There is a bizarre, miniscule, silly cross section of culture that doesn’t get nearly enough attention, and that is across-the-pond teen romcoms that hinge on the dichotomy between Brits and Americans.
There’s more of these than you think: Mary-Kate and Ashley’s Winning London, What a Girl Wants starring Amanda Bynes, Wild Child, even The Parent Trap roughly fits the mold. And as crude as the comparisons are – all Brits are cold and unspeakably posh, all Americans are rowdy hicks – I lap them up every single time. Red, White and Royal Blue is no different.
The Prime Video film, based on the book by Casey McQuiston and adapted and directed by the playwright and screenwrighter Matthew Lopez (The Inheritance) for his feature film directorial debut, is a teen romcom for the ages, set to be played at sleepovers for years to come (though perhaps this one will be saved for once the parents have gone to bed).
It follows the story of a British prince, the “spare” Prince Henry (Harry comparisons stop there, thankfully), played by Nicholas Galitzine, and the son of the American president, Alex Claremont-Diaz (Taylor Zakhar Perez), who fall in love despite initially despising each other.
It is a classic tale of enemies-to-lovers, with all the fluff and saturation-heavy colour grading you’d expect from a Netflix teen movie, à la The Kissing Booth or To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before.
Of course, their love affair is not simple – it’s complicated by their roles in society, as well as the trademark movie trope of British people and Americans treating each other like aliens. Their stunted interactions are at first taken as rudeness on both sides, leading to a dramatic tussle and the demise of a 70-grand royal wedding cake. But the two eventually break each other down, revealing their affections and beginning a smutty, secretive relationship that can never be revealed (obviously, it is eventually revealed).
The sex scenes are a genuine highlight of Red, White and Royal Blue. Whether it’s thanks to a killer intimacy coordinator or the deftness of a gay, male director, they have the hallmarks of those sex scenes that start conversations, stir loins and somehow make their way illegally onto YouTube at some point. They are almost on another level to the rest of the film, which is delightful trash, but elevates itself with its Normal People-esque, delicate, intimate moments.
The plot is relatively predictable, so you do just go through the motions, like with most romcoms, but it’s the leads’ chemistry that makes Red, White and Royal Blue so watchable. Lopez must have known that one fake-looking kiss could ruin this movie, and, mercifully, none made it to screen – every touch, kiss and… other act is as believable as it is intense, which makes it sing. The fact that both actors are despicably attractive is also not unhelpful.
Other highlights come in the form of the supporting characters, especially Uma Thurman, who plays a Southern American, working class, female president, in a sort of unaddressed utopia where both of the major world leaders (Thurman and the British Prime Minister, played by Sharon D. Clarke) are women, and one is a woman of colour. Alex’s best friend Nora, played by Rachel Hilson, is also a scene stealer, and helps lend a degree of authenticity when the film gets a little too bubblegum-pop-teen-drama-ish.
Red, White and Royal Blue is a welcome arrival in a time where we’re relatively lacking in romcoms, and it will mean the world to queer teenagers everywhere – though I have no doubt it will be voraciously gobbled up by straight and LGBTQ+ teens alike. Feast, my pretties.
