If there’s one thing you should know about Lloyd Dobler (John Cusack), it’s this: he’s the man. The subject of 1988’s seminal romantic comedy Say Anything…, he practices kickboxing (“the sport of the future”), he supports his sister and her child in the absence of their parents, and most importantly, he’s a romantic. When asked at a party how he manages to ask out class valedictorian Diane Court (Ione Skye), he remarks “I’m Lloyd Dobler,” and it doesn’t even come off as pompous. It just makes sense — he’s charming, interesting, and sensitive.
If there’s one thing you should know about Alex Malmquist (Cooper Raiff), it’s this: he’s definitely not the man. The subject of 2020’s underrated indie comedy drama Shithouse, Alex’s struggle is painfully relatable to any number of people in their freshman year of college: dealing with a roommate you don’t really like, not having any friends, and feeling awkward at parties. Despite their seeming vast differences, there’s a deep connection between Alex and Lloyd.
Shithouse director/writer/star Cooper Raiff’s impressive directorial debut brings to mind Say Anything… partly because of their protagonists but also because of their similar empathetic sensibilities. Alex’s moony romanticism over the first woman he sleeps with in college can be traced back directly to Lloyd’s own valiant romanticism towards the class valedictorian he barely knows, and both of their sensitivities fuel the plot of both films. Both characters charm their love interests, but more importantly, they treat them with respect and empathy.
Two decades out from Say Anything…, it’s a bit hard to imagine a film like it being made, let alone becoming a hit in 2020 (even without a pandemic, it’s unlikely Shithouse would have had that big of a theatrical audience). The film is as openhearted and oddly resonant as its lead. There are no traditional romantic comedy barriers stopping Lloyd and Diane from getting together beyond their own individual crises of confidence, the same of which can be said of Alex and Maggie (Dylan Gelula) in Shithouse. After a short, impromptu period of courtship between both couples, their crises hit. Both Diane and Maggie’s doubts stem from their fear of the unknown, while Lloyd and Alex go into romantic spirals.
“This girl made me trust myself, man. I was walking around and I was feeling satisfied,” Lloyd says in a post-breakup daze to a group of guy friends who hang out behind a convenience store. This sense of self-trust was also instilled in Alex, as he tearfully says to his mother and sister on the phone:
“I was feeling really, really good and I was feeling really optimistic because I really think if I start trying to throw myself into college and start trying to fully dive in, I think I can start having a better time and maybe I can meet people who are half as cool and half as loving as you guys are.”
Both romantic relationships are seen as a means towards feeling self-actualized, through the act of being open to emotional connection. It’s no coincidence both films focus on the bewildering time period between high school and college, when people usually attempt to carve out their own identity.
Both lament their romantic troubles by wallowing in self-pity (“I gave her my heart, she gave me a pen” Lloyd moans memorably), which contrasts with the other men in their lives. Alex’s roommate Sam and Lloyd’s friends that hang out in a convenience store alley serve easy paths to soothing the protagonists’ romantic troubles: casual womanizing and cynicism. While these paths are appealing at first, both are ruthlessly satirized with Sam’s clearly problematic binge drinking and Lloyd’s friends insisting that they hang out at a convenience store completely alone without women because of a “conscious choice”. Confronting your problems is clearly the better alternative.
Both Alex and Lloyd eventually earn their happy endings by doing the only decent thing: working to actually understand their prospective romantic partners. Both even attempt to reconcile with their love interests, albeit awkwardly: what could possibly be the 2020 equivalent of playing Peter Gabriel’s “In Your Eyes” on a boombox outside someone’s window if not repeatedly messaging someone on Instagram and similarly getting no response?
Lili Taylor’s character Corey in Say Anything… remarks to Lloyd, after he’s been effectively dumped by Diane and refuses to try to get her back, that “The world is full of guys. Be a man. Don’t be a guy.” It’s this effort to be a “man” and not a “guy” that fuels both films. Shithouse’s climactic scene centers on Maggie’s assertion that Alex is like “the girl from 13 Going On 30” after he confronts her over her attempts to ignore him. What she wrongfully interprets as childish affection is legitimate kindness and concern, spurred by his own selfless affection for her, much like Lloyd’s attempts to reconnect with Diane similarly come out of a place of genuine care. Both are remarkably healthy relationships, the kind of relationship a “man” would foster and not a “guy”, even if it takes some time for both parties to fully get there.
That’s what’s sneakily beautiful about both Say Anything… and Shithouse: both films combine the slightly heightened romanticism one expects from romantic comedies with an astute understanding of the work that goes into making a relationship realistically work. It takes proper communication and a willingness to put oneself out there, which is the central idea in each film. Both Lloyd and Alex can be summed up best by a single line in Say Anything…:“I wanna get hurt!” This statement that defines two young men, separated by three decades, is as remarkable and bracingly sensitive now as it was then.
