Dreamlike dance sequences in LA, the art of seduction in Spain and ecstasy of first love found in Italy—writer Emma Firth explores the joy of getting lost in a summer romance.
As far as ages go, seventeen and a half was a distinctly sweet spot. Specifically the stretch of empty days from July through August to fill and daydream. On the cusp of adulthood; the first deep infatuation with a musician who looked a bit like a younger, better looking, and puppy-eyed Tom Waits (naïve enough to not comprehend the emotional comedowns that occur with intense regularity when actually dating a musician); discovering John Hughes; joyfully reading Jane Austen in a cloudless Regents Park; trying to imagine the type of person I would become when I eventually call this city home. Escapism was found not so much in holidays, but rather at The Little Picture House in my sleepy village—the erstwhile local DVD store, just before the streamers killed it—picking and choosing a constellation of fictional romances that took me from Rome to New York.
When I picture summer, the image is soaked in a kind of sepia-toned fantasy. A longing. For longer days that ease softly into nights unblemished by anxiety, for little agenda, more fun, more magic, more time to become fully absorbed in a book longer than 200 pages, more “hey, wanna grab a drink x?”, a simpler way of being, a desire to smoke (even if you’ve never smoked a cigarette in your life), cold beers, warm kisses, sun kisses. It has always been considered the sexiest of the four seasons. Well, at least the idea of it. When you’re still holding onto the absolute possibility of it all. Before the fear of missing out, end of summer stress and back to reality-ness of it all has really settled in.
Nothing’s really happened yet, but the point is everything could happen! If summer were an age, I think it would be seventeen: sweet, silly, romantic, a little naïve, pleasure-wanting seventeen. As a genre, there’s something uniquely affecting about the ‘summer romance’. It feels more urgent and exposing than, say, the comfort of an autumnal-Nora Ephron cloaked-in-rollneck-jumpers romance (of which I return to, often, come October). Summer is an acceptable intermission to briefly abandon normal rhythms and reason. A time to unlock a more spontaneous self who cares little for routine. So, from the intensity of first love to the sun-drenched splendour of flirting with a stranger in European cities, here are some of my favourite romantic escapes to revisit this season…
Call Me by Your Name (2017)
I’m not a die-hard Timothée Chalamet fan, but his performance as 17-year-old Elio who falls for an American scholar camping out at his parents’ house in Northern Italy is a masterful study of the all-consuming headiness and heartbreak of first love. Added bonus: an expertly curated soundtrack blending soulful ballads with 1980s synth-pop.
Sylvie’s Love (2020)
An underrated epic period romance (the pandemic denied its deserved theatrical release). Opening in the summer of 1957 in Harlem, New York City, Tessa Thompson is illuminating as an aspiring TV producer, Sylvie, who falls for a sweet and shy jazz saxophonist. A sensitive coming-of-age tale about soulmates, Black joy and passion unshattered by separation.
Something’s Gotta Give (2003)
Generally, Hollywood appears to be allergic to later-in-life romantic comedies. A crying shame. As Eve Pell writes, in her Modern Love essay which documents her second marriage in her 70s: “young love, even for old people, can be surprisingly bountiful”. Here, Diane Keaton plays a writer who forms a connection with her daughter’s older playboy boyfriend (Jack Nicholson) at her summer house in the Hamptons. A funny and charming romp for Nancy Meyers fans.
Say Anything (1989)
The summer before university. John Cusack holding up a boom box. Big feelings. Car sex. The underachiever who falls for the straight-A student. Literally everything you could possibly want from a late-1980s teenage romance.
Vicky Cristina Barcelona (2008)
In short: two American tourists spend the summer in Barcelona and meet an intensely brooding artist (Javier Bardem). Cue much horniness and hilarity. Watch for Penelope Cruz’s performance alone, as the unhinged and absurdly beautiful ex-wife of Bardem’s character.
Lovers Rock (2020)
For those in desperate need of a more realistic meet-cute. Set over one euphoric evening at a house party in 1980s West London, Steve McQueen’s ode to young love and romantic reggae music is irresistible. Lovers Rock is the second instalment in the director’s Small Axe five-part anthology series exploring the pleasure and pains of Black British life between the 1960s and ‘80s.
Before Sunset (2004)
Really Richard Linklater’s entire Before… romantic trilogy is deserving of a spot on your summer watchlist. In the 2004 sequel, it’s been nine years since Celine and Jesse met on a train and mooched around Vienna together: they are older, a little more worn down by life and love, and trying to make sense of the then and now. Much like Before Sunrise, it’s essentially 80 minutes of conversation, with questions hanging curiously in the air. “Maybe we’re only good at brief encounters?” Celine ponders. “Walking around in European cities in warm climates…”
Grease (1978)
An obvious, albeit necessary, addition. Featuring an entire love song, Summer Nights, which is dedicated to the innocence of Sandy and Danny’s initial holiday romance at the beach, bowling in the arcade, strolling, drinking lemonade, making out “under the dock”. Sugar-rush in cinematic form.
La La Land (2016)
Another (more grown up) musical romance. With melancholy notes, yes, but managing to sidestep cynicism. Damien Chazelle’s Oscar-winning film may end in winter, but really it is a love letter to the kind of romance that feels like summer at golden hour, dancing high above the city.
Roman Holiday (1953)
Decades before Notting Hill’s ‘somebody meets a nobody’ script, there was Audrey Hepburn’s breakout turn as a bored princess roaming around Rome on a vespa, seeking adventure and ice cream with an American journalist (Gregory Peck). Soft-serve Sunday viewing.
Dirty Dancing (1987)
I would argue this is the GOAT of the summer romance genre. The movie that put lakes on the map as the hottest landmark, watermelons as the most charming of accessories and Solomon Burke’s Cry To Me as the best song to make out to.
