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8 hours ago
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In May 2003, a romcom starring Renée Zellweger and Ewan McGregor seemed like a surefire recipe for success. Zellweger had just earned consecutive best actress Oscar nominations for Bridget Jones’ Diary and Chicago, and McGregor had leading roles in zeitgeist-defining hits including Moulin Rouge and Star Wars. But on release, Down with Love barely made a dent at the box office, and audiences and critics alike were baffled by its camp sensibility and embrace of artifice.
In the film, Zellweger plays writer Barbara Novak, who arrives in New York City in 1962 to publish her feminist manifesto, Down with Love. Novak’s book encourages women to reject romance, embrace sex and refute the rigid gender roles of 50s America, and with the help of her publisher, Vikki (Sarah Paulson), Down with Love becomes a worldwide phenomenon – much to the chagrin of “man’s-man-ladies’-man-man about town” Catcher Block (Ewan McGregor).
Block, the star journalist at the Esquire-esque Know Magazine, suspects Novak to be a fraud and quickly plans to write a damning exposé on the author to prove that all women, despite what they say, want love. Posing undercover as the airheaded astronaut Zip Martin, Block seduces the now world-famous Novak; what follows is a delightfully deranged game of cat and mouse where, naturally, our leading nemeses fall for each other.
The plot of Down with Love is mostly nonsensical, hinging entirely upon a third-act twist delivered by Zellweger in a breathless “oner”, followed by a truly astounding wig reveal. Yet the zany, double entendre-laden screenplay is cheekily subversive, forgoing the traditional endings of the films that inspired Down with Love so that Barbara can get the guy without sacrificing her feminist values.
The movie also has a deliciously queer thread, with openly gay actors Sarah Paulson and David Hyde Pierce playing the respective lead’s best friends. Despite the pair’s eventual romance of convenience, the film is incredibly sympathetic to the plight of queer people hiding in plain sight, trying to survive the heteronormativity of the 60s while hilariously satirising the rigidity of traditional gender and sexual performance.
Down with Love’s thematic fascination with performance is only enhanced by its synthetic, candied hues. Aping the moviemaking techniques of early Hollywood, the film uses rear projection, painted skylines and large studio sets to convey its dream-like vision of New York. The sets are laden with visual gags – from phallic telescopes to a suggestive split-screen phone call – and enhanced further by veteran designer Daniel Orlandi’s bewitching costumes. Only a few years before Mad Men would propel shift dresses and impeccable suiting into the collective imagination, Down with Love was recognising the enduring legacy of 60s attire.
In retrospect, it’s hardly surprising that mainstream audiences were less than interested in a note-perfect homage to the sex comedies of yesteryear, such as 1959’s Pillow Talk and 1961’s Lover Come Back. But as conversations about sexuality and gender grow increasingly polarised, Down with Love’s critique still remains relevant despite its 60s setting. The rise of the tradwife and redpilled men threaten to draw culture back to the subjugation of mid-century conservatism, romanticising a time when women had minimal autonomy. Down with Love, while still embracing the nostalgic fantasy, invites us to imagine a world where women and queer people can have it all – love, sex, equality – and look good doing it, too.
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Down with Love is available to stream on Disney+ in Australia and the UK and available to rent in the US. For more recommendations of what to stream in Australia, click here
