Rye Lane & The Power of a Sincere (Black) Romcom
Raine Allen-Miller’s romcom abandons cynicism to become one of the all-time greats.
Here’s my lukewarm take: romantic comedies don’t hit like they used to.
In the past few years, I came to the realization that I’ve lost a lot of love for the genre that has brought me so much corny joy since my childhood.
Don’t get me wrong, I could always go back to the classics if I really needed a fix, How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days wasn’t going anywhere, but every time I found myself watching a romcom from the mid-2010s onwards, I always felt that they were lacking something that made the classics feel like classics. It wasn’t until last year when I decided to replace movie romcoms with literary (Black) ones that I realized what the problem was.
In her seminal work, All About Love: New Visions, bell hooks writes:
“Cynicism is the greatest barrier to love. It is rooted in doubt and despair. Fear intensifies our doubt. It paralyzes. Faith and hope allow us to let go. Fear stands in the way of love.”
hooks wrote this in the year 2000, and it was only when reading it for the first time in late 2022, that I realized what my issue with a lot of modern romantic comedies, and movies in general, was.
Cynicism.
In a modern era where meta humour, 4th wall breaks, subversion, and MCU-style witticisms have seemingly become the ultimate indicator of intelligent writing; film and TV have almost found themselves completely unable to be sincere. There’s almost this crippling fear or lack of desire to put themselves out there, to have enough confidence in their writing, characters, and dialogue or to even try something without mocking the fact that they tried in the first place. Cynical writing gives us characters who constantly feel the need to point out the ridiculousness of their own actions, who are made to simply name tropes rather than find interesting or clever ways to subvert them, or who feel the need to undercut moments of sincerity with a joke that isn’t so much delivered as it is spoken almost directly to the audience, and it’s because of this trend that positivity and earnestness are sorely missed.
Perhaps this is why projects like Ted Lasso, Abbott Elementary, and Everything, Everywhere, All At Once have occupied the hearts and minds of so many, these are projects that largely resist cynical storytelling and hold nothing back, they are unashamed of being silly, unafraid to be confident enough in their writing and acting, and to simply try without need for a caveat. For these projects to reject cynicism and embrace hope and sincerity doesn’t necessarily mean that they are always positive or don’t have cynical characters, it simply means that the creators are happy to put themselves and their characters out there, and to have faith in the strength of their craft to allow us to immerse ourselves in whatever story and style they want to show us.
And this is exactly how Rye Lane sets itself apart.
This movie is hands down one of my favourite romantic comedies in a long, long time, and maybe even the best British romcom I’ve seen in 15 years (am I wrong for going all the way back to Angus, Thongs, and Perfect Snogging?). Raine Allen Miller’s directional debut leaps off of the screen with fun, inventive, cartoon-like set pieces that bring its zany flashbacks and cutaways to life. The snappy editing really gives the film its own distinct flow and personality, while the beautiful composition and cinematography that bring South London to the big screen in a way that feels vibrant and authentic (particularly love how the shot choice can range from Peep Show-esque POV shots to fish-eyed wide shots as people and places come in and out of the story with our leads always in focus). In a film full of so many MVPs, it’s hard not to give a special shoutout to Kwes, whose score knows exactly how to complement both the playfulness and depth of the sharp, naturalistic, and impossibly precise dialogue. It just feels like a film where every single person involved was giving their all and having a great time doing it. And this is all before I’ve even gotten to the story.
The story of Rye Lane is a fairly straightforward one; after both suffering devastating break-ups, soft boi accountant Dom (David Jonsson) and larger-than-life, budding costume designer Yas (Vivian Oparah) first cross paths when the latter overhears the former bitterly weeping over the remains of his shattered relationship in a toilet cubicle, and already I’m hooked.
