(READ: Roger Rosenblatt on Anne Frank, one of TIME’s 100 People of the 20th Century) To paraphrase Hazel’s maxim on infinities: some atrocities are bigger than other atrocities. The trip also affords the filmmakers an egregious scene in the Anne Frank House, where a Jewish girl’s descent into the Holocaust is straight-facedly compared to a teen’s cancer. A meeting in New Amsterdam with Hazel’s favorite author (Willem Dafoe) seems a bilious detour with an improbable payoff. All these decades later, The Fault in Our Stars sets the most toxic misery among the most adorable company.įault has a few. Love Story, in 1970, streamlined these mental and physical disabilities into the plot wallop of leukemia, which befalls poor girl Ali MacGraw as her rich young husband Ryan O’Neal sobs and endures. Otto Preminger’s Tell Me That You Love Me, Junie Moon turned the duo into a trio: a literally and emotionally scarred young woman Liza Minnelli), an epileptic (Robert Moore) and a gay paraplegic (Ken Howard). Movies about adolescence as a secret garden, where only misfits fit, bloomed in the 1960s, beginning with David and Lisa: Keir Dullea as the boy who won’t let people touch him, and Janet Margolin as the girl with dissociative identity disorder.
(READ: Corliss’s review of (500) Days of Summer) And they must be denied access to their daughter’s tree house of love. Though they have become expert at fretful optimism and pre-grieving, the parents can be chaperones but not confidants. The movie gives them exactly one friend, Isaac (Nat Wolff), for misanthropic commit relief, and cannily excludes Hazel’s parents (Laura Dern and Sam Trammell) from the best parts of her luscious, endangered world. Weber - whose scripts for (50o) Days of Summer and The Spectacular Now also apotheosized the angst and ecstasy of young love - Hazel and Augustus are all either of them needs. In the screenplay by Scott Neustadter and Michael H. They may weave the same magic on moviegoers, so smartly does the film enfold this loving couple in the cocoon of evanescent intimacy. He’s like a pop record that has just three minutes to raise your spirits or break your heart. Skeptical Hazel comes alive at the innocent touch of Augustus, whose charm is as urgent as it is benign. Hazel’s and Augustus’s mutually ticking Doomsday clocks compel them to pack the luster of a lifetime - a first love, a trip to Europe, a meeting with Hazel’s favorite author, a last love - into what may be their only summer.
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