Redefining "Happily Ever After"
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| Image description: "Hold it... is this a kissing book?" asks the grandson in The Princess Bride to his grandfather, who is reading the titular novel to him as the film's framing device. Sweeping romantic tales - whether serious or somewhat silly like The Princess Bride itself - are nothing new, and are often things I love (this film being a prime example). But they've also created a narrative of what happy endings should look like that spill over into reality. Can we rewrite these narratives? I take a look at that in today's post. |
And yet, I feel a lot of media has something of a
complicated relationship with the concept of “happily ever after.” For
instance, in some works, this notion is explored as existing only in the fairy
tales and stories that gave us the phrase in the first place. Other pieces of
media choose to portray happily ever after in a very specific way and force
both characters and real people to conform to it, stating that this is the one
and only way to be happy. Others still form an awful combination of these two
extremes, acknowledging the realities that not everyone gets to be happy, and
often framing those who end up unhappily ever after as not having conformed to
the accept definition of normalcy and happiness – this standard usually being
one that involves a romantic/sexual relationship, children, or other metrics considered
to be “normal.”
I want to make it perfectly clear that hoping for happiness
– either in real life or for a character – is not stupid or naïve, nor is it
inherently bad to hope it’s tied to romance, marriage, children, etc. In fact, I’ve
enjoyed many stories with such endings or have written stories like that
myself. The problem is not with the notion of “happily ever after” as a
romantic or romanticized thing; rather, the problem exists when we’re forced to
accept these things in our own life, even if we may not want to. By assuming
that all people experience happiness the same way and that only these things
alone will lead to a happy ending, I think media and real people alike are
actually devaluing these concepts. But I’m convinced we don’t have to accept
these definitions. In fact, we can restructure and redefine them in ways that
bring more happiness for all. And so in this, my last “Redefining” post of the
year, I’d like to take a look at this notion of the supposed happy ending, deep
diving into media’s interpretation of “happily ever after,” and speculate how
the concept might be portrayed differently.
What Is “Happily
Ever After?”
As with other “Redefining” posts, I think it’s important to
ask ourselves what this concept really means. Stories have a set and
identifiable end point and thus they can have “happy endings”; however, real
life is far harder to quantify in that manner. While all of us will eventually
experience an end, we can’t exactly predict when or how that will come about,
so we can’t exactly aspire to traditional concepts of happy endings in our own
reality. This is why I think the concept of “happily ever after” has such
appeal and has worked its way into our psyches. While it’s
difficult to say what kind of ending we’ll face, we can all say we’d like to
live the rest of our lives happily up until that undefinable end. And there’s
nothing wrong with that – in fact, I think it makes a lot of sense to hope that
our lives are overall happy, even though we know we of course cannot be happy
all the time.
However, when it comes to the notion of “happily ever after”
and happy endings in media, I find it frustrating that our culture seems to
lock itself into an “all or nothing” mentality. For instance, there’s been a
recent trend of stories about characters whose tragic lives lead to endings of
violence, heartbreak, or misery. I’m not necessarily against such stories and
think great emotional storytelling can be found through these plots - one of my
favorite stories ever is the musical-turned-movie Sweeney Todd, the grim
tale about a man on a bloody revenge quest against the people whose lust and
greed destroyed his life and his family. Set against the equally grim backdrop
of a grey-tinged Victorian England, there is nary a happy ending to be seen in
this story, which quickly goes from musical horror-thriller to tragedy.
This style of storytelling also reminds me of 2019’s Best
Picture winner, Parasite, which tells the story of a family living in
extreme poverty in a sub-basement apartment in South Korea. Through chance,
luck, and manipulation, they slowly install themselves as staff members in the
house of a wealthy family, pretending not to know one another and reaping the
benefits as their employers go blissfully unaware. However, their perfect scheme
soon begins to unravel, and they’re left to confront the ugly reality of what
they’re willing to do to hold onto their newfound good fortune. Like Sweeney
Todd, part of Parasite’s brilliance comes from its jarring yet
perfectly executed heel-turn, going from darkly hilarious at times to
unflinchingly, devastatingly tragic. Parasite shows how fragile our
lives and choices can be, and how we’re sometimes one mistake away from losing
it all. Spoiler alert, no one gets a happy ending here, to the point
where the film’s director said he designed the ending specifically to show
there was very little hope the main characters would ever be able to get out of
the hole they find themselves in.
