Something is in the air in the movie world, and it isn’t love. For decades, romantic comedies were a Hollywood staple, drawing audiences in to laugh, cry, and believe, even just for a couple hours, that love could conquer all. When Harry Met Sally, How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, Sleepless in Seattle, Love Actually; these movies did more than just entertain, they contributed to a genre of classics that is becoming relatively historic. 

There’s something about classic rom-coms that make us feel overwhelmingly comforted and happy. Viewers are transported to a dream-like reality: charming bookstores, cozy cafes, and picturesque city streets. Many of the aforementioned iconic rom-coms emerged in the 80s, 90s, and early 00s before the era of smartphones and social media, before the digital age reshaped meet-cutes from run-ins at grocery stores to matches on dating apps. Seeing as peak romance seemed to exist in movies at this time, was love somehow easier, or was life simply better before technology took over our lives? This is a question I find myself returning to often, along with a certain nostalgia for a lifestyle I never experienced. I think this is partly why that era of rom-coms is so widely loved. In many ways, they are windows into a version of life that no longer feels easily accessible. Whether or not the past was truly more romantic, these films offered audiences a vision of connection that felt warm, hopeful, and deeply human — qualities becoming increasingly rare in today’s cinematic landscape.

In contrast, recent additions to the romantic comedy genre have been wiped of this dreamy quality. Films like Anyone but You and Ticket to Paradise did achieve streaming popularity, yet few have embedded themselves into our long-term cultural memory in the way that earlier films did. Today’s romance movies often lean into the drama of it all, emphasizing emotional conflict, messy “situationships,” or the toxicity of modern dating rather than the hopeful escapism that once defined the genre. Visually, many share the now-familiar “Netflix lighting” making movies feel interchangeable and somewhat bland, contributing to the sense that these films lack the sparkle they once were admired for. 

These changes in production might reflect a change in audience preferences, indicating perhaps that people find cynicism more entertaining than romance itself. However, even more compelling is the question of whether these films simply reflect the realities of modern dating, where traditional grand gestures such as sending flowers in the mail, running through a city to confess love, or showing up unannounced to express one’s romantic feelings have become increasingly rare; or whether the media we consume is quietly steering audiences away from imagining romance in these ways at all. 

Theatrical rom-com releases have declined significantly, in part because the genre typically falls into the mid-budget category ($5-50 million) that studios now consider financially risky compared to blockbuster franchises. As fewer of these films are produced and promoted, their cultural influence also diminishes. What are the effects of this decline?

Rom-coms help keep classic romance alive and have historically functioned as social examples for courtship, modeling communication, vulnerability, and intentional actions. Audiences may therefore lose exposure to the emotional openness and thoughtful gestures that are the backbone of a healthy relationship. These are especially important for youth to internalise, as they lack romantic experience at a young age and might require models of healthy relationships outside of their immediate families. 

More simply, rom-coms are fun to watch. They’re the perfect thing to wind down to after a stressful day at school or work. While psychologically compelling romantic dramas can be entertaining at times, they just do not produce the same warm, cozy feeling. 

Psychological research on romantic media suggests that its influence is complex. Some scholars argue that romance films can reinforce unhealthy expectations, encouraging the belief that individuals are “incomplete” without a partner and even reinforcing stigma around being single. Others argue that romance movies are sometimes overly unrealistic, accelerating processes of emotional intimacy that in reality take much longer to develop or solving deeply-rooted problems that only years of therapy can fix. Melanie Maimon, a professor of psychology at Bryant University, explains that films tend to emphasize passionate love, dramatic confessions and intense attractions, while overlooking the quieter forms of love that actually sustain long-term partnerships. Rather than dramatics, long-lasting relationships are built instead on companionate love, defined by friendship, emotional support, and shared routines. Since these aspects of companionship are not deemed as cinematically interesting as passionate love and grand gestures are, audiences are often left with an incomplete picture of how relationships actually endure. 

At the same time, other research highlights the constructive potential of romantic storytelling. Many rom-com conflicts arise from miscommunication, showing how failure to properly express feelings can block connection and emphasizing how successful relationships require vulnerability. These movies have also historically gotten humans through difficult times, thriving during crises like the Great Depression and wartime as a reliable form of escapist entertainment. Romantic films act both as a key to a transportive world of relatable characters with easily identifiable struggles, and as a warm security blanket we can wrap ourselves in when we need comfort and/or a laugh. 

Rom-coms once gave audiences a place to believe in grand gestures, awkward meet-cutes, and the possibility that love may be just around the corner. Today, as the genre grows quieter, perhaps the real question is not whether the rom-com is dying, but whether we are ready to lose the kinds of stories that once reminded us, albeit a little cheesily, that love could be all we need. 

