In this blog post, I’ll examine the genre characteristics and conventions of romantic comedies. Focusing on ‘Notting Hill’, ‘Singles’, ‘Don’t Trust Her’, and ‘My Sassy Girl’, I’ll discuss gender roles, the evolution of female characters, the limitations of existing films, and the potential for new romantic comedies.

Why Do We Watch Romantic Comedies?

Why do we watch romantic comedies? Why do audiences go out of their way to go to the theater time and time again to see an ending that’s almost always predictable? To answer this question, we first need to delve a little deeper into what a “genre” actually is before analyzing the romantic comedy genre itself.
A genre defines the scope of what audiences can expect from a film. It informs viewers of what to anticipate, and at times, it intentionally misleads them by setting expectations that cannot be met. Generally, the function of a genre is to help audiences understand a film more easily and feel a sense of familiarity with it. Even when a specific genre is parodied or criticized, such attempts are based on the audience’s existing recognition of and familiarity with that genre. Genre involves expectations regarding specific narrative developments and, as a result, influences how conflicts within a film are resolved. Genre conventions drive the film’s conclusion. Furthermore, these functions of genre depend on the audience’s experience and ability to understand the film.
So, among the various film genres, what exactly is a romantic comedy? Its origins can be traced back to the screwball comedies of Hollywood in the 1930s and 1940s. At the time, screwball comedies were considered progressive in the sense that they reflected reality. The genre primarily centered its narratives on three differences between men and women: the fundamental gender differences between men and women; the clash of values stemming from the different personalities of the male and female leads; and the class differences that were, in reality, contradictory.
In ‘The Structure of Hollywood Genres’, Thomas Schatz explains that in 1934, Hollywood released two romantic comedies that were hugely successful both critically and at the box office. These were ‘The 20th Century Express’ and ‘It Happened One Night’. At the time, Hollywood’s screwball comedies dominated the comedy film scene during the Great Depression by reimagining fast-paced romances set in high society.
On the other hand, since most Hollywood films contain some elements of romantic comedy, scholars such as Brian Henderson question whether romantic comedy can be classified as a distinct film genre. However, this perspective is somewhat overly strict, as no film can be 100% pure Western, mystery, or comedy. It is useful to understand genre as a system of expectations, conventions, themes, and forms that emerges among the film industry, individual works, and audiences. In this sense, the romantic comedy can be considered a distinct category clearly recognized by the film industry, related media, critics, and audiences alike.
So, what are the basic narrative structures and characteristics of romantic comedies? First, in traditional romantic comedies, the courtship between a man and a woman—no matter how arduous—ultimately leads to a union through marriage. While melodramas primarily focus on the desire for union, romantic comedies focus on the process of overcoming the obstacles that stand in the way of that union. Of course, some films cleverly subvert the audience’s expectations of a happy ending. However, even such attempts are ultimately based on the firm structural expectation that the two will end up together. Furthermore, while melodramas often focus on the desires and frustrations of the female protagonist, romantic comedies pay equal attention to both the woman and the man, centering on the courtship process.
Let’s return to the original question. Why do audiences keep returning to the romantic comedy genre, even as they anticipate its predictable ending? While the presence of famous stars is an important factor, the genre’s distinctive, familiar format plays an equally significant role. A typical romantic comedy emphasizes that the male and female leads are characters who can find harmony with one another, yet simultaneously keeps them apart. It also creates various obstacles to prevent them from recognizing their compatibility.
However, unlike the characters in the film, the audience is in a unique position to see through the situation. Even when events unfold in a way that appears completely opposite to the characters, the audience understands what is actually happening. This is why, despite having no direct connection to the characters, we can be confident that all problems will ultimately be resolved.
We often say that we identify with characters on screen or see ourselves reflected in them. The protagonists of these films provide the audience with a form of desire fulfillment. Our enthusiasm for them is likely an expression of our desire to realize, through them, the aspirations we wish to achieve but cannot easily fulfill in reality. Ultimately, aren’t these expectations, this identification, and this vicarious satisfaction the fundamental reasons why audiences seek out romantic comedies?
Traditionally, romantic comedies have served to reaffirm the value of heterosexual unions and marriage through ideologically sophisticated narrative strategies. However, the genre is constantly evolving. Story structures change, and the ideologies that unconsciously permeate films are bound to shift as well. In this regard, examining new trends in romantic comedies is meaningful not only for filmmakers but also for general audiences.
In an era of rising divorce rates and shifting perceptions of the traditional institution of marriage, there is a resistance to accepting heterosexual unions as a given goal. At the same time, however, the appeal of the sense of stability that traditional romance once provided still remains. Depending on the era, romantic comedies may reveal progressive tendencies or revert to conservative ones. And as we observe these changes, we realize moment by moment that we still remain within the long-standing tradition of the romantic comedy.
Due to the nature of the film medium, romantic comedies tend to be fantastical rather than realistic. However, such fantasy is meaningful in that it reflects reality back to us. From this perspective, examining the representative romantic comedies of the British production company Working Title would be a good starting point for understanding the evolution of the genre. Furthermore, analyzing the Korean film ‘Singles’ may reveal the potential for a new kind of romantic comedy that breaks away from existing conventions.