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| Image description: The family in the film Parasite, enjoying their "good fortune" while it lasts |
In a post about the concept of “happily ever after,” it might seem odd that I’m discussing tragic tales of ruin and misery, but I think they show us an important contrast. In fact, some popular media doesn’t just portray tragic stories with unhappy endings, but even seems to suggest that happy endings are foolish, trite, or misguided. Part of what makes those stories so compelling is the fact that the characters set themselves on paths where there is no chance of a happy ending; but, for as fascinating and emotional as these stories are, they don’t have to be the only option. While I can appreciate their realistic take that many people don’t get a happily ever after or meet a good end, I think it’s a mistake to automatically assume that happy stories are childish or have no value. Again, as I said above, there’s nothing wrong with hoping for a happy life or portraying that in media.
I love the idea of characters who struggle and suffer, but
who eventually “make it,” and whose endurance is used to give hope that some
trials can indeed be overcome. These types of stories show us it’s okay to
portray hardship, but that it’s okay to portray happiness too. With that in
mind, however, I can guarantee that everyone has a different notion of happily
ever after, which will vary depending on their culture, beliefs, values, etc.
For some people, it indeed might involve hitting certain metrics, such as
finding a romantic partner and having children; for others, that might be the
antithesis of a happy ending. Neither opinion is bad or invalid, nor are the
people who want either of those options worthy of condemnation.
But despite these facts, society at large seems adamant that
all people, regardless of their wishes, must hit certain metrics. Again,
these change depending on various factors, and different cultures doubtless
have different metrics, as well as varying levels of what’s considered
“required” versus just “highly suggested.” These issues are far more complex
than I could possibly hope to discuss, and thus my analysis of this issue will
come from my own lens and experiences. In my own society, the notion of happily
ever after seems to include things like romance and children as a requirement,
and these notions translate into media as well. Because of this, when
characters and real people express that their happiness is the exact opposite
of these things, they’re often ignored. This is why I believe this issue needs
to be reexamined – so we can understand that not everyone has the same idea of
happiness, and thus we shouldn’t be so homogenous when we portray these things
in media.
Is It Still A Happy
Ending If It Ruins Characterization?
I believe a large reason why media continues to reproduce
the idea of “happily ever after” being romance-focused is because so many great
stories have ended with romance. Whether it be films like the extremely meta
and delightfully trope-filled The Princess Bride or Disney’s cherished
fairy tale adaptations, romantic stories – and romantic happily ever afters –
are time-honored traditions that couldn’t possibly be replaced, nor should they
be. There’s nothing wrong with portraying love and romance. However, I believe
that when romance comes at the expense of a character’s personality, story arc,
or development, that presents a very large problem indeed. To illustrate why
this can be a slippery slope, I’d like to turn to the British period piece Downton
Abbey. Usually when I discuss this show, I’m discussing Mary Crawley – and
while I’ll indeed mention her later, I first want to discuss another character,
Thomas Barrow.
When the series begins, Thomas is a very antagonistic
character, in large part because he is a closeted gay man at a time when
homosexuality was illegal, leading to a life of secrets and fear. As the series
goes on, he experiences various ups and downs, but eventually improves his
position in the house and even makes a few true friends. In fact, by the conclusion
of the show, Thomas actually seems like he’s in a good place. He eventually
becomes the household butler, and the fact that the young Crawley children take
a shine to him makes it seem likely that perhaps he’ll become their confidant
and protector, just as the butler he replaces was to Lady Mary. I have a lot of
problems with the characterization in later seasons of Downton Abbey,
but when it comes to Thomas, I felt they did a satisfactory job of taking the
character on a journey of growth that led him to a having a real shot at
happiness. A few years after the series ended, a movie was made that even added
an additional layer – a potential chance at love.