Black romantic comedies often tend to fall into a few categories: there are the general “ Battle of the sexes” ones, the “ Please save me from my spouse” ones, the “ He’s trash but maybe he’ll grow up for me” one, or the “ He’s a player but he’ll give up the game for me, for some reason” ones. In many of these films, the goal is not love, but dominance, they’re a game of one-up-manship that often doesn’t concern itself with feeling like an equal partnership where both sides are equitably beneficial to each other. Don’t get me wrong, I love that sh*t regardless, but when Rye Lane opens up with the image of Dom, a young Black British man weeping uncontrollably over his poor, broken heart while Yas uncomfortably tries to offer some comfort, it almost instantly gives me the impression that I’m about to watch something refreshing. It’s a great way to immediately subvert my expectations while still remaining completely earnest and sincere.
Along with Dom, we’re introduced to Yas who is chatty, mischievous, endlessly curious, and hilarious with an endearing habit of speaking before she thinks. In a genre where Black female romantic leads often fall into the categories of the seductress, the girlboss with a heart of ice, the fixer-upper, or the babysitter, Yas’ character is crafted beautifully. Oparah plays her as a force of nature, initially approaching Dom with sympathy and curiosity that’s almost childlike in its simplicity before realizing she might have just stumbled into something wonderful, and subsequently doing everything in her chaotic nature to avoid the anxiety and vulnerability that this brings out in her. That’s the beauty of our two leads, they don’t feel like archetypes who can be put into a box or categorized, they feel like people.
As we slowly delve into the tortured love lives of our two leads, we learn that Dom is the victim of an unfaithful long-term girlfriend who outgrew him and decided to move on to the nearest aesthetic upgrade, his best friend since primary school. We’re shown the day that Dom’s life fell apart in what is a hilariously tragic and immersive flashback (a small highlight has to be Yas coming out of Dom’s cinema-themed story back to the real world, but still walking out of the scene with a box of popcorn). Everything about this section is great and once we’ve watched them share their goals, reveal the inertia that their lives are currently in, and hurt each other’s feeling the way that strangers often do while getting to know each other (Dom hurts Yas by rejecting her help due to his rigidity, and Yas hurts Dom by lightly mocking his overly-accepting approach to his ex’s rejection of him), we go with Dom to a restaurant where he’s been coerced into peace talks with the two people who did him wrong.
The restaurant scene is packed with laughs from beginning to end, whether it’s the random appearance of Munya Chawawa as the in-house performer; Benjamin Sarpong-Broni’s performance as Dom’s dim-witted best friend Eric (who is just so hilariously oblivious to what’s happening around him); or the way in which Karene Peter (who plays Dom’s ex, Gia) perfectly sells the barely-hidden contempt she has as she realizes she left Dom for the human equivalent to the “ My Ye is Different From Your Ye “ meme. An already great scene becomes even better when Yas crashes the proceedings, she’s unable to stomach the idea of Dom lying down and simply taking his humiliation, and so the story lightly dips its toes into the “fake-dating” trope, with Yas pretending to be Dom’s new friendly beneficiary and weaving a wonderfully hilarious fake karaoke meet-cute story that Dom adorably goes along with. After seeing just how dense Eric is, Yas can’t help but launch into a passionate (maybe too passionate) defense of Dom, admonishing Gia for cheating on him and insulting Eric’s intelligence before taking Dom and leaving (Eric having no issue with Yas’ tirade because she compliments his arms is brilliant). Both Oparah and Jonsson deliver this moment perfectly, with Oparah expertly conveying that moment when the confidence and joy she gets from f**king with two people who deserve it, slowly gives way to genuine anger and hurt as it becomes clearer and clearer that she’s projecting her own heartbreak onto Dom’s situation. The chemistry of the two leads works in harmony with the directing, and it’s impossible not to smile at Jonsson’s performance as he gets more and more into the lie and the catharsis of putting Eric and Gia in their place finally brings the shy young accountant out of his shell, even busting out a little dance outside the restaurant.