Did ‘Notting Hill’ truly present a new kind of relationship between men and women?

‘Notting Hill’, a globally successful masterpiece from Working Title, is often hailed as a landmark film. However, when viewed through a feminist lens, it seems the film achieved its box-office success not by attempting to break free from conservative, patriarchal social structures, but rather by following the conventions that romantic comedies have pursued since the 1950s.
In fact, in the early part of the film, the protagonists—who possess characteristics somewhat different from those in typical romantic comedies—drive the narrative. Drawing on Jung’s analytical psychology, Anna Scott is portrayed as a manifestation of the animus—the masculine aspect within a woman—while William Daker is depicted as a manifestation of the anima—the feminine aspect within a man. This characterization appears to be an attempt to differentiate the film from conventional romantic comedies.
As her romance with Dacker develops, Anna displays a proactive and assertive demeanor, expressing her feelings honestly and unreservedly. She reveals a personality quite distinct from the heroines of typical romantic comedies in the way she expresses her love—such as suddenly kissing Dacker or being the one to initiate phone calls. In contrast, while Dacker loves Anna, he is unable to confidently express his feelings. Instead, he comes across as passive and reserved, forming a stark contrast to Anna.
The relationship between these two protagonists feels as though it aligns with the progressive tendencies seen in Hollywood romantic comedies of the 1930s and 1940s. However, as the film progresses toward its conclusion, these expectations are completely shattered.
In the latter half of the film, the two characters—who had previously embodied the animus and anima—gradually revert to traditional gender roles. Ironically, it is precisely through this process that their love comes to fruition, and the film concludes with a happy ending. I had hoped that the two characters would maintain their individual personalities while overcoming the gender, personality, and class differences commonly portrayed in romantic comedies through their own form of reconciliation and union. However, as they watched the film’s second half, audiences who shared my expectations could not help but offer a bittersweet smile.
Furthermore, the social scrutiny and constraints that weigh heavily on Anna Scott in the film are downright chilling. Anna becomes the target of public opinion due to nude photos she took in the past and the resulting scandal. Treated as if she had committed an unforgivable sin—much like a victim of a witch hunt—she is forced to endure deep self-loathing. The psychological anguish and trials she faces are all closely tied to issues of sexuality. Through the reactions of the media and public opinion, the film highlights the fact that women are still inevitably placed in a socially vulnerable position when it comes to issues related to sexuality.
What I found most disappointing about this film was that, despite having the potential to sufficiently differentiate itself from conventional romantic comedies through its innovative character development in the early stages, it ultimately ended up simply replicating the conventions and tropes of traditional films by the second half.
In contrast, ‘Singles’ maintains the originality of the characters Nan-nan and Dong-mi until the very end, delivering its own kind of happy ending through a narrative that does not compromise or distort their personalities. As audiences become immersed in these two characters, they feel a sense of catharsis, as if they’ve cast off the yoke of the conservative conventions inherent in romantic comedies.
On the other hand, ‘Notting Hill’ brought back the sense of dismay I felt while watching ‘My Sassy Girl’. Both films initially feature characters who seem to subvert traditional gender roles. However, by the latter half of ‘My Sassy Girl’, it feels as though the film is making a flimsy excuse—as if saying, “I’m not really like that; I acted that way because of past heartbreak”—and pleading for the audience’s understanding. “Notting Hill” also feels as though it’s insisting, “The shortcut to a successful romance is regaining the traditional masculine and feminine ideals expected of men and women.”
From the audience’s perspective, it’s difficult to empathize with such an ending. That’s why I believe it’s highly meaningful to critically reexamine “Notting Hill”—a signature film from Working Title—from a feminist perspective.