However, at the beginning of the film’s 2022 sequel, things
change. Thomas is still the butler at Downton, and it seems as if things are well…
until he confides in one of the other staff members, Mrs. Hughes, that his love
interest from the previous film has decided to marry a woman. Mrs. Hughes
sympathizes, but is also pragmatic, stating it’s not surprising that the other
man would choose to “hide behind appearances that will allow [him] to avoid
persecution and rejection.” When Thomas states that’s not what he wants for
himself, she replies “then you’re a brave man, but you’re also destined to be a
lonely one, unless you’re very fortunate.” In general, I don’t quite understand
why the movie chose to put Thomas into this situation, except perhaps to
highlight his plight in case the audience wasn’t familiar with the show or
didn’t remember the previous movie. Even if they were unable to bring his love
interest back due to the actor being unavailable, they easily could have mentioned
him, implying that he and Thomas are still in touch, even if they must be
discreet.
Even so, as much as I hate them leaving Thomas high and dry
again, the potential exists for telling another moving and meaningful story for
him where that chance at being “very fortunate” is indeed possible or where he
learns that he’s not actually truly alone. Instead, they give Thomas his shot
at happily ever after in what I feel is a very odd manner. When a movie is
filmed at Downton, Thomas meets the film’s lead actor, who eventually becomes
interested in him. He offers Thomas a chance to become the manager of his home
in America, as well as the chance to be his companion, which he accepts; however,
since this opportunity is in America, this necessitates that Thomas leaves
Downton behind, and he does so. The idea of Thomas finally finding love and
acceptance is terrific, but I can’t help but wonder why that had to come at the
expense of everything he’d worked so hard to build at Downton, a place where it
seemed like he could find his own definition of true happiness. In this case,
because Thomas is a major character, I’m sure it’s possible that his actor
wished to give himself an out in case there were future films he wasn’t
available for, but I don’t think it can be chalked up just to that.
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| Image description: Thomas Barrow, as he appears during Downton Abbey the series |
In general, there are a lot of things about Thomas’s character and arc that could be unpacked by someone more qualified to speak on the subject than I am. Is his portrayal as a villain in earlier seasons bad representation for gay communities? Is his behavior in those seasons understandable and inevitable given his circumstances or not? Is a romantic partner for Thomas valuable escapism for gay people watching the series, as well as a tribute to people throughout history who weren’t as lucky? Since I’m not a part of a homosexual identity, I don’t feel I can adequately comment on these things. The only thing I can state with certainty is that, from my own standpoint, I believe very strongly that Thomas deserves to be happy, and if that happiness involves a romance, I’m all for it. But I also believe very strongly that the way this was portrayed in the film feels less like a victory from my point of view and more like a downgrade for the character and his story arc, especially since Downton Abbey has done similar things to other characters.
I understand that people change and want different things in
their life, so perhaps Thomas realized that being at Downton wasn’t his life’s
ambition. I also understand that you can only go so deep in a two-hour film with
other story threads, but again, why was this storyline portrayed in this
particular manner? Does it matter? While Thomas’s example may be somewhat mild,
I believe other examples in Downton Abbey – chiefly Lady Mary herself –
show why these types of portrayals are unfortunate. As mentioned in other posts, the browbeating she’s subjected to as part of being given her “happily
ever after” is actually somewhat unsettling. When she rejects her suitor Henry
Talbot, the entire thing is portrayed as if she is “denying herself happiness,”
and the actions of characters around her seem to imply that this and only
this will make her happy. This is supported when her character reverts back to being sharp-tongued and ready to pick a fight, which is portrayed
as her lashing out because she denied herself happiness and needs to be set
right.
