After being left at the altar in Rome, Matt makes the best of it by going on his non-refundable honeymoon alone. But he’s not alone for long. Solo Mio comes with a smattering of content concerns, especially when it comes to its use of alcohol. But it’s probably cleaner than 98% of the romcoms you’ll see today.
They call Rome the Eternal City. What better place to proclaim your eternal love?
Or so Matt Taylor thought. When he popped the question to his girlfriend, Heather, he presented an Italian wedding as something akin to a nuptial bonus package. “Will you marry me?” he asked. “In Rome?”
Well, what girl could say no to a proposal like that? She could have her wedding cake and the Colosseum, too. Oh, and so much more! Matt would spare no expense on the honeymoon package deal: Tandem bike rides through the city! Visits to the Trevi Fountain and the Spanish Steps! The food! The drinks! The amore!
And sure enough, everything took shape just as Matt had hoped.
Well, up until the day of the wedding. Up ‘til the moment when “Here Comes the Bride” played and the bride … didn’t come.
Matt found Heather’s engagement ring in the church, along with a note explaining her untimely departure. “I hope someday you forgive me,” Heather wrote.
But Matt’s not ready to call off the marriage just yet. Heather’s still knocking around Rome, and he hopes that—if he sends her about 17 quintillion texts begging her to come back—she’ll reconsider. Sure, they might not have the wedding ceremony that they (well, that Matt) dreamed of, but at least they’ll be married, right?
Sure, it’s a thin hope to hold onto—as thin as angel’s hair pasta. And then there’s the matter of the honeymoon package that Matt poured so much money into. The hotel can’t change it and doesn’t offer refunds.
“If I was in your position, Mr. Taylor, I would just enjoy the package myself,” the hotel’s sympathetic desk agent says. “Go see the sights.”
So while Matt waits for Heather to change her mind, he decides to do just that. He’ll ignore the side-eyes he gets while riding a tandem bike alone. He’ll turn away from all those happy newlyweds who paid for the very same package.
Matt will get his money’s worth. He’ll see the Eternal City on his own ’til death does he part—or ‘til the vacation package ends, whichever comes first.
Matt braces himself for a very lonely vacation. But he’s not alone for very long.
Soon after getting jilted at the altar, the failed groom meets Gia, a kindly café manager who promptly retrieves Matt’s wallet from a pack of pickpocketing schoolboys. Soon, she’s trying to teach Matt Italian and introducing him to some of Rome’s hidden, and delightfully human, corners. They become good friends and (when Matt realizes that Heather’s not coming back) something a bit more.
Matt is also befriended by a couple of other newlyweds who signed up for the very same honeymoon package. Neil just got hitched to his former therapist. Julian is an old hand at honeymoons, having married the same woman (Meghan) three times. (When they start arguing in their hotel room, an exasperated Julian sighs, “Why does this happen every single marriage?”)
Both men clearly have issues. And sometimes the advice they give Matt isn’t perhaps the best. But they’re in his corner throughout their shared Italian adventure, helping Matt to move on and rooting for him to find real, lasting happiness.
And before we leave this section, let’s just state the obvious: Matt seems like an awfully nice guy—and understanding, perhaps to a fault. Even though he’d have every reason to be furious with Heather, we never see it. And as his Italian sojourn trundles on, Matt begins to move past his heartache and embrace the moment.
Matt’s wedding was to take place in a beautiful Italian church, officiated by a priest. A prayer is said before a dinner, asking for blessings for “this wonderful family.” The hotel clerk tells Matt that he’s “praying things work out.”
For a 21st-century romcom, Solo Mio feels delightfully old-fashioned. This is really a movie about love, not lust. And while it does have a mild sensual wink or two, the asides would still fit reasonably comfortably in a romcom from the 1950s or ‘60s.
Julian and Neil drag Matt to a nightclub to help him forget his troubles after being left at the altar. While waiting for drinks at the bar, a woman named Claudia introduces herself to Matt, refusing to move on even after he says he’s still engaged. After a night of heavy drinking by both, the two leave together and spend the early morning hours walking the streets—Claudia listening to Matt talk about his broken engagement.
“She’s the only woman I ever loved,” Matt says.
“She doesn’t have to be,” Claudia says.
The camera then whisks us back to Matt’s hotel room, where viewers fully expect to see him and Claudia stumble in while kissing. But no, Matt stumbles in alone, and he spends some time dancing drunkenly with an imaginary Heather.
Matt’s friendship with Gia, the kindly café manager, soon blossoms into mutual attraction and (when Matt realizes that his relationship with Heather is over) romance. The two kiss and hold hands on occasion, but their relationship goes no further on-screen.
Gia says that she had been in a decade-long relationship, but that her boyfriend had been a serial cheater. “It was a sign,” she says. “I wasn’t meant to be married. I was not meant to be a mom.” We later meet Gia’s old beau in the company of a much-younger woman.
Matt’s new friend group (including Julian’s wife, Meghan, and Neil’s wife, Donna) sometimes interprets these relatively innocent dalliances as being more romantic or physical than they actually are. Someone wonders whether they should be feeling bad for Matt’s breakup, given how quickly he seems to have moved on to other romantic interests.
