LOVE, SIMON: Parity Through Mediocrity

In a move that stands out, Love, Simon is being pushed as an out and proud LGBTQ romance. And a teen comedy. And a coming out drama. And it’s for…everyone?

It’s true that the indie world has become well-populated with gay and lesbian characters, but American mainstream films have been hesitant to incorporate them in a prominent way. Power Rangers and Beauty and the Beast flirted with representation last year, but a lead character openly admitting to being under this umbrella is almost unheard of in big studio releases.

That’s what makes Love, Simon so exciting, so noteworthy, and unfortunately, so tame. It got a wide release and a substantial marketing push highlighting its gay teen searching for a boyfriend plot, but the film huddles in the most pedestrian package. First steps are always hesitant, and this is as cute and uneven as those tentative stumblings always are.

Blandly Digestible

There’s a sense when watching this film that waters are being tested, that no one wanted to break the mold too much, so in every way possible it remains comfortably familiar. Sure, Simon (Nick Robinson) is trying to track down the anonymous schoolmate who admitted to being gay online, but the mystery plays out within a circle of characters you’ve seen a million times.

There’s the gregarious old friend, the charming newcomer, the one that clearly has a crush on the protagonist, and then there’s vanilla Simon, the kind of affable character you are okay with following not because he’s particularly intriguing but because he’s thoroughly pleasant. The dynamics between this group of friends leads to so many cookie-cutter plot developments in the first half of the movie that it starts feeling tired, allowing a been there, done that boredom to slowly seep in.

Not helping things is the styleless direction of Greg Berlanti, who primarily works in television producing and allows everything to play out with network-level efficiency. Nothing is glaringly wrong here, but there doesn’t seem to be any real direction given to the design of the film. It all takes place in glossy, upper middle class anywhereville with a soundtrack that feels too carefully selected to give a sense of time or place.

The nagging sense of flatness is exacerbated by its sparse sound design, but none of this is overly bothersome until the film attempts big moments that it doesn’t have the strength to pull off.  A brief musical number (which to its credit is a joke about associating gay identification with flamboyance) doesn’t have the verve to make such a jarring break work, and this and several other moments highlight just how much this film lacks personality.

But like Simon himself, the movie is built around such a time-tested package that it’s hard to dislike. The mystery surrounding the anonymous schoolmate keeps you rooting for Simon to get the guy, because darn it he just wants romance like everyone else. A good message, for sure, but one that’s been so carefully designed to be uncontentious that the film sort of feels like a missed opportunity to actually say something.

Finding Meaning At The Edges

Anyone looking for specific insight into being a closeted gay teen won’t learn much from Love, Simon, partially because of its hesitance to dig deep into its story and partially because its players simply aren’t the strongest filmmakers and performers. We’ve already covered Berlanti’s shortcomings, but some of the blame for its surface level feel is the mild competence of its actors. Robinson and most of the cast are workmanlike cogs in a machine, but Katherine Langford as Simon’s pining best friend is an actual detriment. Her lack of presence makes for zero chemistry between the two characters, and with her dragging down key moments that should flesh out Simon, the film’s take on its main character ends up even more vanilla than intended.

But despite the overly workshopped story and uninspired take, writers Elizabeth Berger and Isaac Aptaker do slip in some flecks of reality. Whether non-minorities will pick up on the depths that small lines like ‘it’s still me’ suggests is questionable, because while that moment hit this former closeted gay teen like a ton of bricks, it’s quickly brushed aside. Other iconic moments of coming out are touched upon in brief bits, like a montage of Simon trying out the stereotypical ideas of how gay men dress, but the moments that are examined are mostly stepping stones familiar to those outside as well as inside the community. This makes for a portrait of gay teens that is deceptively light, like something feigning insight without actually getting specific.

The potent bits get more numerous as the film goes along, in part because the issues Simon faces are coming to a head, but also because Berger and Aptaker are building to an emotional peak like they do so ruthlessly in the television series This is Us. Like it does for that show, the formula works, with the back half of Love, Simon stacking up meaningful moments until the crescendo feels bigger than it actually is. There’s nothing inherently wrong with this strategy; after all, an audience signs up for emotional manipulation whenever they enter a theater, but without these charged moments being backed up by full-fledged character development or insight, the payoff feels hollow upon reflection.

The Benefits Of Staying Familiar

Despite the way this film is being marketed, movies about gay characters have been targeted at wide audiences in the past, and those films set a precedent for sticking to familiar formulas. Imagine Me & You is the same as every British rom-com you’ve ever seen, except the romance is between Piper Perabo and Lena Headey. Pride is another UK product, a much more recent and much better film than Imagine Me & You, and one that frames itself as an underdog struggle.

In many ways, Love, Simon is picking up on the main lessons of its predecessors: that there is a place for these films if the packaging is light and triumphant, and I don’t just mean that it can find financial success. Showing minorities being happy or at least getting a happy ending can change the perception of them being constantly beleaguered, and frankly, it’s nice to pop on a semi-mindless piece of entertainment about someone like yourself when you’re down. I readily admit that Imagine Me & You is a crappy film, but I watch it regularly because it’s one of the few movies that gives me a swooning, rolling in the roses love scene between two women without having to wade through a bunch of downer moments.

That overall happy tone is the sweet spot Love, Simon hits, showing that while gay teens have their share of turmoil everything can still turn out great. That may still be a privileged and not altogether common reality, but hey, we all want to imagine a fantastically happy life.

Love, Simon: Conclusion

The uniqueness of Love, Simon leaves it in the awkward position of having to be too many things to too many people. It has to be accessible to wide audiences, rack up enough money that prominent LGBTQ films continue getting made, and represent a community in a satisfying way. It’s unfair to expect all of this from one movie, and it’s not surprising that, given these expectations, it took an easy route to success. And Love, Simon does ultimately succeed at making a gay coming-of-age film broadly accessible, but hopefully we’ll get more nuanced takes going forward.

What are your thoughts on Love Simon?

Love, Simon will be released in the U.S. on March 16, 2018 and in the UK on April 6, 2018. For all international release dates, click here.