Did “Singles” open up new possibilities for the Korean romantic comedy?

Korean cinema, having passed through the golden age of melodramas in the 1980s, experienced the maturation of the romantic comedy genre beginning in the 1990s. Starting with ‘My Love, My Bride’ (1990), Korean romantic comedies began to establish themselves as a distinct genre by actively adopting Hollywood’s narrative structures, genre conventions, and star system.
In ‘Marriage Story’ (1992), signs emerged that the romantic comedy was solidifying its position as an independent genre, even in terms of production practices and the film industry. Subsequently, from ‘Mr. Mama’ (1992) and ‘That Woman, That Man’ (1993) through ‘Killing My Wife’ (1994) and ‘Dr. Bong’ (1995), Korean romantic comedies continued to evolve by actively incorporating genre elements already established by Hollywood—such as characterization, dialogue, editing, mise-en-scène, and narrative structure.
If the 1990s were a period when romantic comedies were established as a genre by emulating Hollywood’s cinematic conventions, I believe the 2000s and beyond marked the beginning of the development of a uniquely Korean romantic comedy. This is because new creative endeavors emerged based on the genre conventions accumulated in the 1990s. In particular, a new trend began to take shape as films emerged that broke away from existing narrative structures and genre conventions to reflect the image of women in modern society and emphasize the female perspective.
Here, I will examine these changes by focusing on the characters in the film ‘Singles’ (2003), which demonstrated the new possibilities of Korean romantic comedies in the 2000s.
Contemporary Korean romantic comedies exhibit two characteristics that subvert the conventions of the genre. One is the active use of vulgar and explicit language, and the other is the ability to create a happy ending while rejecting the traditional conclusion of marriage.
In early romantic comedies, the story often progressed by having a conflict arise from a specific event or cause and gradually intensify. In contrast, ‘Singles’ unfolds its story through arguments between men and women, as well as the use of profanity and slang. The language in the film is not merely a means of conveying dialogue but a crucial element that shapes the characters’ images and reveals their personalities.
In particular, this type of romantic comedy, rather than showing everything explicitly, uses suggestive, risqué expressions to encourage the audience to infer the meaning for themselves. A prime example is the line from ‘Singles’: “Don’t just eat anything just because you’re in a hurry.” By unhesitatingly bringing sexual jokes—which used to be exchanged secretly in bedrooms or under the covers—out into the open in front of the audience, the film creates a sense of catharsis and the joy of wordplay. Audiences feel a sense of familiarity in these expressions, making it easier for them to empathize with or identify with the characters.
Many traditional romantic comedies present marriage as the ultimate resolution to the conflicts faced by the male and female leads. Although the leads meet by chance, rather than forming a smooth and harmonious relationship from the start, they constantly clash. The dialogue and actions that emerge as they bicker—almost like sworn enemies—create the unique humor characteristic of romantic comedies.
The reason for their conflict isn’t simply that they genuinely hate each other. Rather, it can be seen as a result of their fear that developing feelings for the other person will be perceived as a threat to their identity or a loss of freedom. Ultimately, however, the two overcome these fears and reach the conclusion of marriage.
The ending of ‘Singles’, however, is different. Su-heon proposes to Na-nan, offering to send her abroad to study and asking her to marry him so they can leave the country together. However, after much deliberation, Na-nan rejects the proposal and chooses the path of a career woman, dedicating herself to her work. Dong-mi, too, spends a night with her friend Jeong-jun, with whom she had been living, and becomes pregnant; yet, she resolves to raise the child on her own, without ever telling Jeong-jun about the pregnancy.
Since this is a romantic comedy, it moves toward a happy ending. However, that happy ending does not necessarily mean marriage between a man and a woman or a traditional union. Rather, through endings rarely seen in past romantic comedies, it leaves audiences feeling satisfied as they leave the theater.
Female characters always play a crucial role in romantic comedies. The lives of the women in these films—sometimes gentle, sometimes intense—make a lasting impression on the audience. Some of these characters are revered by men as the ideal woman, while female viewers may see them as models for self-actualization.
However, ‘Singles’ rejects these traditional female characters, particularly the idealized image of women desired by men. Instead, it honestly portrays women as they exist in the realities of the time.
There’s Nan-nan, who is dumped by the man she loves and, to make matters worse, gets demoted from the design department to the food service division at work; Dong-mi, who has been in a string of relationships with numerous men; and Jeong-jun, who meets a woman who seems to be seeing two men at once. These three characters come together and pursue love in their own unique ways, striving to either win back lost love or forge a new life.
The women in the film are ignored at work simply because they are women, and they face even harsher mistreatment from customers for the same reason. However, ‘Singles’ does not stop at merely showing this discrimination. Rather, it confronts these absurd situations with a satisfying, decisive blow.
They pull down the pants of a boss who steals their ideas and lusts after them, and they get even in kind with a pervert who keeps groping their buttocks. It’s as if the women are delivering a refreshing blow to a conservative, male-dominated society.
In this regard, “Singles” questions the roles of women and the meaning of marriage—aspects that traditional romantic comedies have taken for granted. It’s not to say that love isn’t important, but rather to convey the attitude that one doesn’t necessarily have to give up one’s own life for love. And it is precisely in this shift that I discover new possibilities for the Korean romantic comedy.