However, in another example of the excellent character-writing in Rye Lane, as we see Dom come out of his shell, we simultaneously see Yas withdraw slightly into hers, suddenly her chaotic, fast-talking energy has a funny tinge of nervousness and anxiety to it. During their earlier walk through Peckham, it becomes more and more apparent that Yas is running from something. She refuses to look at her phone and seems determined to avoid her own problems by focusing entirely on Dom’s (because she’s written to be a relatable human being). Thus far in the narrative, we’ve been told that Yas was the one who ended her relationship, dumping her seemingly pretentious and joyless boyfriend who simply wasn’t the type to wave at boats (demonstrated in a cutaway that legit made me belly-laugh), but we’ve seen enough movie to know that everything isn’t as it seems, and Oparah does a great job of portraying Yas distinctly as someone who’s just kind of making it up as she goes along.
Although this next section is where the least “plot” happens, I would argue that the most important part of Rye Lane is the part that takes place in Brixton, where Yas and Dom spend a good amount of time simply walking and talking. The two talk about their personal philosophies, their lives, and the moment they both realized their relationships were in trouble (replicating your first date in a candlelit Morleys would absolutely be my first idea for a romantic gesture and it’s important to note that my first ideas for things are almost always terrible). The script does such a good job of showing us who our two leads are, their similarities, their differences, and how they fit together. There’s a hilarious scene in Brixton Market where Yas throws out a compliment to a random woman (while picking up a couple of Supermalts, the third-best kind of malts) and the woman gratefully accepts the compliment; using the newfound appreciation for spontaneity that he’s gaining from Yas, Dom compliments a random dude (an Oscar-worthy cameo from Michael Dapaah) on his shoes and earns himself nothing but a “suck ya mum” for his troubles. Rye Lane avoids the common romcom pitfall of giving the viewer two leads who feel a bit too similar in order to make it easier for us to see them together, which can often serve just to make their dynamic a bit too one-dimensional and stale. The film has enough faith in itself to present us with two very different leads, but still, have me completely sold on them as a couple barely into the second act because it’s willing to let them bounce off of each other, agree, disagree, lightly offend each other, and just set how they fit. Yas and Dom are characters that would be equally as fun to watch on the 1st day of their relationship as they would be on the 1,000th day they’ve been together.
As the film progresses, we start to see more of what Yas is hiding, she receives a call about an interview she’s clearly too afraid to go to, and finally opens up about her hummus-heavy break-up. This is part of this piece where I give massive props to Malcolm Atobrah who is unbelievably funny as Yas’ pretentious ex-boyfriend, Jules. Guys, Jules is freakin hilarious, every line delivery is perfect, and the character feels like the kind of guy you’d see in one of those fake plays or shows featured in an Issa Rae project. Every time he pops up in a scene, he just makes me laugh, whether it’s the short and sweet reason he’s not the type of guy who waves at boats (a big red flag for Yas) or the way he asks Yas to turn down the music because he’s “sonically sensitive”, I just love this character.
Through another inventively-directed flashback, we watch with maybe 50 Doms as Yas relives the story of how she grew tired of catering to Jules’s whims and simply left him and never came back. While Dom is thoroughly entertained, he’s perhaps too in awe of Yas to see that she’s clearly doing the same thing that he did. When Dom tells the story of his breakup, he briefly entertains the idea that he stormed over to his flat and beat the sh*t out of Eric, much to the approval of Yas and that shirtless white dude who’s just in the background of that scene; but a key difference between Yas and Dom is that, although that false, macho version of events impresses Yas, it simply isn’t Dom’s truth, and he immediately comes clean. Yas’ version of her break-up clearly doesn’t jibe with all of the subtle ways we’ve been shown that Yas is clearly not as confident and “over it” as she appears, but Dom is too enamored with her to pick up on the signs, simply believing that because he told her everything, that he can trust her to do the same.
Once Yas has been through the production that was her breakup, we discover that she wants to retrieve a vinyl album from Jules’ flat, and that becomes our main objective for the remainder of the 2nd act. We start by going to the house of Jules’ mum who may have a spare key. In order to complete this part of the mission, Dom must navigate a backyard cookout, complete with old-school Lovers’ Rock, jerk chicken, and uncles drinking Wray & Nephews straight like it’s an episode of Desmond’s while Yas looks for the key. We’re treated to a gag that probably got the biggest laugh out of me as, in an attempt to endear himself to an uncle, Dom is pressured into displaying his taste in music for everyone to hear.
