Written by Morgan Forbes; edited by Madison Challis
At surface level, the After series, based on Anna Todd’s 2012 Wattpad fanfiction, looks like nothing special. In fact, it could be mistaken for a great deal of poorly written chick-flicks. It follows the main character, Tessa, who lives a sheltered, rather ordinary life under the watchful eye of her controlling mother, and who is mostly content with the relationship she’s had with her boyfriend, Trevor(?), throughout their formative school years. She’s the certified Good Girl protagonist, a common character trope in many 2000s/2010s YA romances, and she follows all the predictable stereotypes: she doesn’t party, she doesn’t swear, and she has a perfect future awaiting her, which she believes to be bulletproof. When she moves away for college, however, she is given a new lease of life by “irresistible” bad boy Hardin, who’s clad in all black and a scattering of tattoos. We’ve seen this story a thousand times before; it’s predictable, unrealistic, and ultimately just a bit of cheap entertainment we can play in the background and not think twice about when it’s over. Unfortunately, there are some issues that separate After from the rest of them, and they go beyond plot holes and bad acting.
The obvious predicaments this saga deals with are the issues within Hardin and Tessa’s relationship. Hardin isn’t a good person; he’s manipulative, aggressive, and emotionally abusive. He’s also got a lot of trauma to work through, though Tessa, admittedly, shares this burden in her own life. Their trauma bonding doesn’t make for a safe space within the intensity of their partnership, and creates a level of co-dependency that isn’t healthy. The novel contains some ridiculous content in defence of the pair’s toxic relationship, boasting lines like: “I feel as though I am ice and he is fire. We are so completely different, yet the same.” Some elements of cheesiness remain on screen, but it’s excusable; melodrama isn’t a crime. However, there are some more concerning quotes in the mix, mostly thrown in from Hardin, such as: “Don’t you dare try and leave me[…] I can easily find out where you are.” This threat isn’t disguised as romantic protectiveness — rather, it is plainly creepy and controlling. In fact, Hardin’s possessiveness is a recurring problem throughout the series, but Tessa loves Hardin with everything she has. This makes it sad to watch when she repeatedly takes him back, convinced that things will be different the second, third, or tenth time around, no matter how much she gets hurt.
After’s issues would be easier to dismiss if it were apparent how problematic Hardin and Tessa’s relationship really is, but some might not see it that way. As the main target audience is young girls, some viewers may focus too much on the passion within the romance and call it true love. They might seek such all-consuming ideas of ‘love’ in real-life partners, and this is where the films’ influence really becomes dangerous. The author has expressed her thoughts on the examples her books set, stating she ‘never said [their relationship] was healthy’ and ‘real people are so messy’, so it’s clear she isn’t swooning for the characters she’s made up. But there have already been a plethora of similar good-girl/bad-boy relationships that have dominated our screens over the years, ranging from Gossip Girl’s Chuck and Blair to the obvious examples like Fifty Shades’ Christian and Anastasia. They all, naturally, end up together in their questionable idea of happily ever after. In real life borderline or full-on abusive relationships, this is hardly the case.
“People change and mature.” This is a quote from the first instalment of the books, and you’d hope for it to be true — it would make for a more linear storyline, more definitive character arcs. But with Tessa and Hardin, viewers are left frustrated watching the pair go round in circles; fight, break up, kiss, make up, and repeat. The series is set to release its fifth film this year, and you can bet it will be the same idea. This blatant predictability is fine for a single film, then maybe a sequel, but it’s quite remarkable it’s allowed to continue past this point. Most people will agree that if you’ve been fighting with a partner so intensely for this long, it would be in everyone’s best interest to call it quits. Even Tessa’s friends are begging for it to be done, tired of the drama and forever worried for a person they care deeply about. Some of the side characters’ acting makes for the occasional emotional scene, but this is quickly overshadowed by how moody Hardin seems to be all of the time.
After is supposed to be a story of all-consuming desire, intent on sending the message that you should fight for your loved ones in spite of their enormous and sometimes irreparable flaws. Across the four films so far, we are conditioned to believe that Hardin and Tessa’s relationship is worth saving, that somehow this poorly-matched couple should fit together like jigsaw pieces (with the help of a lot of glue and force). But as the end credits roll, we are brought back to reality by the knowledge that these people don’t exist. And after all, it’s just fiction, so what terrible ideas could one take away from it?
References:
Gilliespie, L. (2019) ‘Review: Adapted romance film ‘After’ just as problematic as book’, The Ithacan [online]. 16 April. Available at: https://theithacan.org/life-culture/review-adapted-romance-film-after-just-as-problematic-as-book/ (accessed 01/02/23).
Blair, S. (2022). ‘Everything Wrong With After: An Anti-Love Series’, Bookstr [online]. 14 February. Available at: https://bookstr.com/article/everything-wrong-with-after-an-anti-love-series/ (accessed 01/02/23).
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