Could ‘Don’t Trust Her’ have completely overturned traditional gender roles?

‘Don’t Trust Her’ is a film that clearly highlights the differences between male and female roles through its own narrative devices. The film’s strength lies in presenting protagonists who break free from the fixed perspectives we’ve traditionally held—such as “men should be this way” and “women should be that way.”
Young-ju, who was imprisoned for fraud but granted parole thanks to her unique skill at lying, is a highly compelling character. If the film had simply used the “career woman” trope to portray an independent woman who confidently speaks her mind, it would have been just another predictable story we’ve seen countless times. However, the “con artist” premise serves as an essential element both for defining Young-ju’s character and for driving the film’s narrative forward.
The male lead, Hee-cheol, is also quite different from the typical male leads in romantic comedies. He is timid, unable to confidently assert even his own opinions, and rarely displays the traits generally considered “manly.” Perhaps these contrasting portrayals of men and women are actually closer to reality. The sight of Hee-cheol trembling with fear at the “Hot Pepper Bachelor” contest and Young-ju teasing him by saying, “It’s just your phone vibrating,” feels strikingly similar to how men and women behave in today’s world.
However, while this film presents male and female protagonists who differ from those in previous works, it still requires other characters to conform to a patriarchal family culture. Hee-cheol’s father, who is always strict and insists on having his way, and Hee-cheol’s younger sister, who is always on her best behavior no matter the situation, remain firmly entrenched within the traditional Korean patriarchal family structure.
Furthermore, by portraying the characters in the rural setting as simple-minded and talkative, the film reinforces a stereotypical image of the countryside as distinct from the city. It also feels as though their simplicity is cleverly reimagined as ignorance solely to elicit laughter.
What’s even more disappointing is that even the unique qualities Hee-cheol and Young-ju possessed disappear in the film’s final act. Hee-cheol, who at some point sheds his timidity to assert himself as a confident man, and Young-ju, who realizes the importance of family, sheds tears of repentance, and resolves to live a virtuous life—ultimately, the two head toward an ending similar to that of countless romantic comedy characters we’ve seen time and again.
So, what if we reimagined the film’s ending a little differently?
As the saying goes, “Even hatred is a form of affection.” Before he knows it, Hee-cheol begins to sense a unique charm in Young-ju and develops feelings for her. Hee-cheol continues his efforts to win Young-ju over, but to her, he’s nothing more than a nuisance. Meanwhile, with nowhere else to go, Young-ju finds Hee-cheol’s home to be a haven.
However, when she finds herself on the verge of having her true identity exposed by Hee-cheol’s police friend, Young-ju devises a new plan. She breaks down in tears in front of Hee-cheol, pouring out the story of her life and confessing her past. Hee-cheol is once again taken in by her innocent appearance and sad tears. And Young-ju flashes a triumphant smile.
After a brief, happy time together, Young-ju hatches another plan with her friends and prepares to leave. Hee-cheol pleads with her not to go, but Young-ju, now annoyed by him, uses the excuse that she can no longer deceive his parents to try to leave Yonggang.
When Hee-cheol continues to hold her back, Young-ju finally reveals her true identity to his family. All the while, she imagines herself walking out of the house with confidence, leaving her flustered family behind.
But the situation takes an unexpected turn. Hee-cheol’s family had already heard the whole story from him and had forgiven Young-ju, accepting her as part of the family.
I never expected my scam to run into a roadblock like this! And because of some country bumpkin, no less!
In the end, it’s Young-ju who crumbles under Hee-cheol’s unexpected actions. With an ending like this, wouldn’t it be possible to create a different kind of humor—one that sets it apart from conventional romantic comedies—while still maintaining Young-ju’s signature confidence and her “con artist” persona until the very end?

