By Fergus Henderson. A lot of people are very worried about the future of romance. They worry that true connection is impossible, too slow and time consuming. The phone in your pocket contains the abstracted faces of a million potential partners. What a venal, superficial world we live in, say those pearl clutching worriers. Along comes Electric Love, the latest from LA up and comer Aaron Fradkin, to remind us that there’s no need to worry.
In an age of alarmist entertainments like Black Mirror and Unfriended which deliver techno-paranoid nightmares to a self-flagellating audience, a romantic comedy like Electric Love is a welcome relief. Sure, it may land on the safe conclusion that taking some time away from our screens to have a proper conversation is the only way to foster a good connection, but it also knows that those screens are just tools that help us reach those moments of connection.
In an LA that is bathed in beautiful neon hues straight out of Risky Business and set to a swooning 80s synth soundtrack, we meet two young aspiring creatives, Adam (Zachary Mooren) and Emma (Mia Serafino). Everybody worth making a film about in LA is aspiring, after all. They are both funny, thoughtful, sensitive people, navigating the disappointments of dating app romance.
Fradkin uses the kinetic exuberance of the 80s aesthetic to maximum effect, propelling Adam and Emma individually through date after terrible date with a series of big-headed blowhards and humourless waifs in an energetic, funny sequence that will ring true for many. He shows great editing flare here and throughout.
Finally, naturally, they match with each other. Technological sparks fly as they text jokes like Harry and Sally through the phone. When they meet up it plays like a contemporary Before Sunrise, the film and the viewer riding a total high as the clear chemistry between Mooren and Serafino fills each frame with promise and joy. But it cannot last forever.
Doubt enters the picture as their past entanglements and paranoias start to eat away at the romance that had seemed so total the night before. Fradkin, with his whip-smart and naturalistic script, does not point the finger at the phone here, at least not completely.
Adam and Emma are both well-defined characters who don’t just play out a luddite parable in which their technology destroys them. They both have their reasons for doubting, their own histories. Emma might look through Adam’s close friend Stef’s Instagram, looking for clues of past romance. When you find out about her childhood, you understand why. And, of course, this is a romantic comedy. Love will prevail.
This is the film’s biggest strength, its belief in its characters. It shows in both the main story and all the side plots, which in their own way also spell out the need for proper face-to-face communication and trust, and the power of goodness and love.
And the side plots are their own series of heart-warming treats. Adam’s flatmate Dave (Byrne Owens) is growing worried that his long distance girlfriend is losing interest in him. Friend Greg (Matt Bush) is having no luck finding the connection he wants on Grindr. Emma’s podcasting flatmate Charlotte (Misha Reeves) is being trolled by someone who disagrees with her pro-polyamory stance. Each story follows a smart, tech-savvy arc to romantic actualisation.
Both the well-observed script and the uniformly strong and believable performances make one thing clear: technology is simply facilitating their journeys. If anything, it makes their expression and self-realisation more streamlined and clear. Thank God a filmmaker has finally taken this stance. It seems abundantly obvious and yet apparently it is always preferable to make a film that plays to our most noxious, self-loathing ideas of technology.
Electric Love is a truly romantic, sexy film. Shane Collins’ gorgeous photography creates a vibrant, sensuous world, and Fradkin fills it with beautiful, funny, real characters. It believes in the importance of communication and decency but never falls into sentimentality. It is a joy to experience, and lingers deep in the mind, leaving a warm afterglow. Just like love.
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