This Valentine’s Day, countless people will be snuggling up to watch their favourite romantic films. But not all films are created equal. Sadly, many movies we’ve long celebrated as timeless love stories actually depict deeply problematic relationships – the kind we would be wise to avoid in real life. That’s why this Valentine’s, we’re inviting you to #LookCloser at the films that have shaped your ideas of love and romance.
One of this year’s most anticipated releases is the new adaptation of Emily Brontë’s “Wuthering Heights” (2026), starring Jacob Elordi and Margot Robbie, hitting theatres just before Valentine’s Day. In the weeks leading up to its premiere, it’s been hard to miss the marketing for the film boldly proclaiming it to be “the greatest love story of all time”.
This is not the first time this story has graced our screens, nor is it the first time Cathy and Heathcliff’s love has been placed on a dangerous pedestal. But readers familiar with Emily Brontë’s original 1847 book know that Wuthering Heights was never intended to be a romance.
Equally, when it was first published, the book shocked audiences and was not understood as a love story, but rather a Gothic novel. It presents a relationship built on obsession, emotional co-dependency, and cruelty. Heathcliff’s version of love is largely expressed through rage; he tells Cathy to “drive me mad,” framing emotional destruction as proof of devotion. Cathy’s identity becomes consumed by the relationship, famously exclaiming, “I am Heathcliff!” Their connection does not nurture or sustain them, it destroys them, leaving Cathy physically ill from the emotional strain. Despite this, countless film adaptations have romanticised this toxic dynamic, and the upcoming 2026 film appears to do the same, emphasising the eroticism of a relationship that is both emotionally and physically tumultuous.
Similarly, The Notebook (2004) is often hailed as the ultimate love story, but a closer look reveals a deeply harmful model of romance. Noah and Allie’s relationship is rooted in coercion and emotional pressure. When Allie initially refuses him, Noah threatens suicide unless she agrees to go on a date. It is a moment that the film treats as charming, but in reality is a serious warning sign.
Throughout the film, extreme emotional behaviour is framed as devotion, intensity is confused with love, and boundaries are disregarded. When Allie moves away, Noah writes letters to her every day for a year, unaware that Allie’s mother hides the letters. From Noah’s perspective, Allie is ignoring him, yet he persists. What is presented as romantic perseverance is obsessive behaviour that ignores consent. The film’s popularity has helped normalise these patterns, especially for young audiences, suggesting love should feel overwhelming, consuming, and impossible to step away from.
However, not all cinematic love is unhealthy and sometimes we are thrown a few good examples amongst the bad.
One of these examples is the Romantic Drama If Beale Street Could Talk (2018) which provides a model for healthy, tender relationships. Tish and Fonny navigate extreme challenges with emotional honesty, mutual respect, and intimacy rooted in consent and care. Fonny prioritises Tish’s comfort in their first sexual encounter, while Tish maintains her independence throughout their relationship, despite a teen pregnancy and Fonny’s imprisonment. Despite her young age, Tish makes empowered decisions about her life and future. Their love is devoted, but it does not erase their individuality, showing that love for another person does not require losing yourself in the process.
Additionally, About Time (2013) offers another example of cinematic love done right. Tim and Mary’s relationship thrives on everyday connection rather than dramatic intensity. From their first dates to quiet mornings cooking and sharing domestic chores at home, their intimacy is built on gentleness, attentiveness, and psychological safety. Both partners feel secure enough to be ordinary, vulnerable, and imperfect together. This portrayal reminds us that healthy love can be calm, steady, and rooted in shared life rather than overwhelming, tumultuous drama.
Romance on screen often glamorises emotional harm and obsessive intensity, teaching us to associate love with suffering, chaos, and emotional extremes. But real love looks very different. It respects boundaries, nurtures individuality, and grows through care, trust, and honesty. This Valentine’s, we need to #LookCloser not only at the stories that have shaped our expectations of romance, but also at the ones that offer healthier alternatives. Because control, obsession, and emotional destruction are not love, no matter how beautifully they are framed on screen. Threats of suicide, coercion, and disregarding boundaries are not love either. And the more we learn to recognise these unrealistic and harmful standards, the better equipped we are to seek out relationships that feel safe, mutual, and genuinely loving.