Why did “My Sassy Girl” have to change at the end?

The greatest strength of “My Sassy Girl” is undoubtedly its characters. After watching the movie, the story itself doesn’t really stick in your mind that strongly. What leaves the biggest impression is, of course, the charm of the character “Her.”
That’s not to say the narrative flow is weak, though. Her glimpses of vulnerability, revealed here and there from the beginning of the film, along with the voice-over narration from the observer, Gyeon-woo, make it easy to accept the somewhat predictable story structure as it shifts from comedy to melodrama.
Another strength of the film is the director’s wit, embodied in the “Eagle Five Brothers”—a reference that’s hard to catch on the first viewing. This is evident in how the story of the five twins in a newspaper article—which appears to have no particular significance when it first appears at the inn early in the film—is connected to Kim Il-woo’s portrayal of five different roles. The character set—ranging from the innkeeper, a staff member, a security guard, a blackmailer posing as a self-harm victim, to a station attendant—creates a different kind of humor distinct from the absurd laughter stemming from her eccentric behavior.
Above all, the film’s greatest strength lies in introducing a strong-willed female character who takes the lead over men at a time when the Confucian ideal of womanhood was considered the dominant standard. By presenting this character through the medium of comedy, the film allows the audience to accept her without much resistance.
However, the mere fact that the film portrays a new generation and a new female archetype does not solve all the problems. “My Sassy Girl” ultimately fails to break free from the traditional female archetype that relies on men.
In the early part of the film, the plot—such as the revelation that Gyun-woo grew up believing he was a girl until the age of seven—emphasizes the reversal of traditional gender roles. Furthermore, throughout the first half of the film, she is portrayed as the proactive character who takes the lead with Kyun-woo.
This aspect of her personality is clearly evident in her conversation with a deserter she meets at an amusement park on her birthday. When the deserter asks her, in a tone implying, “What made you trust a guy like this enough to come here?” she confidently replies:

“I came because I trust you.”

However, the moment Gyeonwoo appears at her blind date at the café, the dynamics between the characters shift dramatically. Gyeonwoo, who until then had seemed like a timid and thoughtless college student, suddenly transforms into a different person. He is portrayed as a character with exceptional insight, and the reason he had been putting up with her all along is explained not as a result of his own inadequacy, but as something he deliberately “endured” from a mature perspective in order to heal her pain.
At this very moment, her self-confidence is reduced to mere childishness!
The advice Gyun-woo gives her also reveals a conservatism that seems to urge her to return to traditional gender roles. Above all, the part I disliked the most was the scene where she, after sending Gyun-woo to the opposite peak, cries out that she is a woman who has no choice.
The charming woman who had captivated the audience with her confident and uninhibited demeanor up until that moment vanishes, leaving only a classical woman who leans on a man and waits for fate. Furthermore, the premise that her eccentricity was a choice made to forget the pain of her first love ultimately implies that her identity was defined by a man.
Ultimately, the character in this film is one built on a foundation of fragility, overlaid with eccentricity and confidence.
I believe this is precisely where the film’s strength and its limitation lie. The greatest catharsis that ‘My Sassy Girl’ offers the audience is her eccentricity and the self-assurance that stems from it. Yet, seeing her portrayal in the extended scenes is downright disappointing. I doubt I’m the only one who feels this way.
That said, the character’s core concept—eccentricity layered over vulnerability—should not be altered. This is because her inner vulnerability is a crucial element that softens the aversion audiences might feel toward her reckless behavior in the early stages.
The problem is this: by the latter half of the film, when the audience has naturally come to accept her eccentricity, how does she overcome that image of a vulnerable and dependent woman? In the film, as her wounds heal, her eccentricity gradually fades away. But does the fact that her wounds are healed necessarily mean her assertive personality must disappear as well?
Furthermore, the scene where Gyun-woo embraces her should not be changed either. After all, ‘My Sassy Girl’ is, first and foremost, a romantic comedy. In a film where her presence is already overwhelmingly strong, if Gyun-woo’s role were to be reduced even further, the balance between the male and female leads—the two pillars of a romantic comedy—would tilt excessively toward one side.
So, how can we preserve her inner vulnerability while maintaining her eccentricity and self-confidence until the very end? I imagined the following scene.
First, through her encounter with her first love, we reveal that her eccentricity isn’t a mask created to overcome the pain of that first love, but rather her true identity.
On the subway, as she’s bleeding from her nose, her first love hands her a handkerchief. With atmospheric background music playing, she says in a dazed voice:

