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If you’re an avid devourer of romantic films, you’ve probably come across the Manic Pixie Dream Girl (MPDG). 

Coined by Nathan Rabin, the term describes a female character who “exists solely in the fevered imaginations of sensitive writer-directors to teach broodingly soulful young men to embrace life and its infinite mysteries and adventures”. Ever since, the term has garnered popularity in pop culture, so much so that it has become a cliche to identify this fictional female character.  

Several who fall under this trope include Zooey Deschanel’s Summer from (500) Days of Summer (2009), Cara Delevingne’s Margo from Paper Towns (2015), Kate Winslet’s Clementine from Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004), and Kirsten Dunst’s Claire in Elizabethtown (2005). 

The MPDG is written to be quirky and free-spirited, with a tinge of “not-like-the-others” personality. She does not conform to societal norms, often exemplified through her unique self-expression, be it through rocking colourfully-dyed hair, blasting indie music, or dressing in another decade’s fashion. 

In her multidisciplinary analysis of this stereotype, Lucia Gloria Vazquez Rodriguez writes that these women’s “sole dramatic and narrative purpose in the films is to inspire the creativity and passion of the fragile, insecure, male protagonists”. In essence, MPDGs are plot devices to catalyse the male lead’s growth and maturity, written to help him realise his true potentials and aspirations. Female characters categorised under this trope are viewed as muses, instruments, tools, whose arcs barely gain development.

Though seemingly favouring the male leads to which the MPDGs are muses, this archetype is a double-edged sword upon closer inspection.

The labelling of women—fictional or otherwise—as MPDG is inherently laced with sexism. When we consider that this trope only exists to expedite the character development of male protagonists, misogyny is unveiled. Women of this trope do not progress independently; they simply serve the male lead and show him life from a different angle; and once that purpose is fulfilled, she fades into oblivion. 

This trope is birthed by the male gaze; coupled with the fact that most of these characters are written by male scriptwriters, the female lead ends up being flat and one-dimensional, though this is rarely spotted at first watch. Take, for example, the spontaneity of these girls; they constantly have time to spend with the male protagonist, going on risky adventures and exploring new perspectives of life. Are they truly spontaneous? Or were they written to lack ambition and motivation so they can spend time forwarding the male lead’s development? Writing women as side characters to a male lead’s story is undeniably misogynistic as it perpetuates the idea that women should be subservient in serving men. 

Another ramification of this trope is its effect on young women. When impressionable girls dive into films featuring MPDGs, they can be influenced to think the route toward happily-ever-after is by reducing themselves to serve male purposes. In the worst-case scenario, one might even model herself so tightly to the MPDG that she stunts her ambitions for men. While there is nothing wrong with wanting to stand out and be loved, the MPDG trope is not a suitable mould for adolescent girls. 

On the other edge of the sword, a latent portrayal that goes unnoticed is how this trope sheds a bad light on the male leads. The existence of an MPDG and her very purpose implies that men will not be able to realise their true, full potential without the help of a woman, creating a necessary condition for the success of an on-screen man even though we know it’s not true—men and women alike are capable of scaling heights on their own. 

The danger of anything becoming a ‘catch-all’ is that it becomes overused, often negatively. Classifying someone as an MPDG is no longer restricted to film characters. Zooey Deschanel has become the MPDG embodiment because many of her roles happen to be MPDGs. Her quintessential portrayal of Summer in (500) Days of Summer pinpoints how damaging this trope is. Be warned, spoilers ahead. 

The film is told from the male protagonist, Tom’s, point of view. We watch Tom fall in love with Summer and project onto her his idea of perfection. Therein lies the problem: Tom does not see Summer as a woman of her own command, he sees her as someone who exists to fulfil his happiness. 

There’s a scene in the film that shows two parallels of the same event: Tom’s expectation and the reality. This muted scene captures the difference between Tom’s view of Summer (as an MPDG) and who Summer is as an individual. When they break up, Tom sinks into rock bottom, as if he lost all direction in life once Summer was out of reach. Though meant to be a deconstruction of the MPDG trope, the film has become directly associated with the archetype instead.

Women on screen and in real life are simply not purposed to be a figment of the male fantasy, nor can they be shaped to fit the idea of a ‘perfect woman’. While the depiction of MPDGs does not seem like a big deal, the traction it has gained indicates that it is well on its way to becoming the main representation for women on movie screens. Whether this representation will spread like wildfire to encompass real-life women is another issue whose scope this editorial is unable to cover.

Rabin wrote a follow-up article for salon seven years later apologising for coining the phrase: “…I also realised that I didn’t recognise the manic pixie anymore.” Rabin continued to call for the death of the trope, indicating his wish to erase the phrase from writing and urging for “more nuanced and multidimensional female characters” that better reflect contemporary women.

There you have it: the Manic Pixie Dream Girl. A double-edged sword that should be sheathed because men are capable of fulfilling their potentials without a woman’s aid and because women, like every one of us, are the main characters of their own story.