Before I ever understood the term wanderlust, I understood Sharpay Evans. I was 12 years old when I first watched Disney’s sequel to High School Musical. She lounged by the pool, wearing a white swimsuit with a fuchsia pink throw-on (one, I promise, would make my holiday wardrobe feel complete), and channelled main character energy for the sunshine season. All I ever wanted to do as a preteen then was listen to pop music and drive off into the next coastal town in my bright pink convertible. It was the perfect summer film.
There was something distinct about summer in old-school cinema. It was sun-drenched, warm, and blissfully uncomplicated, even as characters nudged you gently to seek more. They remind us to switch things up, to explore places we’ve never been to, be open to shared glances at a bar that end with long walks along the Seine, to jump off a cliff, to take a leap, make a splash, and fall in love. And so, I’ve been to Corsica with Ved and Tara, who made me believe that I could be whoever I wanted to be. I’ve gone deep diving with Arjun along the coasts of Spain, written letters to Juliet with Sophie in a sun-soaked Verona, and eaten beignets with chef Carl Casper in New Orleans.
These films gave us a version of summer that felt expansive, romantic, and full of possibility simply because of the story they told. Cinema didn’t feel a need to explain itself. It was unapologetic in its softness, escapist tendencies, and idealism. At a time when stories are analysed for symbolism and stripped for subtext, sunshine films from yesteryear offered a sense of joy that didn’t need to be dissected. It is perhaps why we keep going back. Stories of Bunny and Naina, or Elizabeth Gilbert linger, because there is a quiet comfort in returning to familiar yet exciting plots, places, and people that are impossibly charming.
In a time where everything feels complex, these films remind us that there is nothing unsophisticated about wanting something simple: a holiday, a romance, a beautiful place, and a version of yourself that feels lighter than the one you left at home. Here’s a list of some of my favourites.
Parent Trap (1998)
When I was a kid, every summer, my parents would take me to the local video library (a tiny detail that firmly dates me) to rent movies for the holidays. The rule was simple. We could only choose one film to rewatch. Every other pick had to be a new watch. I still remember when my father introduced me to the Lindsay Lohan starrer, The Parent Trap (1998). The story follows the journey of a pair of twins, Hallie and Annie, who were separated at birth by their divorced parents. Twelve years later, when they met at a summer camp, they decided to switch places—across continents—to reunite their parents.
That was when London secured the number one spot on my travel bucket list—brick houses, a rainy day at Harrods, sneaking in a call at a red telephone booth, and walking across Abbey Road against Beatle’s Here Come The Sun. It was also when I realised, I’d much rather have a country house beside a vineyard in Napa, California, than anywhere else in the world.
The Parent Trap, set in stunning locations and layered with the perfect amount of warmth, love, and cosiness, served as an idyllic escape.
Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani (2013)
Everyone talks of the one film they wish they could watch as if for the first time again. Ayan Mukherji’s Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani will always be it for me. It had released a few days before schools were reopening after the summer holidays. The film follows the story of a studious Naina Talwar who joins a trekking group to Manali and ends up meeting her former classmates from school, and of course, one in particular—Kabir Thapar. They couldn’t be more different. She found home in dal chawal and long conversations with old friends. He wanted to travel the world…until a best friend’s wedding brought them together, years later.
At 14, I remember falling in love with the idea of travel and life-changing experiences that came with it. Like Bunny, I wanted to explore the by lanes of Paris, capture unheard stories in New York, find adventure in the middle of the deep blue, and seek solace against a stunning sunset. At 26, however, I return to the film and find a quiet warmth in its second half—in returning home, in celebrating love as they did in Udaipur, and in choosing dal chawal forever as long as it’s with the right person.
Roman Holiday (1953)
I was a student, studying literature, when I watched The Roman Holiday (1953) for the first time. It felt like a yesteryear postcard come alive. A black and white romantic comedy, the film traces the journey of Princess Anne, played by the ever-so-gorgeous Audrey Hepburn, who, on a visit to Rome, escapes her security and falls in love with a reporter, played by Gregory Peck. There was something entirely charming and unabashedly real about wanting to explore a new city without the protocol, pressures, and pageantry of being a princess. It was witty, light-hearted, and swoon-worthy, even as the film gently, in a rather poignant manner, brings forth the importance of self-discovery, freedom, and anonymity—all things travel often gives us.
