How to Make a Romance Movie Adaptation—as Shown by ‘The Idea of You’

It’s been a long, loveless era since we departed the golden age of rom-coms, sometime around 2006, and a dry-eyed decade since the Nicholas Sparks age of romance novel adaptations. But somewhere in Silver Lake, California (as played by Atlanta, Georgia), a new dawn is rising—and it stars Anne Hathaway as a fine art gallerist, just as the ancient gods predicted.

Maybe, just maybe, we as a society have finally explored all the facets of complex men in film and are ready for a change. We’ve covered every superpower and the spider-people who bear the responsibility of them. All of the banks have been robbed, and the enduring true stories have been told. The spies have deployed all their gadgets; the scientists have become death, destroyer of worlds; and the Fast and the Furious guys … well, they went to space. The Hollywood plot highways have been paved for a romance revival, and there are hundreds of stories just waiting to be adapted for the screen. So batten down the hatches of your heart, add that Costco pack of Chapstick to your buggy, and buy a little stock in Kleenex—because it’s yearning season, baby.

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Between the unexpected success of Anyone but You (the not-very-good rom-com that starred Glen Powell and Sydney Sweeney), the critical and audience reception for The Idea of You (the quite good rom-com with Hathaway), and the juggernaut success of TV adaptations like Bridgerton and The Summer I Turned Pretty, it seems that society is, once again, ready to be romanced. And while movies like Challengers and Past Lives are also contributors to our Era of Yearning, recently, audience’s hearts seem open to romantic plots that are far less … demanding.

Take The Idea of You, for example: a movie based on the 2017 novel by Robinne Lee, which is based loosely on the concept that pop star Harry Styles pretty exclusively dates older women, even when he was just a wee lad in the wee lad band One Direction. As a film, its conflict is emotionally taut, the chemistry of its leads (Hathaway and Nicholas Galitzine) is sharp and immediate, its dialogue is smart and steamy—but it subscribes to all of the standard plot devices of a romance story. Which isn’t a criticism! It’s just that, well, if I had a nickel for every successful movie from the past five years that was based on Harry Styles fan fiction, I wouldn’t be rich, but I could trade in all my shiny nickels for a sexy, sexy quarter. (Which is to say nothing of the millions I’ll eventually make from my fan fiction about Harry Styles supposedly spitting on Chris Pine.)

Lee has clarified in recent years that The Idea of You wasn’t so much Harry Styles fan fiction as … a work of fiction inspired by the mere existence of someone like Harry Styles. But it feels a lot like fan fiction. Most especially because it employs one of fan fiction’s most popular plot devices: the aptly named “celebrity/normal person” trope. Now, tropes can sometimes get a bad rap on-screen: At this point, everyone surely knows not to split up when there’s a killer on the loose, and the schlubby husband/gorgeous nag wife ideally died with The King of Queens. But in romance, tropes allow us to just fully lean into the entertainment of watching two people with chemistry fall in love. It’s as simple as an action movie. Those audiences want to see explosions. We want to see two people almost kiss, only to be interrupted by a knock at the door, then quickly come to their senses about why this love can never be—and end up kissing later anyway.

Audiences never grew tired of love; the formula just went on hiatus. Classic romance tropes go back as far as Shakespeare—one of our very best writers of enemies to lovers, as it were. And when it comes to portraying love on the page and on the screen, there is a tried-and-true method for crafting a romance plot, as exemplified by The Idea of You (and Much Ado About Nothing, and How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, and Red White and Royal Blue, and … you get it). What separates a replicable romance plot from, say, an easily replicable original holiday movie plot is, of course production value, access to talent, and demand. The latter not just from audiences, but from stars. Look no further than the hordes of serious, esteemed actors who are absolutely begging to have a little fun, do a little dance montage, and work with an intimacy coordinator: Paul Mescal, Daniel Radcliffe, Dave Bautista, Dev Patel, and Dev Patel’s ’90s-Hugh-Grant hair. Give these leading men the romantic plots they’re asking for! Revive the Bridget Jones franchise and cast all of them at once! Put Paul Mescal and Ayo Edebiri in Beach Read, you cowards!