Donna—who, you’ll remember, was Neil’s counselor before she became his wife—recalls when Neil declared his love for her: “After I had security escort him out, that’s when I finally realized Neil didn’t give up on me.” Meghan, now on her third marriage to Julian, quips that her husband does give up on her, “but never for that long.”
Matt dances in his tuxedo, sans pants. (His boxers cover anything critical.) We hear about one or two previous relationships. As is custom in Italy, people kiss each other on the cheeks. An outfit bares a shoulder.
Someone punches Matt in the face, leading to a bloody nose. Gia tells a story about how she broke her sister’s arm while pulling her off a Vespa scooter. Someone gets hit with a carry-on bag. We see a child’s drawing depicting a gladiator cutting off another gladiator’s head. (Matt, who teaches the child in art class, says, “I had to have a talk with his parents.”)
One use of “a–” and about three more of “h—.”
When Julian learns that Matt was left at the altar, he quickly orders drinks for Matt and himself.
“I don’t drink,” Matt protests.
“Tonight, you do,” Julian says.
Matt gets seriously drunk during a night at the bar—staying until the bar itself closes. He spends much of the rest of the evening staggering around the streets of Rome with Claudia, both clearly intoxicated, before returning to his hotel room—still apparently plastered. He drinks some of the wedding champagne he ordered while gobbling up a piece of cake.
The next morning, a hungover Matt stumbles into Gia’s café, and she suggests he drink an espresso grappa—a coffee mixed with a bit of liquor. “When you drink in the evening, you need to drink in the morning,” Gia explains. (When Matt uses the American phrase “hair of the dog” to explain the same dynamic, she’s quite puzzled.)
From then on, Matt drinks regularly and liberally (though he’s only visibly drunk that first evening). His fellow travelers do, as well, sometimes to excess. (Neil and Julian drunkenly perform a karaoke number together.) Neil orders “shots for the whole bar,” then retracts the offer and orders alcohol just for his group. Gia’s family owns a vineyard.
Claudia apparently smokes. Though when we see her put a cigarette into her mouth, she’s so intoxicated that the filter side points outward.
Bets get placed on the outcome of a horse race. People debate the ethical and legal ramifications of Donna and Neil’s relationship. Lies are told, and people are misled.
“Where are you?” Claudia asks Matt shortly after his wedding-day debacle.
“I’m alone on my honeymoon,” Matt says.
“No, where are you?” Claudia says, gesturing to the beautiful, timeless Roman skyline. “Look around … don’t let your heart close your eyes to it.”
Such are the sweet, simple messages found in Solo Mio—a romcom confection as sweet and refreshing as a scoop of gelato. In the Eternal City, Matt learns to embrace the moment. In the wake of romantic catastrophe, he discovers a better, brighter future. Solo Mio tells us that Matt is a well-meaning guy who lives life in a state of low-grade fear. But Gia, his friends and perhaps Rome itself whisper to him, Take chances. Don’t be afraid. Live.
That’s good stuff, in moderation. It’s good to take chances, but there’s a difference between trying out for the school play and trying to hit 110 on the freeway, y’know? But I do think that we humans can sometimes be so desperate to hold to what we have that we forget to reach for what we can or should. I don’t think God likes us to ever feel too comfortable in this world of ours, but we all love our comforts. And sometimes, the couches of our lives keep us from getting up and running toward something better.
Ironically, the movie industry’s own version of “playing it safe” can come in the form of edgy content. It finds security in salacity, where gratuitous nudity or ribald behavior can help secure just that many more ticket sales.
And in that respect, Solo Mio embraces another sort of countercultural risk. In a genre where one-night stands and meaningless rolls in the hay are practically obligatory, this gentle romcom dares to just … hold hands. Kiss. Laugh. When someone says “I love you” in this Kevin James comedy, it’s not a prelude to sex: It’s the culmination of shared moments, intimate talks and quiet compatibility.
Solo Mio does stumble at times. Its use of alcohol as both a plot accelerant and a comic foil is dismaying. And if you look at our other content sections, every single one has stuff worth noting. But Solo Mio is less problematic than, I’d say, 98% of today’s romcoms, and that’s worth plenty of praise.
This film keeps its heart warm and its nose clean. It reminds us that disappointment can lead to unexpected joy and that change is the only way we grow. The fact that it takes place in the Eternal City—a city that earned the nickname through 2,500 years of constant, dramatic change—feels altogether appropriate.
Paul Asay has been part of the Plugged In staff since 2007, watching and reviewing roughly 15 quintillion movies and television shows. He’s written for a number of other publications, too, including Time, The Washington Post and Christianity Today. The author of several books, Paul loves to find spirituality in unexpected places, including popular entertainment, and he loves all things superhero. His vices include James Bond films, Mountain Dew and terrible B-grade movies. He’s married, has two children and a neurotic dog, runs marathons on occasion and hopes to someday own his own tuxedo. Feel free to follow him on Twitter @AsayPaul.