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When we think of a successful night out, our minds each conjure a different image. It could be dancing at a club with our friends, barhopping, going to a house party, listening to live music — the list is endless. One person’s heaven could easily be another person’s hell, and this differentiation is not entirely random. Social groups often share similarities in what they would like a night out to look like, which usually depends on gender, sexuality, and socioeconomic class. 

In order to better understand the going out culture here at McGill, I conducted a small survey. The respondents were students of varying genders, sexualities, and university years. 

The question I found to be the most important and interesting was “What makes a night out feel successful for you?” Whether we know it or not, we all have some kind of objective in mind when getting ready to go out. In my survey, I provided the following options for this question:

• Having fun with friends
• Meeting new people
• Drinking/partying
• Romantic/sexual encounters
• Other 

Unsurprisingly, nearly every survey respondent checked the box “Having fun with friends”, regardless of gender, sexuality, or year. This seems to be the most powerful motivating factor for university students to go out, who, justifiably, want to make memories with their peers. “Drinking/partying” was the next most commonly checked box, followed by “Meeting new people”, and in last place “Romantic/sexual encounters.” 

Not all results were so obvious, however. When asked how far they were willing to travel on a night out, 40% of respondents answered either 20-30 minutes or 30+ minutes. This surprised me, because I assumed fewer students would be willing to travel farther, opting to stay within a close radius to home. Most of us do not have cars, so we rely on either Uber or the Metro if we want to go further than destinations within our walkable bubble. If students are willing to travel lengthy amounts of time to go out, what does this say about the destinations close to us? 

Additionally, around 30% of respondents indicated spending between $30-40, $40-50, and $50+ on a night out. This was on the higher end of what I expected, but aligns with the often costly prices of drinks and cover fees. Interestingly, around half of the people who indicated that they spent these higher amounts said they go out strictly once a week, while the other half said they go out more than three times a week.

Other survey questions included preferences about going out locations (options included “club,” “bar,” “house party,” “restaurant,” and “other”), days of the week one typically goes out, and the size of the “going out” group. 

From what I have experienced and observed at university, “girls’ nights out” can take on many forms. They often start with getting ready together, playing music, taking photos, having a “pregame”, and then heading out, whether that’s to dance at clubs, socialize in bars, restaurants, or even jazz clubs. While the main focus is to have fun together, about a quarter of female respondents in my survey expressed that a romantic partner is part of what makes a night successful for them. 

Male respondents followed a similar pattern, with roughly a fifth noting the same about leaving the night with a romantic partner. Their ideal nights typically started by having drinks at home with friends before going out to a bar, pub, or house party. Few men described clubbing as their preference, though multiple admitted that they would go if their friends were heading there. While my survey did contain an option for other genders, all my respondents selected the options of either male or female, which is why I have no conclusive evidence on non-binary groups.

Additionally in my survey, when asked, “Do you ever feel social pressures (to drink, hook up, spend money) on a night out?” the majority of respondents answered with “yes” or “sometimes”. These pressures stem from the clashing of different aforementioned goals one has when going out. One person may head out simply to have fun with friends, while another may be hoping to meet a romantic/sexual partner. It’s not unusual for these two people to cross paths. While this may cause no issue, it could also potentially derail the evening of either party, leading to hurt feelings, disappointment, or awkwardness. This is when the politics of a night out come to surface. Yet, even when a night takes a sour turn, I have found that when around the right group of people, bad moments almost always turn into good memories. 

Over the past couple of years, I have had the time to learn what I like most in my nights out and curate them accordingly. Going out my first year at McGill was driven by excitement, fresh energy, and, for the most part, clubs. My friends and I frequented nightclubs like Cafe Campus and Pow Pow, following pregames consisting of packed rooms, laughter, spilled drinks, and open windows. These nights made for countless amazing memories, but I always found that my favourite parts actually happened while getting ready, when we would all be crammed in our little dorm rooms taking pictures on our digital cameras, and talking about our goals for the night while being caught up in the glow of our friendship.

This year, there is a different feeling in the air, one that I like even better. Weekends are now usually spent at house parties, and the pre-club magic I used to cherish has become the main event. When my friends and I do want the night to last, we often go out to a pub like McKibbins that lets us socialize, listen to live music, and dance. There is truly nothing like a night out with the girls, and every day I am thankful for how lucky I am to have found such good souls to surround myself with. 

No matter who you are or what a fun night looks like to you, the most important part of social life in university is finding your people. While night out opinions may differ, there will always be a group out there waiting to welcome you. Upon reflection, the politics of a night out matter far less than the people beside you at the nightclub, pub, house party, or restaurant table. In the end, the moments shared are what make the night worth remembering.

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Binge-watching is defined by Merriam-Webster as, “watching multiple episodes of television in rapid succession.” The practice has become an increasingly common pastime in recent years, which is unsurprising given that every new show seems to be more addictive than the last.

