Isn't It Romantic

I watched Isn't It Romantic on a Tuesday evening while nursing a lukewarm cup of peppermint tea and trying to ignore the fact that my neighbor was learning the drums. Oddly enough, the rhythmic thumping from next door perfectly matched the vibrant, candy-colored heartbeat of this film. It’s a movie that knows exactly what it is, exactly what it’s making fun of, and exactly how much glitter is too much (spoiler: there is never enough glitter).

Released in 2019, right as the "Netflix Rom-Com Renaissance" was hitting its stride with titles like Set It Up, this film took a different route. Instead of just being another entry in the genre, it decided to perform a full-scale autopsy on it while the patient was still awake and singing "A Thousand Miles" by Vanessa Carlton.

The Tropes Are Coming From Inside The House

The setup is classic meta-fiction. Natalie, played with a delightful, grounded cynicism by Rebel Wilson, is an architect in a gritty, grey New York City. She’s the woman in the office who gets asked to fetch coffee even though she’s the one designing the buildings. She hates romantic comedies with the fire of a thousand suns, thanks to a childhood lecture from her mother about how "life isn't a movie."

Then, the inciting incident: a subway mugging leads to a head-first collision with a steel beam. When Natalie wakes up, the ER doctor is impossibly handsome, the hospital smells like lavender, and her cramped, cluttered apartment has transformed into a palatial suite with a walk-in closet that would make Carrie Bradshaw weep.

Director Todd Strauss-Schulson, who previously directed the brilliant meta-slasher The Final Girls, brings that same self-aware energy here. He treats the rom-com genre like a confined reality. In this world, New York doesn't smell like trash; it smells like "cupcakes and hope." The lighting is perpetually golden hour, and every time Natalie tries to drop an F-bomb, a conveniently timed truck horn or ambulance siren bleeps her out to maintain the PG-13 rating. It is essentially a cinematic Witness Protection Program for people who find Nicholas Sparks novels offensive.

A Masterclass in "Hunkery"

The casting is where the film really earns its keep. Liam Hemsworth is a revelation here, mostly because he leans entirely into the absurdity of playing "Blake," a billionaire client who exists solely to look smoldering and say things like, "You’re beguiling." Hemsworth is essentially playing a sentient piece of mahogany with a jawline, and his commitment to the bit is hilarious. Watching him attempt to be "regular" while looking like he was sculpted by an over-zealous Greek god is half the fun.

Then there’s the reliable Adam Devine as Josh, Natalie’s real-world best friend. Their chemistry is effortless—likely because they’ve worked together so much in the Pitch Perfect franchise—but the film throws a wrench in the works by pairing him with Priyanka Chopra Jonas. She plays Isabella, a "yoga ambassador" (a title that perfectly lampoons the vague, high-status jobs people have in these movies).

However, the real MVP for me—and many in the film's growing cult following—is Brandon Scott Jones as Donny. He plays the "Gay Best Friend" trope with such exaggerated, performative zest that he nearly steals every scene he's in. The way he materializes out of thin air just to offer fashion advice or emotional support is a sharp, funny critique of how the genre has historically sidelined LGBTQ+ characters into one-dimensional accessories.

Why It Sticks in the Streaming Era

In the context of late 2010s cinema, Isn't It Romantic feels like a necessary exhale. We were (and still are) in an era of franchise dominance and heavy CGI spectacles. While this movie has its fair share of digital trickery to make New York look like a floral arrangement, its heart is in the deconstruction of storytelling. It arrived just as audiences were becoming "genre-literate"—we know the beats, we know the "running through the airport" finale, and we know the "ugly duckling" transformation.

The film’s "cult" status comes from its rewatchability. It’s packed with background gags. If you look closely at the shops in Natalie’s dream world, they have names like "Wedding Dresses & Such" or "Cupcake Emporium." It’s a movie designed for the "pause and find the joke" generation.

Interestingly, while it was a theatrical release in the US, its international life on Netflix solidified its status. It’s the kind of film that people "discover" on a Friday night and then immediately text their friends about. It doesn't ask for a lot of emotional labor, but it rewards you for paying attention to the craftsmanship. The cinematography by Simon Duggan is intentionally over-saturated, creating a visual language that feels like a hug from a sentient marshmallow.

The film’s greatest strength is that it eventually stops making fun of the genre and starts participating in it—but on its own terms. The resolution isn't about finding a man; it’s about Natalie realizing she’s the protagonist of her own life regardless of her relationship status. It’s a message that could have been incredibly cheesy, but because the first 70 minutes are so cynical and sharp, the "heart" at the end feels earned rather than forced. It’s a bright, breezy, 88-minute distraction that manages to say something real about self-worth while Priyanka Chopra Jonas does slow-motion yoga in the background. If you’ve ever rolled your eyes at a movie poster featuring two people leaning back-to-back, this is the corrective lens you need.