Mickey asks Bertie why she’s even friends with her. Bertie states that even though being a friend of Mickey’s involves drama and some screaming at times, it’s never boring. Viewers get a sense of the mutually beneficial friendship between Mickey and Bertie, and an acceptance that sometimes life (and love) is messy, and that’s okay.
Photo via The Odyssey Online.
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