I’m still thinking about Off Campus.
I probably think about this show at least once a day.
I was initially hesitant to watch. I’m not always the biggest fan of YA TV shows. I didn’t watch Outer Banks. I couldn’t get into The Summer I Turned Pretty although I consider myself an honorary member of team Conrad. But a Sunday night with no plans led me to switch on my Prime subscription and find out what everyone was talking about.
Off Campus was a show that surprised me in the best kind of way.
Yes, it was corny in parts. It was full of tropes. It was steamy. It was predictable. But it also completely rewrote the script around romance stories – eliminating the most toxic parts.
As a child of the 90s and a tenacious cinephile, I consumed a steady diet of classic romantic comedies and TV soap operas. Mid-week evenings spent watching trickled-out episodes of Gossip Girl or The O.C. Friday nights waiting for the 8:30pm movie, hopefully a rom-com starring Cameron Diaz or Hugh Grant. Weekends well-spent digging through my local Blockbuster or Video Ezy where you could get five weeklies for $5. I’ve seen everything from Boys Don’t Cry and The Virgin Suicides to The Sweetest Thing and Never Been Kissed.
While I deeply treasure my film catalog, I understand that even some of my favourite titles have problems. And whether intentionally or not, this content has given many of us a toxic view about what romance looks like.
Many rom-coms paint a picture of a woman who centres herself around men. Her life’s greatest pursuit is ‘love’, and she usually finds it with a man who has a different set of rules for her than he does for himself. He must be catered or pandered to, and if she requires any time or space for herself, she is instantly villainised. She is a damsel in need of saving, and he is the hero that needs nurturing.
Movies like Freedom Writers, The Devil Wears Prada or Julie and Julia, condition us to believe male partners should become angry, aggressive or even end the relationship when their female partner devotes time and passion to a career or hobby. Grease, Never Been Kissed and She’s All That show off the idea that you need to radically change and become a better version of yourself if you have any hope of attracting the ‘cool’ guy. While I love both these films, it’s undeniable that The Notebook and Twilight both paint a picture that says love must be dramatic, fraught and hard won. Men are controlling but that’s just how they show they care.
Even children’s films like Shrek have issues. After a clear flirtation, Shrek and Fiona end up in a stonewalled fight over a simple miscommunication. Shrek is shown as righteous in his anger, rather than encouraged to resolve the argument with a discussion.
But Off Campus? This show is a refreshing departure, and one that our culture certainly needs more of. This young-adult romance show managed to completely rewrite the script around romance in just eight episodes.
Hannah's feelings matter and choosing herself isn't a plot twist
It was something that I only began thinking about during the seventh episode of the season – so a warning, there will be spoilers ahead. In the second last episode, Garrett is having an emotional episode, and asks Hannah via text to come and see him. Meanwhile, Hannah is having an emotional episode of her own as she deals with resurfaced memories of her assault. She shuts down, doesn’t text Garrett back, taking the space she needs to pick up her own pieces and pull herself together. When she’s ready, she heads to the hockey rink to find Garrett.
I was unconsciously holding my breath through the whole scene, jaw clenched, body tense. Because I was waiting for Garrett to yell at Hannah. Demand to know where she’d been. Blame her for his poor performance at the game. Accuse her of not being there for him.
Instead, when Hannah arrived, Garrett simply asked if she was okay; putting aside his own needs to first check if there was a deeper reason why he didn’t hear from her. The story did not force Hannah to minimise her emotions to cater to a man first, and neither did Garrett’s character. The story also didn't treat this moment as revolutionary, that taking up space was some radical act. It was just accepted, normal.
It was at this moment that I started reading more deeply into what I thought was simply a fluffy, weeknight watch. But everywhere I looked, I started to see rewritten tropes, healthy displays of affection and clear evidence that respect and trust is incredibly sensual.
Beyond 'yes', what consent really looks like
Off Campus offers us a real look at enthusiastic consent – a term we often hear but are rarely shown. Episodes three and four, show two scenarios where Hannah had verbally said yes to sex. In the first, she was clearly uncomfortable and unhappy. In the other, she was drunk. In both instances, we’re shown Garrett acknowledging that verbal ‘yes’ does not equal consent and he ceases the encounters. This contrasts to later episodes, when the pair do end up together, Hannah is shown as an active participant who is sober and enjoying herself fully.
Dismantling the ‘damsel in distress’
Hannah may indeed be in distress, but she is no damsel. After Garrett starts a physical altercation with Aaron Delaney, he is shocked that Hannah is upset with him. Garrett informs her that he wasn’t going to stand there and “do nothing” while Delaney slandered her – inferring he was protecting or ‘saving’ her honour. Hannah’s reaction flips the script. Garrett was not protecting her. In fact, she explains how Garrett’s violent actions only serve to retraumatise her.
Garrett’s character is only 20, as an audience we can afford him the space to make mistakes. But this mistake is not celebrated by the narrative. Hannah did the work herself to move past her assault, she did not and does not need anyone to ‘avenge’ her.
No reinvention required, Hannah doesn’t change herself for men
In rom-coms when a girl likes a musician or an athlete, the complication of the narrative suggests she’s not pretty enough, tall enough, sporty enough or popular enough to grab his attention. It’s a trope that goes all the way back to films like My Fair Lady and Moonstruck. But this is never a question that comes up for Hannah. She is a self-fulfilled character. Hannah is smart, attractive, with hobbies and an incredible community. Throughout the series, there is not a single inference from her or friends that Justin or Garrett wouldn’t like her because she’s not good enough.
There is no glow-up. No Pretty Woman shopping montage. No Clueless hair transformation scene. No Legally Blonde notes and studying reel. Not to say that a makeover is inherently bad, often some selfcare can be empowering. Regardless it is a pointed and refreshing choice that Hannah makes no outward changes to herself to gain either Justin or Garrett’s attention.
The sensuality of respect
Society tells us that men will always try to push our boundaries. Boys are mean to you when they like you. Men will always try to sleep with you. Platonic male/female friendships don’t exist.
Off Campus shows us a different reality. Dean (the man considered the “player” of the show) is the person that insists to Garrett that trust and comfort are essential during sexual encounters. Dean’s lustfulness never comes at the cost of someone else’s boundaries. When Hannah informs Garrett that she doesn’t drink at parties, there is no push back, no argument, no question. We’re also shown that John has the EQ to understand why Hannah doesn’t want to sip an open drink, liberating her from the burden of having to explain or assert herself.
None of these moments are overt. They’re subtle. Woven so seamlessly into the plot that if you’re not actively reading into the lines, you might miss them. But the effect is undeniable. This is an example of modern romance that exists without harmful myths, toxic romance and problematic stereotypes.
Too often we’re told that PC culture killed romance. That ideas like active consent have “ruined” dating. That feminism has made life and media wholly unsexy. But I’d argue respect is in fact sexy, sensual and downright hot. Off Campus is the proof. Here's to season two.