However, this hasn’t always been the case. In fact, binge-watching is a relatively recent behavioural phenomenon — only seen commonly in the public since around 2013, when streaming services like Netflix boomed in popularity. Suddenly, people no longer needed to wait a week for the next episode or purchase individual box sets of DVDs, they could simply access them on these streaming sites packed with endless hours of entertainment. It was revolutionary for both the TV industry and its watchers. The COVID-19 pandemic only further increased streaming popularity, as people were suddenly stuck at home with ample amounts of time and fewer ways to spend it. According to the National Library of Medicine, over 70 per cent of television watchers today consider binge-watching as normal practice.

So, why do we do it? Why is it so easy to be pulled in for hours to a good show? Well, when we watch TV, it is usually for enjoyment. After a long day of classes or work, our brains crave a break, and television provides us with instant gratification. When we are doing something that we enjoy, our brains release a chemical called dopamine, which promotes pleasure and happiness. This dopamine release makes us feel good and creates a rush similar to that of a drug, but on a smaller scale. That feeling is addictive, and our brains will crave more dopamine in order to keep feeling pleasure; a craving which can often be satiated by watching another episode.

That said, there is more to binge-watching than solely the scientific aspect. The social nature of TV plays a huge role in why people feel the need to binge, a factor that has only been amplified by social media. When new seasons of popular shows come out, chatter on social media inevitably follows. For example, when the third season of The Summer I Turned Pretty began dropping weekly on Prime Video this summer, my Instagram and TikTok soon became flooded with funny or exciting reels related to the show. These videos quickly started online conversations and disputes such as whether people are “Team Jeremiah” or “Team Conrad,” and created a sense of investment in a show that viewers may or may not have even previously watched themselves. I suddenly felt compelled to catch up on the new season so I could understand what people were talking about, and found myself binging four episodes in one evening. Whether fueled by a fear of missing out or a fear of having the plot spoiled for them, people feel the need to catch up on new shows so they can be part of these conversations. However, we must recognize that these conversation never influenced us in the same way before we had access to social media 24/7.

Others use binge-watching to escape reality and transport themselves into a different world for as long as possible. The more time we spend with familiar TV characters, the more we begin to feel like we really know them. These characters start to feel like companions, and we become so invested in their stories that turning off the TV can make us feel lonely. Interestingly enough, binging doesn’t only come with feel-good shows either. Shows that cause more negative feelings like anxiety or fear are often just as addicting, as they produce the same sense of escapism, if not one that is even more intense. This behaviour can even feed on itself, with people watching more in order to soothe the stressful feelings that binging caused in the first place.

Now that we know why this behaviour occurs, it’s important to note the effects it might have on our bodies. While it is often used as a light-hearted term, binge-watching can be more serious than just a casual pastime. Similar to gambling, it can turn into a real behavioural addiction, which are accompanied by a lack of self-control, regret or guilt, and neglect of responsibilities. Additionally, avoiding real-life problems by watching hours of TV can lead to social isolation. This is associated with depression and feelings of loneliness or guilt when the episodes are over. In regard to physical health, it is unsurprising that binge-watching goes hand-in-hand with a sedentary lifestyle, which is one of the most harmful things we can do for our bodies. Sitting and watching television for four hours or more per day can over time increase the risk of cardiovascular disease by 50 per cent compared to those who sit for two hours or less. Inactive sitting might be linked to a 25 per cent higher BMI index in young adults, which can lead to various serious health problems. Finally, binge-watching negatively affects our sleep. After watching hours of TV, our brains struggle to fully shut down, leading to poorer sleep quality, increased fatigue, and insomnia.

These are all very serious mental and physical effects. That being said, it is also important to note that staying up one night and watching a season of your favourite show with friends is not the end of the world. These effects result from repeated behaviour over time, so it is best to be mindful but not to stress too much.

For the reasons above or even for their own benefit, not every show releases all episodes at once on streaming services. Some, like The Summer I Turned Pretty, still follow the classic weekly schedule release in order to combat binge-watching and create suspense leading up to each episode. Similarly, Love Island USA, which captured millions of eyes this summer, released one episode per day, multiple times per week. This method can be very successful as it keeps people engaged in new drama and conversation while giving them something to look forward to. Even the busiest viewers are more likely to set aside an hour a day for a new episode than to commit to watching five in a row.

At its best, binge-watching offers us copious amounts of entertainment, an escape from reality, and a connection to a larger community around the world. At its worst, it can allow us to slip into unhealthy habits that leave us guilty, tired, or isolated. The key is to enjoy our favourite shows in moderation. Whether that means watching one episode per day to unwind or prepping for the occasional weekend marathon, we can keep the joy of television alive without creating a bad habit. After all, television should enhance our lives, not replace them.

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