It’s often said that the romcom is dead. Kiss goodbye to the crisp charm of Nora Ephron’s freshly sharpened pencil bouquets in the fall, embrace the era of musings on love as nothing more than a maths equation. Then along comes gripping teen romance The Summer I Turned Pretty and it gets us at the first Taylor Swift track.
Across its 26-episode run, the adaptation of Jenny Han’s trilogy of novels has won the hearts of millennials who have been desperately yearning for a nostalgic watch to fill the void of 00s romcoms. Reminiscent of rose-tinted love stories of their youth, before dating apps, catfishing and ghosting entered their vocabulary, the show’s potency has been such that Prime Video even issued a warning asking viewers not to use hate speech towards the cast. It isn’t real, no matter how visceral it feels, and the streamer didn’t even wait 24 hours to let fans know that a feature film finale is on the way.
There are hopes online that the film holds snippets of Christmas in Paris, a wedding where the bride actually makes it down the aisle and pleas for more scenes with Conrad smiling. A small ask from the surprise hit of the year.
If you’ve somehow missed this sensation, it follows Isabel “Belly” Conklin, who in season one is on the brink of 16 when her childlike quirks bloom into beauty (yes, really) and the Fisher brothers, Conrad and Jeremiah, both fall in love with her. As nonsensical as it sounds, the series is an agonising masterclass in modern romance with reflections on identity, grief, betrayal and first loves.
Bathed in a Nancy Meyers aesthetic of the quaint coastal town of Cousins, combined with the enduring allure of the most romantic city in Europe, season three is an amalgamation of everything that is poetic about this supposedly dying genre. There’s a love triangle that emerges as the trio grow up together, the will-they-won’t-they pull of Belly’s first love with Conrad, and an American living that whimsical dream of Paris. It’s not with the outlandish opulence of Emily in Paris either, but has a charming realism that doesn’t romanticise the grit of working two jobs and being eternally homesick in a city full of strangers. Throw in a Friends-style “did he get on the plane?” moment and a Love Actually-esque race through a train station in Paris, and it’s a recipe for swooning.
Will they or won’t they … Conrad (Christopher Briney) and Belly (Lola Tung) in The Summer I Turned Pretty. Photograph: Eddy Chen/Prime
Dramatic declarations of love are nothing without the turbulence it takes to get there, and the show is full of the chaos of teen romance. No self-respecting grown woman would call herself “Belly”, or torment two brothers by having them fight over her, seemingly switching between them with each passing summer. It also usually doesn’t take sending a man home sobbing to realise – a beat too late – which of two brothers you’re actually in love with.
The Summer I Turned Pretty also has that distinctively mid-2000s feel to it, with the rivalries of Team Conrad and Team Jeremiah having spawned T-shirts, watch parties and even themed hen dos. Han penned the novels from 2008 to 2011, before social media became all-consuming, which may account for it having an old-school charm without being overtly intentional with its 2000s nostalgia. Weave in some “sad girl” Swift anthems and you have all teen girls’ dreams: an epic love story – where everyone is loved back – told to the backdrop of hazy, sun-soaked days with a Swift-heavy soundtrack.
An addictive puzzle … Belly (Lola Tung) in The Summer I Turned Pretty. Photograph: Eddy Chen/Prime
This week’s finale, aptly titled At Last, slots in the missing romantic pieces to this addictive puzzle. Handwritten love letters lead to a surprise turn-up-at-your-door arrival, a definitive choice and a pledge to love each other in all universes. In the real world, of course, men aren’t written by women, romance isn’t like a teen novel and most of us will never be chased through the streets of Paris by someone wanting to declare the urgency of their love. So, for now, The Summer I Turned Pretty is that comforting reassurance that a love like that exists. The chaotic, all-consuming, lifelong kind of love that makes you feel like a teenager again.
Han has already come through on her promise of returning to Cousins, in movie form. Until then, I’m just a girl sitting in front of a laptop asking you to devour this show. And, studios, take note – The Summer I Turn Pretty should be the blueprint for all future romantic endeavours. It has it all, and it isn’t afraid to own it.