Guys. The second I heard Daniel Bedingfield’s sappy banger If You’re Not the One, the whitest possible thing you could play at a cookout besides maybe Cotton-Eyed Joe, I laughed myself to tears (as someone who’s heard the dreaded “Oi who’s playlist is this??” at a motive, I felt this spiritually, we have eclectic music tastes okay??). Everything about this moment was perfect cinema, and it was capped off by another uncle vibing to one of the songs on Dom’s phone (on the second viewing, I could’ve sworn I saw Jonsson struggling not to laugh). We finish this set piece with a funny misunderstanding where Dom receives an unreliable tip that the keys are in a drawer and is accidentally caught rifling through aunty’s pantie drawer after overhearing Yas say that she’s simply hanging with him because she feels sorry for him.
Another pitfall that I’ve seen hinder many romcoms is the “Overheard but misunderstood” trope, where one character overhears another talking them down in a situation where their words should clearly be taken with a pinch of salt, and this is what ends up driving the essential third act wedge between them. This is the part I’m at in the rom-com I’m currently reading and it’s a real struggle to get through. Luckily, Rye Lane is simply built different. While Dom is initially upset with Yas’ words and confronts her about it, the characters are also realistic enough to simply talk about it; they both acknowledge that the truth in Yas’ harsh words, and — because Dom’s emotional nature isn’t treated as something to be ashamed of — it’s a truth that stings him, but one that he fairly easily accepts. This grounded and honest exchange also prompts Yas to come clean about her anxiety over facing rejection from the job interview she’s been avoiding. We finally see Yas come clean about her anxiety and fear of putting herself out there, and Dom responds with encouragement and uplifting words to ease her worries. These two are adorable.
After finally exchanging numbers and a quick moped journey set to Stormzy’s Vossi Bop, (making sure to really emphasize the “F**k the government, fuck Boris” as is always necessary), Dom and Yas head to a karaoke bar run by Yas’ friend Mona. Mona’s price for her complicity is that Dom and Yas perform a karaoke rendition of Salt-N-Pepa’s hit, Shoop, and in another sign of how far Dom has come over the course of the movie, he’s the one who takes the lead when Yas falters, stumbling through the first verse despite an increasingly hostile reaction from the crowd (every single person who heard Dom ask “Girls what’s my weakness?” and didn’t immediately yell back “MEN!” is a damn hater and shouldn’t be trusted). Finally, Yas is inspired to join him and the two do what they’ve done for the entire movie: support one another and give each other confidence, Dom is able to say “F*ck it” and take the stage, while Yas is able to overcome her fear of performing for the hostile crowd.
It’s important to take a moment to really stress how wonderful the lighting of Rye Lane is, specifically in this scene. Many projects tend to falter when trying to light Black (specifically dark-skinned) characters, but in this scene, the blue, green, and purple lighting is perfect for our two leads.
After bringing down the house, and living out the fake meet-cute that they told Gia and Eric, our two leads share their first kiss, proving both mine and High School Musical’s hypothesis that nothing brings two people together more effectively than a karaoke duet. In classic London nightlife fashion, their attempt to turn the kiss into something more is interrupted by a dutiful bouncer who makes sure the two don’t desecrate the sanctity of a toilet in a London bar (toilets are important in this movie), so finally the two are able to head over to Jules’ house to retrieve the vinyl.
Usually, in a romcom, the scene in which a big confrontation happens, leading the two leads to split up is probably my least favourite of the film, even some of the GOATs have struggled with this flaw. But Rye Lane manages to navigate this potential pitfall by making this scene as eventful, raw, and chaotic as it is hilarious and heartbreaking.