Audiences want romance. Stars want romance. We have a formula for romance that works when given the benefit of strong direction, witty writing, charming leads, a slightly unexpected soundtrack (Maggie Rogers, what are you doing here?!), and on occasion, a lithe and spirited British muse. So, here at The Ringer, we’ve created a 21-question cheat sheet—as applied to The Idea of You—to guide all future romance adaptations through a perfectly orchestrated plot and get the smart and sexy love stories to the people. And most especially, Dev Patel.

What’s the title?

The Idea of You, streaming on Amazon Prime now.

What’s the romance trope?

Primary: Celebrity/normal person

Secondary: Age gap

Does the heroine have a name that tells you everything you need to know about her?

If you can believe it, the normal person in this trope is named Solène Marchand. And yes, that does tell you everything you need to know about her: She’s generationally French (grandparents) and chic as hell, and every time Hathaway introduces her character by name, she bats her eyes just so, as if to say, “Yes, I know it’s an unusual name, but I’ve earned it. I really am wonderful.”

What about the other names? Are they normal?

I don’t mean to discredit our male love interest, Hayes Campbell, who really has a hell of a name as well—but Hayes specifically says that when people refer to him by his first and last name, it “doesn’t tell the whole story.” And I do kind of agree because, is it just me, or does Hayes Campbell sound … distinctly American? Like it could be the name of one of the Montana Boyz? (Sorry about mentioning the Montana Boyz.) And it’s actually very important that Hayes is British …

How romantic and unattainable are the leads’ careers?

Because Hayes is the British member of the internationally famous boy band August Moon—a wildly unattainable and pretty romantic job for a 24-year-old! Unless of course you’re Solène Marchand, who just turned 40 and whose teenage daughter is a former fan of August Moon … in which case Hayes’s career is kind of a nuisance. (Naturally, Solène is the owner of a fine art gallery, which is the female romance equivalent of being an architect.)

Does the heroine maintain an inhuman glow, even when the story is not necessarily vampire or fairy related?

You’ve never seen anyone look like Hathaway looks in this movie. Galitzine has played a literal prince in several films (actually, fewer films than Anne has played a princess in, now that I think about it), but you will not be able to take your eyes off Hathaway, whose skin is glowing like she’s the perfect two days out from a hydrafacial at any given moment. She is a walking beauty filter; she is lit from the inside out. I want to look at Hathaway in this movie so badly that I actually can’t rule out there was a secret vampire subplot I didn’t pick up on.

Do the leads have a quirky habit—physical or emotional—that must have been mentioned specifically in the screenplay or source material?

In a word: bangs. Not to belabor the point, but you have never seen anyone in real life look like Hathaway looks in this movie. Most specifically because of her hair, which is long and luscious and accented by a set of bangs that would make Jessica Day weep with jealousy. Solène is never not delicately whisking that perfect hair off her delicate shoulders.

Hayes has a lot of quirky habits, like dating older women and choosing Mr. Pibb from a refrigerator full of sodas. But my favorite is when Solène has to take a phone call in her house and he immediately starts loudly playing the piano, stopping only once she’s off the phone. He is, after all, a guy in his 20s.

What’s the meet-cute, and how central is clumsiness to said meet-cute?

Solène and Hayes honest-to-god meet at Coachella. Specifically, Solène’s ex-husband has gotten their daughter VIP passes to a meet and greet with August Moon that he then bails on, forcing Solène to take her instead (props to Reid Scott for just fully leaning into being typecast as a handsome asshole—no one does it better). In the VIP tent, another mom tells Solène that the bathrooms are just to the right of the exit. So Solène exits the tent and … barrels dead ahead into the first trailer she sees. Which happens to be the trailer of Hayes Campbell, who’s immediately enamored of the set of bangs he sees before him. It’s not clumsiness per se, but this woman is not on top of her lefts and rights. And once they exchange the ole “Hi?” “Hi …” post-urination, it’s all over. Hayes dedicates a song onstage to the “special someone” he met earlier, he shows up at Solène’s art gallery the next day, and Solène says what is accidentally sexiest thing one person can say to another person: “Let’s go to my house; I’m gonna make you a sandwich.”