Dirty Dancing (1987)
When I watched Dirty Dancing (1987) for the first time—I’d never felt this way before (IYKYK). Set against the backdrop of a stunning summer resort in Pembroke, Virginia, when Francis ‘Baby’ Houseman, from an affluent family, falls in love with the resort’s dance instructor Johnny Castle, dance became a form of resistance, protest, and freedom. Removed from everyday settings and predictable routines, to me, the film is a bold reminder to take a leap of faith, to defy the norm, to bend the rules, and sometimes break them. Because if we don’t allow ourselves to meet people, conversations, and places, how will we ever know who we are, who we want to be and where we want to go?
Dirty Dancing left me with a restless want to be lifted in love while dancing to Time of My Life and escape—even if it was just for the summer.
Mamma Mia! (2008)
Allow me to paint a picture for you: pristine blues, sun-soaked beaches in Greece, flowy silhouettes that hug your body right were you want, a letter to a father (or three), a playlist by ABBA, and Meryl Streep. No summer playlist would be complete without Donna and the Dynamos—even if it’s for one night and one night only. I could most certainly imagine living off Kalokairi and running my own hotel—even raising a daughter. With song, dance, and sunshine, the Mamma Mia! (2008) takes us through the days leading up to Sophie’s wedding in Greece, where she and her mother, Donna, run a hotel. Little does her mother know that Sophie secretly invites three men—Donna’s former lovers, with the hope that one of them is her father.
Romance, in this film, goes beyond courtship. In fact, perhaps, it is in this film that the greatest form of romance is found in the female friendships and womanhood that play the main character in the film. It is why my two girlfriends and I took a trip to Pondicherry (Greece was far too expensive as 19-year-old students in college) as an ode to the film. And so we jumped on the bed to Dancing Queen, sipped on wine in a bathtub, and sang at the top of our lungs.
Tamasha (2015)
We live in a world that seems to be fixated on boxing us into roles. Within the monotony of everyday life, deadlines, and responsibilities, we’ve been conditioned to believe that we can’t be more than what we’ve been told, that we can’t reshape our identity, or even have facets to ourselves. It is, perhaps, only when you’re travelling that you’re free. On vacation, you can be whoever you want to be—or so say Ved and Tara. The film traces the story of Ved, who is having an identity crisis, burdened by the expectations of his father. But when he meets a free-spirited Tara in Corsica, they decide not to reveal their real names or personalities. They take on identities and characters they’ve dreamt up. In the film, Corsica is not just a backdrop to their journey, but a character in itself. Cobblestoned streets, local music, and sunlit cafes play a key part in bringing Ved and Tara together, even if it’s just fleetingly.
But mostly, at the heart of it all, lies an unabashed fondness for the song, Matargashti shot against Corsica’s incomparable views and a summer-of-feeling that can’t be described.
Letters To Juliet (2010)
Sophie is an aspiring writer from New York. When she and her fiancé go to Verona, Italy, for a short vacation, she finds answers to questions she hadn’t been seeking out. This was when my fantasy of romanticising a summer in Europe began. Think sorbets and stolen moments with a stranger, chancing upon the secretaries of Juliet, and then taking a road trip through winding roads and vineyards in search of lost love with someone you met 24 hours before. Because really, why not? Count me in. Immediately.
And the feeling is perhaps perfectly summed up by Sophie, who wrote in her letter to Claire, “What” and “If” are two words as non-threatening as words can be. But put them together side-by-side, and they have the power to haunt you for the rest of your life.” It is a reminder to take your chance, believe in the kind of love they write stories about, and say yes to the detour.
Related: Plan The Ultimate Californian Summer, Brimming With Sun-kissed Days And Urban Wonders
Note:
The information in this article is accurate as of the date of publication.