As Dom sets his sights on retrieving the vinyl, Yas clearly seems to be more distracted by all of the signs that her ex has moved on, confusing Dom as to why Yas — the dumper — cares so much about how her dumpee is living his life. Obviously, they’re caught red-handed (Yas in particular is caught trying on red underwear belonging to Jules’ new partner/life coach, Tabby) and the chaos that unfolds is both great and devastating to watch. Jules knows exactly what to say to cut right to the heart of all of Yas’ insecurities and we watch her shrink into herself as it’s made brutally clear to Dom that it was, in fact, Jules who ended the relationship. Among the laundry list of things that I love about this scene (Tabby finding Dom’s infatuation with Yas adorable instead of being the catty other women, the fact that everything in that room is apparently a sculpture), what truly strikes me about this scene is both Oparah’s performance and Dom’s response to Jules’ behaviour.
In bell hooks’ Will to Change (I like dissecting romance stories through a hooksian lens, sue me), she constantly points out how often men in media resort to violent tactics in order to establish themselves as the dominant hero. In many movies, the male lead will almost always respond to themselves or their love interest being disrespected by throwing a punch; even the nerdier ones do this to assert how they are, indeed, capable of being the alpha male, but Dom goes up immensely in my estimations by not doing this. Instead, Dom’s reaction to Jules’ disrespect is to reiterate how amazing his experience has been with Yas and to focus his attention on retrieving the album, the one thing Yas told him that she wants. While he probably could have been a bit better with the clap backs, Dom’s main priority is simply getting Yas what she said she needed for closure, and removing her from a toxic environment. Even when Jules hits him, he doesn’t fight back (Jonsson’s delivery of “YOUR HANDS ARE YOUR TOOLS!” when trying to dissuade Jules from punching him is amazing). Dom’s arc over the course of Rye Lane isn’t that he needs to “man up” or that he needs a masculine makeover and learn to dominate in order to become a high-value male, he simply becomes more comfortable with being himself, opening himself up to new things, and expressing his thoughts, feelings, and desires in a more self-assured and spontaneous manner.
After accidentally breaking a few more sculptures, one of which is literally just a plant that Tabby says she posed for, Yas and Dom are kicked out into the street to have their classic rom-com third act bust up.
This scene is both written and acted well, Yas is forced to come clean about how badly the breakup hurt her while Dom is simply hurt that the person he’s fallen for and entrusted so much to has been lying to him this entire time. Clearly shaken, Yaz is again confronted with her fear of rejection and lashes out at Dom, mocking his previous lack of spontaneity and his crying session in the toilet. It’s difficult to watch this interaction mostly because the film has done such a good job of making me care about the characters and making them 3-dimensional enough to give this conflict multiple facets to it. While Yas is wrong for lying, she also correctly points out that Dom’s almost uncritical adulation of her made Yas want to maintain this lie. We’ve spent the entire film watching Dom gain his confidence from following Yas’ example, but because of this, Dom’s growth isn’t yet authentic, and it obviously puts pressure on Yas to continue to be “iconic”. Meanwhile, Yas’ fear is a classic example of how her own doubt paralyzes her and causes her to deny herself, growth, love, and self-love; when she lashes out at Dom you can clearly see that she’s pre-empting the rejection that she fears from him and this moment is played to perfection by both actors.
And so we come to the classic section of the rom-com featuring a montage of how our two leads are depressed and constantly thinking about one another. While this part of the romcom is one that I usually zone out for, Rye Lane wisely uses this section to have both Yas and Dom independently decide to take responsibility for their own growth, taking the lessons they both learned from each other and using them to develop into more whole adults. Dom tries to step out of his comfort zone, sampling spicier food, taking moped lessons, and doing things that scare him, while Yas takes the professional leap and goes for the costume designer job that she was so afraid of as both of them go on underwhelming dates (no way that lady Dom was seeing said “heroin chic”). It’s while doing her work as a costume designer that Yas confides, now feeling truthful enough to reveal that she’s still thinking about Dom and that she’s paralyzed by the fear of opening herself up to a relationship with him and risking rejection.
Then we get some classic meta-humour.
And it’s perfect.
