Sleeping with the (class) enemy
- Tamara Tica
- Jun 27
- 6 min read
Updated: 15 hours ago
How I Learned To Stop Worrying and Love the Man, or: Francis Fukuyama watches “You’ve Got Mail (1999)”. |
The tried and true romantic comedy formula can famously be boiled down to: Boy meets girl. Boy loses girl. Boy gets girl back. At the turn of the millennium and the cultural and economic peak of American neoliberalism, Nora Ephron dares to ask: what if the formula was upgraded to “Boy meets girl, boy … defeats girl in the free marketplace, boy gets girl back?” The initial setup of You’ve Got Mail is fairly familiar. The film is a contemporary remake of the 1940 classic The Shop Around the Corner, starring James Stewart and Margaret Sullavan, loosely based on the 1937 Miklós László play Parfumerie. The script (also penned by director Ephron, and co-written by her sister Delia Ephron) follows two parallel narratives, both of which are centred on Kathleen Kelly (Meg Ryan) and Joe Fox (Tom Hanks). In their professional lives and in physical reality, they are “rivals”. Kathleen runs a small independent bookstore inherited from her mother, and Joe is the owner of the Fox Books chain, which is opening their flagship superstore next door to Kathleen’s store, eventually putting her entirely out of business. In parallel, in the cyber world of AOL, they are anonymous pen pals who slowly fall in love through consistent messaging. Throughout the film, they share intimate details about their lives without revealing their identities, therefore creating the main conflict of the film. They would never fall in love if they knew the other’s real identity. Or would they? The film suggests that it doesn’t really matter. The reality of their class positions is not in any way an obstacle. This interplay is actually where the chemistry, the witty banter and ultimately, the romance of the film resides. Depicting what Megan Day's 2020 Jacobin essay on the film aptly calls the "romance of American Clintonism," “You’ve Got Mail” is a perfect encapsulation of a time where the complete triumph of the neoliberal world order and neoliberalism as the predominant ideology was considered all but a foregone conclusion. In this film, there are absolutely no alternatives. In the famous words of Francis Fukuyama, the author of “The End of History”:
The triumph of the West, of the Western idea, is evident first of all in the total exhaustion of viable systematic alternatives to Western liberalism. (p. 3)." Or, as British philosopher Mark Fisher puts it concisely in his 2009 book “Capitalist Realism”, in a quote attributed to Fredric Jameson and Slavoj Žižek:
What this film offers instead is a vision of the world that is not only post-political but anti-political in its entirety. The most telling aspect of the narrative is the way it glosses over the central conflict as a barely consequential difference of opinion. Every character who is principled in their convictions is eventually either proven to be wrong or led to abandon those convictions in the face of “true love”. For example, Kathleen's partner in the first half of the film, leftist writer Frank (Greg Kinnear), says that he could not be with someone who did not take politics seriously, after Kathleen admits she skipped the latest mayoral election vote for a manicure. He is later, conveniently, revealed to have fallen in love with a Republican woman. Frank initially functions as Kathleen's ethical foil. When he is eventually revealed to be a hypocrite, this further serves to reinforce Kathleen's decision to live a life where conviction plays no role, even when those convictions stem from necessity, concerning material realities rather than abstract beliefs. The film promotes a worldview that is not only anti-political but betrays a deeply defeatist and cynical understanding of social life. The script finds humor in the very idea that politics, economics, or their material consequences could (or should) in any way interfere with romance. After Kathleen is left unemployed thanks to her very suitor, Joe's editor girlfriend Patricia (Parker Posey), who is otherwise depicted in what is supposed to be understood as a negative light, is the only person who thinks to help her find work. Joe, however, actively discourages her from doing so, saying that Kathleen "lacks killer instinct." This is presented as a legitimate gripe and a serious character flaw, despite the fact that Kathleen is the woman he claims to be falling in love with. Not to be caught dead with an ounce of self-awareness, Joe also describes the woman he personally put out of business as "too susceptible." Joe doesn’t seem to feel any guilt or responsibility for her predicament because, within the logic of neoliberal capitalism, Kathleen lost and Joe won. This outcome is just how life works, and has nothing to do with him. Corporate efficiency triumphs over the romantic communitarianism of mom and pop shops. Whoever wins in the free market is presumed to be in the right. The loser simply was not ruthless enough. Kathleen does put up a fight, refusing to immediately surrender to competition. It is, of course, all in vain. Yet the film suggests that the outcome was justified: ultimately, David had a fair chance against Goliath, and an independent bookstore is competing on equal terms with a corporate conglomerate intent on weaponizing its upper hand to reshape an entire neighbourhood for profit, leaving all its enemies in the dust. In Joe's words:
To that, Kathleen replies:
Yet apparently, it was not personal enough, because she ultimately changes her mind with remarkable ease. You can’t argue with true love, assisted by some old-school manipulation. Joe insists on leveraging all and any ways, big or small, in which the power dynamic of their relationship tilts in his favor. He is the only one of the duo who knows the truth about their online relationship and uses this knowledge to ensure the story ends his way. The story fancies itself to be an enemies-to-lovers narrative, if the titular enemy were exposed as the class enemy, and the protagonist inexplicably fell in love with them regardless, against all odds. A quarter of a century after You’ve Got Mail, the global culture is in a different place, both in our relationships to capitalism, as well as romantic comedies, widely considered to be waning in popularity. Writers from all walks of life are wondering what we’re losing when the culture loses its interest in romantic life, arguing in favor of a reimagining of the genre, or even gleefully rejoicing at its demise. A lot of ink has been spilled dissecting the rom-coms’ often tenuous relationship with reality, as well as its over reliance on sexist tropes and centuries of patriarchal messaging (or even indoctrination) in media. However, the real explanation might actually be found in the works of Fukuyama himself: p. 17
In a twist that Fukuyama predicted, despite his utter and unshakeable trust in neoliberalism, the nostalgia for a time where history, or at least politics existed, has lead to a change in the predominant paradigm, precipitated by economic crises, and a general disillusionment with capitalism. “You’ve Got Mail” serves as a time capsule, a remnant of time where the status quo was not only the only possible option, but also the most desirable one. In the end of the film, Kathleen forgives Joe quickly and completely, despite his lack of remorse for the bankrupting, or the lying. After all, at the end of history there is no morality outside market outcomes. There are only winners and losers. Joe is a winner. What we are seemingly more aware of today, is that in neoliberal capitalism, the house always wins. Particularly when the game is already rigged. As a true relic of its time, You've Got Mail considers the age-old adage, "If you can't beat them, join them," and takes it a step further: If you can't beat The Man, try marrying him. References:
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