By CHRIS SURPRENANT
Managing Editor
It’s no secret that romantic comedies in the 21st century are often filled with clichéd, cotton-candy tropes that rot the teeth of the idealistic dreamers who watch them. Boy always meets girl, boy disappoints girl, boy and girl break up, boy and girl make up, and finally boy and girl get married. The beauty of Joseph Gordon-Levitt’s Don Jon is that he removes the saccharine sweetness from the genre, giving viewers Sour Patch Kids instead of Good & Plenty.
Gordon-Levitt’s Jon Martello is the kind of guy who has a girl on each arm and enjoys deciding which one will have the honor of going home with him that night. Jon admits, “There are only a few things I really care about in life: My body. My pad. My ride. My family. My church. My boys. My girls. My porn.” All things considered, it sounds like he has his priorities in order—minus that last one.
You see, Jon is addicted to pornography, so much so that it prevents him from having truly meaningful relationships with any of the multitude of women he meets. In fact, he prefers his fantasies to the real thing.
For the majority of the film, Jon lives in a world where he juggles women and fantasy. First he meets the brassy Barbara Sugarman—a so-called “dime” in Jon’s book—who compels him to meet her family and friends (something Jon never does with his girlfriends), as well as put a hold on sex until it means something to the both of them. Barbara, gamely played by Scarlett Johansson, is an updated “girl next door.” However, she is only half of what Jon needs.
Enter Jon’s middle-aged classmate, Esther (Julianne Moore). Esther is a grieving widow who realizes, thanks to Jon, she can’t keep her grief bottled up in private, and cries in public. She and Jon form an unlikely intimate friendship, teaching Jon that although he must give up part of himself to another person, his other half must also be willing to sacrifice. In other words, sex, and by extension love, is a two-way street.
The film’s emphasis on the give-and-take aspect of relationships is on full, graphic display via Jon’s addiction to pornography. As both Barbara and Esther point out, his love of fantasy allows only Jon fulfillment. He isn’t required to give anything back.
Ultimately, Don Jon is a feminist film, despite the literal focus of the male gaze. Barbara’s character turns out nothing like Jon expects her to be, despite her “dime” status. In fact, she’s not right forJon in any sense. Esther, the older woman who would perhaps ordinarily be looked over Jon, becomes his compass.
The film does not, however, let women off the hook. Jon enjoys cleaning his apartment, but Barbara demands he not speak of vacuuming in front of her because “It’s not sexy.” While Jon certainly must alter his behavior to have a meaningful relationship, he is not defined solely by his muscles and personality. Just because he likes to clean does not make him less of a man as Barbara implies.
While the film’s ending may be unsatisfying to many, Don Jon will certainly leave people talking. My friends and I rarely discuss the meanings of films once we’re out of the theater, but we talked about it the whole way home. How do two people act when they’re in love? Should only one person devote his or herself to the other, body and soul? Or is it a two-way street that requires both parties to lose themselves in each other evenly?
While the film is certainly frank in its discussion of love, sex, and everything in between, it sends a clear message of balance and equality. Each person deserves to be treated and respected as an individual, man or woman. In the vastly over-populated, creatively devoid world of rom-coms, Don Jon isn’t just another one-night stand.
