With the term “bro-mance” a recent creation, it was only a matter of time before the clichés of romantic comedies would be combined with the traditions of male-bonding flicks in order to create the perfect parody: a movie where a romantic relationship plays out to perfection while the male half’s new best friend provides the rocky road to true love. The film, I Love You, Man, is a humorous treat, blessed with Paul Rudd’s wholly amiable willingness to make a complete ass of himself. Even more remarkable is the contemplation that it inspires in its viewers: do we give our friendships the attention they deserve? Our friends tend to be the ones who take our calls when we’re miserable, and our boy/girlfriends tend to be ones inspiring the call. A media obsessed with deconstructing romance, finding ways to keep us optimistically single on the way happy coupledom in order to sell merchandise is, unsurprisingly, unlikely to inspire the maintenance of our friendships. Nobody in He’s Just Not That Into You bothered to put down the phone after leaving a desperate voicemail, turn to their moral support and say “Thanks for sharing
my craziness with me—you’re the reason I get up every morning.” Carrie Bradshaw sat on a bus to Atlantic City and pointed out to Miranda Hobbes that friendship needed to be actively protected because, looking around at the senior-aged women clamouring for seats, at the end of life, she observes, “it’s just us”. Then the movie version of Sex And The City sold out and turned a show about friendship into a film about couples. Screw love in Manhattan, screw Cate Blanchett nursing Brad Pitt into his infancy: I Love You, Man is the most romantic movie of the year. Now playing in theatres in wide release.