Image: SFD Media LLC

Middle-Aged Women Get Their Young Lovers on Screen, But They Deserve So Much More

In Amazon Prime’s The Idea of You, a 40-year-old single mom falls for a 24-year-old boy-band idol. And the internet loses its mind.

She’s called a cougar, a stalker, the “sleaziest mom of the year.” He’s questioned about the relationship, while she’s shamed. The mom—played by Anne Hathaway—has to hide out until the hate subsides.

The sequence points to a truth we all know: When women date younger men, people get weird. The man might be teased. The woman? She’s despised—at least in America.

Older man, younger woman? That’s not news—it’s tradition. On screen, it’s standard casting. Off screen, it’s barely a headline.

Cue the Double Standard

But flip the ages, and now it’s a spectacle. Sure, real-life couples like Cher and Alexander Edwards, or Helena Bonham Carter and Rye Dag Holmboe, are shaking things up. But Madonna? Demi? They got mocked for trying. The cultural cynicism still clings.

And yet—something is shifting. Streaming platforms are starting to flip the script on May-December romances. Maybe because they know who’s watching: older, often female audiences who’ve had enough of invisibility.

Hollywood’s Age Gap Obsession Is Getting Older—but Not Wiser

Take Lonely Planet, where 35-year-old Liam Hemsworth ditches his 28-year-old girlfriend to sleep with 58-year-old Laura Dern. Nicole Kidman—also 58—has recently been cast opposite men nearly half her age: 29-year-old Harris Dickinson (Babygirl), 37-year-old Zac Efron (A Family Affair), and 48-year-old Alexander Skarsgård (Big Little Lies).

On paper, it looks like progress. But watch them closely, and something’s still off—more tired stereotypes than feminist reinterpretations. If these films really want to appeal to older women, the writers have some serious rethinking to do.

The “cougar” trope has been prowling around Hollywood for decades, but it hasn’t evolved much.

In The Graduate (1967), Anne Bancroft’s Mrs. Robinson seduced college grad Dustin Hoffman (only six years her junior in real life). Fast-forward to 2003, when Diane Lane found herself (and a younger man) in Under the Tuscan Sun, a global hit that arguably sparked the era of Cougar Town, MILF Manor, and other half-baked series.

Back then, the “older woman” was in her 30s or 40s. Now, she’s in her 50s. The age is aging—but the storyline isn’t.

Still Seeking Worth in Another’s Gaze

Across all these roles, there’s a common thread: The woman’s self-worth is unlocked, not by wisdom or success, but by the interest of someone.

Hathaway’s Solène is a gallery owner with a full life, but she’s still stinging from her divorce. In Babygirl, Kidman is the top female at her firm willing to risk it all for a dominating young intern. In A Family Affair and Lonely Planet, Kidman and Dern play successful writers validated by the attention of brawny but bland young bucks.

These women aren’t just hot, they’re whole. But the scripts can’t seem to imagine female confidence without male approval. The takeaway? The worth of women is still tied to being desired, while age only seems to intensify that need.

And it’s not just the straight girls. In HBO Max’s new Sex and the City update, And Just Like That…, 59-year-old Cynthia Nixon’s Miranda leaves her husband for a younger woman—Che (Sara Ramirez), giving up a prestigious career opportunity to follow the aspiring actor to Los Angeles.

Superficially Feminist

Middle-aged women on screen are finally taking their lives into their own hands, which might look like empowerment. But scratch the surface, and these “feminist” portrayals start to unravel.

Take Nightbitch, where Amy Adams goes feral from the boredom of motherhood. Or The Substance, where Demi Moore literally sheds her skin to become younger

Feminist anthems? Maybe. But more often than not, these stories rely on the same tired cliché of women losing their identities as they age. Youth, often in the form of a virile man, calls to her like a siren. Go back, it tells her, not forward.

At her Golden Globes acceptance speech, Moore said: “In those moments, when we don’t think we’re smart enough, or pretty enough, or skinny enough, or successful enough … know you will never be enough, but you can know the value of your worth if you just put down the measuring stick.”

Inspiring, but also peculiar to hear from a 62-year-old actress who looks surgically engineered not to age.

We Don’t Need Younger Men. We Need Better Writers.

If these films want to empower women and truly appeal to them as viewers, they should show a less-than-perfect version of what a typical woman’s body and face look like at 40, 50, or 60. Hint: it’s not Hathaway, Kidman, or Moore.

They should give them companions worthy of their characters and provide them with their equals—accomplished, kind-hearted, middle-aged partners, not still-maturing boys, abusive men, or selfish lovers.

They should depict women feeling fulfilled at the height of their careers and personal lives, not over the hill, embarrassed to be seen, or ready to retire their hopes, talents, and dreams.

It’s no coincidence that when And Just Like That… came out, a popular meme went around reminding people that the show’s glamorous cast were the same age as—wait for it—the then-cast of The Golden Girls.

If middle age at the movies is no longer frumpy and grey, if 50 is indeed the new 30 on screen, then it’s high time for Hollywood to give these female characters the realistic confidence, distinction—and partners—they deserve.