Is there any com in the rom?

There’s a little com, but this is more of a straightforward romance than a rom-com. The immediate cut from Hayes and Solène’s first sensual lovemaking sesh to Hayes ordering room-service chicken fingers like an overserved frat boy in the Jack in the Box drive-through did get me. And the interactions between Solène and the woman her husband had an affair with and then married are pretty funny! (Maybe I’m built different, but if a woman just confided to me that she was leaving my ex-husband and asked me to get Thai food and talk shit, I would not be able to turn down that offer.)

Is there an almost kiss?

This movie goes very light on the almost kissing, and then excellently heavy on the finally kissing. Post-sandwich, Solène has finally started to give in to the obvious fact that 24-year-old Hayes is hitting on 40-year-old her nonstop. He’s never more obsessed with her than right after she vulnerably tells him about her ex-husband having an affair behind her back. Then, just as things are about to get interesting—her house phone rings. And Hayes doesn’t even ask what that strange ringing contraption is; he just waits for the next available moment and pounces.

How spunky and occasionally wise are the leads’ best friends?

Solène’s best friend, Tracy (Annie Mumolo), gets very limited time in this movie, but she says one of the most spot-on things about friendship I’ve ever heard. After Solène asks why it was gross that her ex-husband got together with a younger woman, but it’s not gross when she does it, Tracy says, “Because I hate him, and I love you.”

(Hayes has no friends, only bandmates—he is very lonely.)

Does one of the leads have a talent that will eventually have to be borne out on-screen (writer, singer, wedding planner)?

This is a biggie. Hayes is in a boy band, so at some point, that boy band will have to perform. And we’ll have to listen to it. And y’know what? It’s fine. August Moon’s songs even advance the plot at times! The singing and dancing also happen quickly. Fifteen minutes into the movie, we’re at Coachella listening to Hayes sing about how he wants to get “closer to you,” looking dead into Solène’s eyes and surely stirring up some rough memories for former One Direction fans who were pretty sure Harry or Niall or Louis would look out and discover the most beautiful girl they’d ever seen in Section G, Row 43 because she’d worn the perfect lip gloss. (Solène is obviously wearing the perfect lip gloss.)

Are there any special Easter eggs from the book or fan fiction included in the movie?

We can say this young man isn’t Harry Styles all we want—but we can’t unsee that bird tattoo on his arm, now, can we?

Is there fuckin’?

Oh, yeah—there’s fuckin’. Once Solène gets over being old enough to be Hayes’s mother (“Yeah, but you’re not”—nice!), she flies to meet him after his show in New York City, and once in his hotel room, she drops her trench coat to reveal …

A semi-sheer cream set that covers her from mid-neck to mid-calf. Never change, Solène! (Hayes nearly swallows his tongue upon seeing her semi-sheer mock turtleneck. Never stop simping, Hayes!)

Is there an unexpected bout of dancing, karaoke, or athleticism that reveals new levels of one or both of the lead characters?

Immediately following the sex, Hayes starts dancing and lip-synching to “Dance Hall Days” by Wang Chung, which Solène is immediately charmed by, and she soon joins him in singing and dancing for the full duration of the song. Because romance movies are the one place you can dance around the room in the refrigerator light for more than 10 seconds before you’re like, “Oh shit, the refrigerator door is open, what are we doing?” Solène and Hayes—they have fun!

What are we montaging?

We’re montaging concerts! Private planes! EUROPE! Hotel sex! Beaches! A truly showstopping blue bikini! And we’re doing it all to the tune of an August Moon original song that includes the line “You’re such a maaaasterpiiiiece.”

Is there a small but emotionally revealing moment that tells you everything about why the leads are the way they are?

Um, yeah. The movie avoids the outdated “not like other girls” trope (Solène is, after all, a woman, and her main thing is that her ex-husband is a dick who ruined her ability to trust, so … pretty standard stuff), instead choosing to hit up the far less common “not like other boy band members” well. Hayes is always strumming the guitar or noodling on the piano, even though the record label said he didn’t need to play any instruments; Hayes nearly went the musical theater route instead of the boy band route, but just missed out on the role of Tiny Tim; Hayes is worried he’s a joke. It’s very sweet when Solène assures him that he’s not a joke, and they both really seem to believe it …

So then it’s really tough when she admits that she is, in fact, ashamed to be dating him because she can’t get over her insecurity about their age difference!