As Yas pours her heart out to multiple actresses, she then overhears the direction being given to one of them by the director (I’m not entirely sure but I think this is a cameo from Allen-Miller?). In a very meta monologue, the director lays out exactly how the film needs to wrap up, with Yas needing to be honest about her feelings, own her truth, put herself out there, and make a grand rom-com gesture for the boy she’s fallen for.
I’ve previously mentioned that I took issue with the way that modern romcoms have used meta-humour in a cynical way, often belittling the tropes/cliches of the genre for their sappy and overly-sincere nature to make themselves look cool and above it. But the way in which the humour is used here simply solidifies the fact that Rye Lane is a rom-com that is unashamedly proud to be a rom-com. Instead of mocking this genre cliche, Rye Lane uses this meta moment to double down and reiterate the need for Yas to be sincere, to be unafraid to wear her heart on her sleeve, and to abandon fear, self-doubt, and cynicism in order to open herself up to the scary unknown that is love.
Rye Lane ends with Yas having faith in herself and Dom, and hoping that taking the leap in both her career and love life will end in happiness, naturally it does, because this is a film that chooses to reward sincerity and openness.
While attending Nate’s follow-up art exhibition, this time focusing on butts (special mention for Eric’s pronunciation of the word “canapes”), Dom finally receives a call from Yas who tells him to look out of the gallery window and onto the Thames. He sees a tour boat with someone waving at him and decides to wave back, confirming much to Yas’ joy that he is indeed the type of man who waves back at people on boats. While it’s beyond refreshing to see the male lead on the receiving end of a romantic gesture that is grand enough to be memorable, yet private enough to avoid the coming off as emotional blackmail through peer pressure, my only gripe is that Dom has to run/walk far too much to receive this gesture; yes, it’s adorable and romantic but if I’m the one being romanced I shouldn’t have to add so much to my step count.
But Dom isn’t lazy like me, and as he and Yas finally embrace with the camera panning around them, he commits to having the confidence to embrace a new unknown while Yas finally decides to wear her heart on her sleeve, completing their individual character arcs and allowing Rye Lane to end on a perfect note.
Simply put, Rye Lane is easily the best romantic comedy of the past decade and absolutely deserves to be seen as one of the GOATs of the genre.
While I haven’t yet seen any interviews with director Raine India Allen-Miller or writers Nathan Bryon and Tom Melia, it seems apparent to me that Rye Lane is a romantic comedy made by creatives who love their craft and love romantic comedies. If the narrative choices don’t make this clear, look no further than classic rom-com references like Colin Firth serving food to Dom and Yas in a joint called “Love Guac’tually” (the fact that Yas calls him Colin makes me believe that the Colin Firth of the Rye Lane world decided to leave acting behind and open a shop in Brixton market that pays homage to his worst romcom) and Dom walking past a woman wearing Bridget Jones’ iconic bunny outfit.
What is also wonderful about this film is that, at its core, it is a film about two young, Black adults falling in love in South London, and it manages to be so without forcing Black trauma into the plot. While not inherently bad, it is often noticeable just how many Black-led projects in the UK center around themes of Black pain, trauma, drug abuse, violence, and just general misery. It’s important to stress that this is not the fault of the creatives who want to tell these stories, the problem is that the creative industry has, in the past, shied away from alternative Black stories, leading to an oversaturation of Black pain on our screens, and many Black creatives often feel that there is nothing for them in the UK media creative industry. Thankfully, Rye Lane is one of many recent projects that seem to show the progress that is slowly being made; showing us funny, true-to-life characters who get to feel like real people just living their lives and falling in love in a healthy way.
Rye Lane cements itself as a hall-of-famer not just by giving us a great, Black romantic comedy that is simply allowed to be sweet, goofy, sincere, and fun, but by embracing its genre and not being afraid to renounce the cynicism of its peers, confidently telling its story on its own terms. I truly hope that this film gets its flowers both now, and a long way down the line, because Allen-Miller, Oparah, Jonsson, Nathan Bryon, Tom Melia and everyone involved in this awesome film absolutely deserves them.
Originally published at http://jjwi13.wordpress.com on March 19, 2023.