There are numerous things I dislike about this portrayal –
the way Mary’s character growth is stripped away for the sake of convenient
drama, the way she’s then allowed to be harshly criticized for it, the way romance
is portrayed as a magical cure-all for these issues, etc. But the thing I hate
the most is how it sets Mary up to say “no” and then invalidates it,
essentially saying that she doesn’t know what’s best for herself and that only
her friends and family do. While sometimes friends and family may be able to
help us, the notion that they can correct our behavior if they find it unpalatable
is a bit chilling, especially in this context. Media portrayals don’t exist in
a vacuum – they get reproduced and become accepted storytelling conventions, which
influence real world attitudes. Therefore, degrading characters by not honoring
their wishes when it comes to romance has an actual impact on real people who choose
not to prioritize romance.
How Society
Defines “Completeness”
In a 2021 post called “Redefining Love,” I theorized that
most media operates from the assumption that “Romance = Completion.” I’ve discussed
similar topics as well, especially the dangerous assumption that people who are
alone are either being punished for something or are automatically sad, lonely,
cautionary tales. This assumption comes from many sources and long-standing
tropes, but at its core I believe it’s based on the notion that romance is the
highest pinnacle of happiness and fulfilment. This concept is also called
“amatonormativity” – the societal pressure to make romance a priority in your
life, especially when you don’t actually want it. This is not just a problem
for aspec people, but can be an issue for people of various identities; even
allosexual and/or alloromantic people who do eventually want these types of
relationships can fall victim to it throughout their lives.
Media seems to say that “love” and thus “completion” comes
from two main sources – either a romance (often one of a sexual nature) or
having children, or sometimes both. In some instances, this can actually be
well done. For example, one of my favorite endings of a show ever came from the
BBC series The Musketeers, during which all four main characters not
only survived, but were shown to be happy with their significant others, either
having started families or preparing to start them. This ending was dear to me
because it showed that the characters I had come to care about were allowed to
“ride off into the sunset,” so to speak. As such, I have absolutely no problem
with this type of ending, and enjoy both watching it and writing it. But these endings
can have a lot to unpack when it comes to what our society believes about
romance, especially because they’re sometimes out of place.
I think part of what makes the ending of The Musketeers work
so well is the fact that these characters clearly want this type of ending
for themselves. By contrast, there are many instances where this type of ending
doesn’t work because the story never sets up the notion that this is what a
character wants – and sometimes even establishes the opposite. One of my
biggest pet peeves in media is when a character expresses the clear desire that
they do not want children and are ignored or degraded, either by other
characters, the audience, or their own writers. Quite often, when these
characters express these opinions, they’re portrayed as being ultimately wrong,
selfish, or misguided and, much like when characters are non-sexual or
non-romantic, it’s usually treated as something they’ll “grow out of”.
I believe these portrayals both stem from and actively
contribute to a culture where people without children are treated as selfish,
hollow individuals. This is an extremely insulting belief on several levels – whether
for aspec or allosexual people who may choose not to have children, as well as those
who are physically unable to have children. Even when people are not being
directly disapproving of a childless or child-free life, the attitude can persist.
I’ve encountered countless instances in media of all kinds where characters who don’t have and/or don't demonstrably want children are not accepted by the audience, who express the hope that these characters will
“change their minds,” or who simply ignore their wishes entirely by continually
expressing that these characters should have children.
Again, there’s nothing wrong with having children, nor
portraying it in media. In fact, I believe it can be a great way for media to
explore non-romance bonds, as I mentioned in my “Redefining Love” post. If done
well, stories about parents – or surrogate parental figures – and children can
be extremely meaningful. But just like romance, there are many instances where
it’s demanded, sometimes unnecessarily, that characters be seen through this lens.
For instance, when Seven of Nine takes a group of Borg children under her wing in
Star Trek: Voyager, some episodes frame her concern for them as
“maternal instinct,” which always struck me as odd. This comes back around in Star
Trek: Picard when she describes her mentee, Icheb, as being like her son,
and while I don’t necessarily mind this, having Icheb be a son stand-in for
Seven makes it seem like her bond with him can only be described in this
manner, which feels limiting.