Is there a seemingly insurmountable emotional roadblock that appears two-thirds of the way through the movie?

Can you really blame Solène for blowing things up when she’s made to feel like a joke herself? After Solène gives in and accepts Hayes’s invitation to go on the European leg of his tour, ahem, undercover as his art consultant (“Hey, everybody, this is Solène—she’s my art consultant!”), she eventually finds herself in communion with all of the other plus-ones tagging along on the tour. And they tell her that the band always pretends to change the set list to sing “Closer” when one of them has met someone they want to impress: “It’s a bit.” Which triggers some compulsive part of my early-aughts brain, causing me to say aloud, “Am I a [bit]? Am I a FUCKING [BIT]?!” And unlocks a compulsive portion of Solène’s psyche, triggering her into flight mode because she feels like a man is once again lying to her and everyone knows except for her. With ice in her veins, she tells Hayes she doesn’t return his big feelings: “I just got swept up in the idea of you.”

Do they say the name of the movie in the text of the movie?

Yes!!! See above!!!

Does the couple overcome their emotional obstacles?

If you can believe it, yes. After Solène breaks it off with Hayes, photos of them are published and the (former) relationship goes viral. Solène’s daughter, who’s been away at camp, is upset with her mom for not telling her what she’d been up to, but she also asks the questions that every teen eventually has to ask their unearthly, gorgeous mother, like: “Mom … why would you break up with a talented, kind feminist?”

See, her daughter is totally fine with it …

Is there a secondary, more tangible roadblock that appears in the last 20 minutes of the movie?

Until she isn’t. Solène’s daughter goes from being fine with her mom basically moving an international superstar into their perfect Craftsman home to being completely overwhelmed by the whole world speculating about their private lives. To be fair, people at school are asking her about her mom’s boyfriend’s dick. Between that and the constant berating of the internet—the true villain of the movie, sorry rude ex-husband, you’re simply no match for Perez Hilton and unhinged YouTube comments—Solène has to end things with Hayes for the sake of her daughter’s well-being.

Is there a “Cupid’s gun”—a totem or plot device seeded early in the movie that ultimately shows back up to bring this otherwise doomed couple back together once and for all?

You know what, this is the one thing The Idea of You kind of whiffs on. The first time Solène rejects Hayes (post-sandwiches, pre-sex), he leaves his watch at her house so that she’ll have to return it to him. Classic move, Hayes. But she doesn’t just return it …

She arrives at his hotel wearing it with her sexy, sexy outfit—classic move, Solène! Later, when Solène rejects Hayes again (post-sex, pre-daughter-approved-dating), she leaves the watch behind but eventually gets it back after she confesses that she really does have feelings for him. Then when she breaks up with him again (OMG Solène, he’s just a boy!), she hands it back to him again. And would you believe me if I told you that when these two (spoilers) do finally reconnect, they don’t show him giving this fucking watch back to her?

OK, but do these two crazy kids ever work it out?

Solène would prefer it if you could acknowledge that they are both adults. But yes. Even though it doesn’t include the watch, The Idea of You does deploy an unprecedented third romance trope in the final moments of the film: the I WILL WAIT FOR YOU trope.

When Solène breaks up with Hayes the final time, he says that maybe in five years, when her daughter is through college, they could try this again. But Solène can’t ask him to do that. She says that if he finds a chance at happiness, he has to go for it, and she will, too. But following the “FIVE YEARS LATER” title card, Solène watches Hayes tell Graham Norton that he’s taking a break from touring to head to L.A. He has someone to see. And wouldn’t you know it, the next morning, he strolls into a little art gallery in Silver Lake and locks sparkly eyes with Solène, who somehow—I kid you not—looks more gorgeous than ever before in a magenta suit and bangless blowout. Never leave my screen again, Anne Hathaway. But do give me back my watch.