Words: Lily Fisher (she/her)
‘You can’t outrun yourself. Not your history, not your fears, not the parts of yourself you’re worried are wrong.’
‘For me, traveling is about wandering, meeting people you don’t expect, doing things you’ve never done.’ – Poppy.
Meet Poppy Wright. She’s the extroverted, adventurous female protagonist in Emily Henry’s friends-to-lovers romance novel People We Meet on Vacation. She’s living her dream life as a travel journalist in New York City, vacationing for free with her best friend and love interest Alex Nilsen. She represents every girl who’s ever felt like she’s too much, like her dreams are too big. Poppy adores her carefree lifestyle, adopting new personas wherever she goes. So, naturally, when the film ends with her giving up her career to work from home in artificial domestic bliss, it feels like a cheap, unsatisfying ending.
The new film seems to be the first of many adaptations for popular romance novels, with 5 of Henry’s own having been adapted. As a massive rom-com lover, I’m hoping this era comes close to the early 2000s surge of rom-coms, How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days and She’s the Man being a few of my favourites. Many of these films feature a fierce, independent female protagonist pursuing her ambitions, and a male love interest empowering her ambition-wise and giving her a romantic, happy ending. A generation of girls – me included – grew up seeing women follow their football or journalistic ambitions alongside romance, instead of love being their sole purpose.
However, the narrative arc that People We Meet on Vacation presents is the opposite. By not fully diving into Poppy’s motivation to initiate a career change, it snubs her character journey and reduces her story to centre around her romance, creating a damaging narrative for young girls watching love overshadow her career. Many girls feel seen by Poppy’s unapologetically vibrant personality, so only following her romantic journey feels lackluster, and it’s a shame that her development is rushed in the film adaptation.
‘You can’t outrun yourself. Not your history, not your fears, not the parts of yourself you’re worried are wrong.’ – Poppy.
In the film, we meet Poppy experiencing writer’s block at her big-city job in NYC. Despite living many people’s dream by getting to travel for free, she feels unfulfilled – she’s missing something. The film flits between the present and past summers, and as an audience we grow invested in the wild adventures Poppy and Alex fall into together. Poppy’s love for travel is evident. However, her story arcs as she discovers her loneliness travelling without Alex after a brutal disagreement. No more calling him when her adventure twists, or when she’s too ill to look after herself. Could she love Alex?
But, between past adventures and present romantic tension, the film rushes her life-changing decision. One significant change from the book to the film is the time she takes before quitting her job. In the book, she goes to therapy, focuses on herself, and upon encountering her high school bully and first kiss, she realises why she feels unfulfilled in her current job: it’s the people she meets that make travel so special. Extensive travel is no longer her dream – she uses it to disguise herself, worrying she’s “too much” without her various personas. Although a part of her dreams of being with Alex, she keeps him at arm’s length as her “vacation friend”. But, Alex shows her that staying put allows people to love her for who she is, and this wholesome revelation explains her choice to settle down. Ultimately, Poppy’s character arcs into becoming more comfortable with herself.
‘I’m not afraid anymore. I’m ready to be happy.’ – Poppy.
In the film, the abrupt lifestyle change feels less intentional and more of a sacrifice. The narrative rushes from falling out with Alex, to kissing in the rain, to breaking up before they get together, to that mandatory running after him through their hometown. The realisation that she is unhappy and why is unclear, only showing the audience her sudden career change to writing from home, sausage dog in tow. By including less of her thought process, the film portrays her career change as impulsive, less for her sake and more for Alex’s.
By the film’s end, she’s left with just the souvenirs of her travels. Both physical mementos like a pine sculpture from Vancouver Island – their first trip together – and memories of first kisses and midnight dancing, blue wigs, and lost clothes. Poppy’s souvenirs represent her attempts to cling onto moments that slip away too quickly, her fear of forgetting clashing with her fear to stay. Ultimately, quitting travel journalism was the right decision for her as she finally feels comfortable in her own skin. As long as romance films don’t diminish female protagonists and their ambitions, both choosing to settle down like Poppy, or pursue a career like Andy Anderson, should be represented in a healthy way on screen.