There are plenty of other examples where characters aren’t
just expected to take on paternal roles, but are expected to literally become
parents, despite previous objections. In The Big Bang Theory, both Bernadette
and Penny expressly state that they don’t want children, yet both have children
or are set to have children by the time the series ends. In the spin-off series
Young Sheldon –a prequel narrated by Sheldon Cooper – we are often given
insights into post-series events, including the fact that Sheldon eventually
has children too, despite several seasons of not even being interested in sex
or romance. Yes, people’s minds can change about all these things; however, when
this is coupled with the notion that these choices alone will make people happy
or that this should always be the desired outcome of their life’s story, it
becomes troubling.
Turning back to Downton Abbey, the show has a habit
of allowing nearly every pairing to have children, even when it has no bearing
on the story. For instance, in the beginning of the 2022 film, Tom Branson
remarries years after the death of his first wife, with whom he had a daughter;
by the end of the film an unspecified time later, he and his new wife are shown briefly with a baby. This also happens to Mary at the end of the series where, after marrying
Henry, she becomes pregnant soon after. While some of the child characters are
important, many of these later additions are barely even mentioned, so it begs
the question of why they were needed in the first place. It’s almost as if we
can’t assume these characters are truly happy unless they’re in a romantic relationship
and have children with that partner.
Can We All Live
Happily Ever After?
So what does all this say to those of us who want neither a
romance nor children? What does that say about our avenues for happiness? At
times, it feels like media has very little to say on that subject, or if it
does, it paints a picture for the future that is anything but rosy. When asking
the question of how someone like me can find happiness, the answer media seems
interested in giving is simple: you don’t. As stated before, too often
media seems to portray people who don’t take the traditional "happily ever after" path as doomed for failure or misery. This notion is very short-sighted and
completely wrong, ignoring the myriad of ways people can be happy and where
those sources of happiness can arise.
I talk on the blog constantly about better aspec
representation and representation in general, allowing characters who don’t
want sex and/or romance in their lives to be treated as valid and for the other
relationships in their life to be allowed to flourish. By allowing these
characters to have their own happy endings – whatever that might be to them –
it may go a long way towards erasing the idea that a happy ending can only be
one thing. In previous posts, I discussed seeing the Pixar film Brave
for the first time and bursting into tears when Merida did not have a romantic relationship.
These types of endings have become more common for Disney characters lately,
and are proof that characters can still be fulfilled without romantic
relationships. I’d like to see more stories like this across all mediums, where
we can assume that characters can thrive outside of the standard metrics.
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| Image description: The final scene of Brave, with Merida and her mother |
There are likewise things in real life to help with this issue, in fan communities and beyond. I think it would go a long way if fans began to realize that a character who is non-romantic, non-sexual, and/or child-free by choice is not a bad thing, but may actually be a valuable bit of representation to someone; thus, if you do conceptualize this character as eventually having relationships and even children, it’s important to be respectful of those who don’t or to content creators who write in that manner. Additionally, just like it’s important to respect people who are non-romantic and/or non-sexual, I believe it’s important to understand that people may have a variety of reasons why they don’t have children – whether they don’t want them right now, can’t have them at all, or simply don’t like children. As mentioned earlier, there is a societal tendency to assume that people who don’t want children are freakish, as well as a tendency to not understand that some people who can’t have children may be deeply affected by dismissive questions or assumptions.
I think it’s important to remember not everyone has the same
life or thinks the same way. In these cases, being an ally could be as simple
as honoring someone’s choice to call themselves a “pet parent” or not
dismissing someone’s life or struggles as “less than” simply because they aren’t
on the same path as you. We’re all seeking our own “happily ever after,”
whatever that may be. For some of us, that may look like a vertical climb,
thanks to societal expectations, peer pressure, and media norms; some of us may
wonder if we’ll ever find it, or if our destiny will be one of trying to reach
standards we ourselves have to map out, rather than ones that society has defined
parameters for. None of that is easy. In my own experience, it can be depressing,
exhausting, and isolating. Therefore, a little kindness to those of us who are
in search of our own happy ending may go a long way to helping us feel less
like the villains of someone else’s story and more like the heroes of our own.
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