Rye Lane Reminds Us That Great Romantic Comedies Have Always Prioritized Setting

Something director Raine Allen-Miller understands about London, about most cities really, is that it is a kaleidoscope of areas, both distinct and bleeding into one another. In her feature film debut Rye Lane, London is a mass of bustling neighborhoods, subdivisions that are alive and constantly redefining their boundaries as the city grows up and out. Allen-Miller enacts this with creative camera movements, swiveling around to take in the graffiti-lined streets and wielding a fisheye lens to follow characters wandering between crowded stalls. Rye Lane is being heralded for its simplicity and clarity, a return to form for the romantic comedy, but this belies something more complex which activates the underpinnings of the genre.
Dom and Yas’ love story is contained within this space and time, specific to Peckham and its inner workings. In keeping with this, their relationship thrives in transit–the period spent traversing different boroughs, sacrificed to what I affectionately call “the black hole of time” specific to South London (mostly due to the absence of an underground layout and the resulting bus traffic).
Every good genre film must pay attention to the trappings of their setting, but it is especially relevant for the romantic comedy. There is a particular warmth and relatability that the rom-com audience seeks. Most everyone can relate to the sudden, heady crush that overwhelms Yas and Dom in the space of a day, or the slow-burn, sizzling affection of Harry and Sally–but the sense of relatability must extend to the space they exist in. Making sure the city feels lived in, like a real place that could nourish these characters’ love.
William Wyler’s Roman Holiday is remembered for Audrey Hepburn’s unpracticed charm as Ann and Gregory Peck’s curmudgeonly sweetness as Joe, but the plot itself is convoluted and removed. Wyler uses the near-mystical stature of the city—with its crumbling stone and towering, ornate buildings—to add weight and heft to the feather-lightness of the plot. One of the earliest signs of burgeoning love comes after Ann determinedly steps out onto the cobblestoned streets of Rome, lit by streaming sunlight. Joe suspects Ann’s naivete surpasses that of the average 20-something and follows her. His determination to keep an eye out for her is grounded in a comforting reality, born from someone who is acquainted with the hard-earned awareness of the city’s geography and willing to extend that wisdom with no reciprocation. Over the course of the afternoon, he watches her casually spend money as she remains willingly trapped in a maze of appealing stalls and stands. Their love is born out of mimicking the other’s movements through the city.