[four-star-rating]Shailene Woodley, Ansel Elgort, Willem Dafoe, Laura Dern, Sam Trammel[/four-star-rating]
“I am not a mathematician, but I know this,” says Hazel Grace Lancaster (a radiant Woodley) in The Fault in Our Stars, “There are infinite numbers between zero and one. There are .1 and .12 and .112 and an infinite collection of others. I want more numbers than I’m likely to get.”
Why? Because, at 16, she is slowly dying of cancer. Experimental treatments have only prolonging the inevitable. So, why, then would she ever let herself fall in love with Augustus Waters (a charming Elgort) – who has barely survived his own cancer, having lost a leg?
It may seem odd to make a teen romance based on two physically damaged people facing mortality. It may also actually be brilliant, given most teenagers’ love of grim, romantic gestures. What saves both John Green’s best-selling Young Adult book and this movie version – directed by Josh Boone – is a careful tone. The material balances between off-hand snark, sweetness, and maudlin moments.
The effects of Woodley’s and Elgort’s cancers are always there. Elgort sports a limp he’s tried to turn into a jaunty, cocky 18-year-old’s swagger. Woodley has a tube delivering oxygen to permanently damaged lungs; she drags the tank around everywhere.
The Fault in Our Stars is both a literate book and movie. These two young lovers are more mature and smarter than their healthy counterparts. She worries about the effects her death will have on her parents (Dern and True Blood’s Trammel). He creates stories and metaphors for conquering fear. They bond with each other over books, particularly a novel about a young girl dying of cancer, leaving her own family behind.
And right there – despite every wonderful thing in the acting, direction, and tone – is the overarching problem. Green could’ve made the lovers’ favorite book about anything, but he made it about cancer. Elgort’s daring involves cigarettes, things that cause cancer. A few of the moments – especially the dialogue – are so riddled with cliché; it takes us out of this lovely film. The one possible scene of amazing verisimilitude – a visit to Anne Frank’s house – is turned into an uncomfortable romantic gesture. These simple, reductive moves happen in both the book and the movie; I was hoping the filmmakers would’ve fixed some of that. Where things could have been more poetic, it goes to literal, too committed to oversimplified symbolism. I think audiences, especially teenagers, would’ve enjoyed being artistically challenged more.
[rating-key]
Perhaps I am expecting too much of Josh Boone (who only previously directed the mediocre, maudlin Stuck in Love). It would’ve been a big risk to vary from a best-selling novel that has millions of rabid fans. Perhaps many of the intended audience would’ve mutinied. Still, I wish for more complexity.
That’s not to say The Fault in Our Stars isn’t worth seeing, particularly for the performances. Elgort is wonderful; Dern and Trammel are heartbreaking. Resplendent Woodley (who was also amazing in The Descendants, The Spectacular Now, and Divergent) fills us with hope the future of acting. With roles like this, her career now holds an infinite number of possibilities.
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