“Sir, you didn’t just blow your nose, did you?”

In another scene, we see her and her first love enjoying a stroll against the backdrop of the sunset. Just as the romantic atmosphere reaches its peak, she suddenly shouts:

“Come and catch meee~”

If her eccentricity is revealed so naturally even in her relationship with her first love, it will show the audience that her self-assurance wasn’t merely a ploy to hide the pain of heartbreak.
The film’s ending could also be crafted a little differently. The key here is to show that she has overcome her vulnerability and demonstrated her determination to handle her own affairs.
She and Gyeonwoo have a dramatic reunion in front of Gyeonwoo’s aunt. The two are holding each other’s hands tightly under the table. But at that moment, she uses the strong grip she’s honed through kendo to clench Gyeonwoo’s hand so tightly it feels like it might be crushed. The veins even bulge on her forehead.
Then she utters a single line in a low voice.

“If you start acting all high and mighty again, you’re done for!”

How about an ending like this? It would allow them to maintain their existing relationship—where Gyeonwoo understands and embraces her—while ensuring she doesn’t lose her inherent confidence and eccentricity. Above all, she could demonstrate that she has overcome her vulnerability not by submitting to a man, but in her own unique way.

What should the new romantic comedy we desire look like?

For a long time, romantic comedies have brought laughter and emotion to audiences through the familiar structure of encounters, conflicts, reconciliation, and union between men and women. These genre conventions are key elements that allow audiences to enjoy the film even while anticipating the ending to some extent. However, these conventions do not necessarily require the same characters or the same ending every time.
Films like ‘Notting Hill’ and ‘My Sassy Girl’ introduce fresh characters who subvert traditional gender roles, yet ultimately revert to traditional male and female archetypes in the latter half of the film. ‘Don’t Trust Her’ also features unique characters—the con artist Young-ju and the timid Hee-cheol—but ends up reiterating familiar values in the conclusion. In contrast, ‘Singles’ maintains the individuality of its female characters until the very end and creates a thoroughly satisfying happy ending while rejecting the traditional conclusion of marriage.
This difference demonstrates that romantic comedies do not necessarily have to follow established conventions to be loved by audiences. The key lies not simply in reversing the roles of men and women. Rather, it lies in enabling characters, defined by their distinct personalities and values, to overcome conflicts and resolve the challenges of love and life on their own terms.
Shouldn’t the new romantic comedy we desire—the so-called “Neo Romantic Comedy”—seek its potential precisely in this direction? I’m referring to films that resolve the differences and conflicts between the male and female leads through humor, without being bound by traditional gender roles or the expectation of marriage as the conclusion.
Ultimately, the greatest appeal of the romantic comedy lies in its power to make us enjoy the journey even when we already know the ending. Now, we hope that even within those familiar plots and conclusions, there can be a greater diversity of characters and values. A film that breaks away from the established formula without losing the laughter and emotional resonance unique to the romantic comedy—that is precisely the kind of new romantic comedy we are looking forward to.