As much as I loved the film Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, something has always bothered me about Kate Winslet’s character, and other “free-spirit” women on the big screen.

It’s not that I don’t celebrate their independence, but too often the “quirky girlfriend” is a woman with real medical/psychological issues, and those problems are treated as nothing more than superficial idiosyncracies, masked by a desirability (and vulnerability) that men find attractive. I’ve long wanted to further plumb the depths of this identity, but another writer has beaten me to it.

Writing in The New Republic, JiJi Lee offers a provocative critique of the female characters in films such as Eternal Sunshine, Closer, Melinda and Melinda and Garden State — all of which, argues Lee, rely on the same cinematic ploy: “An emotionally reserved man bored with his life falls in love with a quirky, free-spirited woman who rekindles his joie de vivre.”

Certainly it’s a plotline familiar to many older films. What may be different here (and what should be applauded) is that the men are depicted as vulnerable and prone to heartache and depression. But the result is that their enchanting girlfriends’ stories are “secondary and often played for humor.” In Garden State, for instance:

We learn that Natalie Portman’s character is a pathological liar who suffers from epileptic seizures so threatening that she is forced to wear a protective helmet to work. Instead of giving Andrew a deeper glimpse into her troubled life, Sam passes off her lying ticks as cute. Meanwhile, the spotlight is on Andrew as he comes to terms with his quarter-life crisis. In Melinda and Melinda, Hobie meets Melinda for the first time when she interrupts his dinner party and announces she has just swallowed 28 pills. When Hobie’s crush on Melinda escalates, we are supposed to suspend our disbelief that he is falling in love with a woman who nearly committed suicide and yet doesn’t even bother to ask her how she is recovering. Instead, he buys her an art-deco pin.

By disregarding women’s personal conflicts, these movies play into the idea that women could lead a life of insouciance and romance if they just didn’t give a damn about conventions like career, marriage, or honest communication. While some may argue that the imperfect girlfriend is a refreshing respite from the unrealistic Bond-girl fantasy, the imperfect girlfriend also reinforces unrealistic standards for women. The girlfriend in these films is attractive to the desperate male protagonist because she has no hang-ups. She’s too flaky to think about her future and too impetuous to be tied down by a relationship. That’s why we never see weddings in any of these films. By the time the man has enough doses of his girlfriend’s loopy personality to cure himself, the credits roll. This fantasy also conveys the message that women may have complex, flawed lives but can detach themselves and march on in a Pollyanna way. At the heart of these films is the implication that women have the desire and energy to devote themselves to their troubled male counterparts, further ossifying the traditional roles that men and women are supposed to play. While the progressive twist depicts men as the ones in distress, women are still meant to cosset them.

Ultimately, argues Lee, these edgy, independent films reflect dated ideas about gender roles: “She brandishes a bottle of scotch instead of an apron, but the quirky girlfriend is the modern version of Donna Reed or the flashy new sports car, serving as an antidote for the man’s emotional ailment.”