Tag Archives: Maisie Williams

Then Came You

It cost me some dignity to even click on this film. That’s the first thing you need to know. The dying teen trope is practically my nemesis and it’s truly difficult to picture a universe in which I don’t resent it just for existing. So, not exactly a neutral space for writing impartial film reviews. But Netflix doesn’t pay me to write impartial reviews. Netflix doesn’t pay me at all.

Calvin (Asa Butterfield) and Skye (Maisie Williams) meet at a cancer support group where they’re both working on bucket lists, only they don’t call them that because that movie’s already been done. Their impending deaths lend an air of urgency to these lists – Skye wants to do loads of very general sounding things, like learn a trade and leave a mark, but she imposes only one item on his list: asking out a girl.

He works as a baggage handler at an airport where he’s seriously crushing on a flight attendant named Izzy. Which doesn’t stop Sky for going full manic pixie dead girl on him. That might be a nice farewell gift to a dying teen, only Calvin’s hanging on to a secret. He’s not dying. He’s just a hypochondriac.

Does this mean I only hate this movie half as much, or twice as much, on principle?

Then Came You has some nice moments, mostly because Butterfield and Williams are more watchable than a bag of dicks. Stop with the effusive praise, you say. No shade to Butterfield or Williams – they really are a sweet pair, she not quite convincing as a free-spirited punk, he all too convincing as an awkward, gangly spazz.

The problem is with the words coming out of their mouths. Whoever writes these things clearly thinks dialogue should double as a pancake topping: pure syrup. Skye had cancer, but she died of an overdose of cheese. Which actually sounds like my new top favourite way to die. Too much cheese! But not movie cheese. Cheese cheese. Goat cheese. Old cheese. Soft cheese. All the cheese. But Sky’s fatal dose of cheese came from doing all the tragic dying girl things that tragic dying girls always do in movies. Just once I’d like to see them go kicking and screaming. I mean, how many 17 year olds can possibly be so stoic in the face of the big sleep? I guess anger and fear and bargaining aren’t as photogenic. We like our tragedy porn to be youthful, docile, and composed. Tears are fine, but no ugly crying, it goes without saying.

Then Came You is ten cents out of $1.20 (a dime a dozen – is that how that works?). If you’re adding to your weepies fix, I suppose this one deserves a spot on the list. Otherwise it’s not a super great use of your Netflix account.

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The Book of Love

Truth bomb: I came upon this movie only because my friend Justin couldn’t stand it. And he tried. I mean, he watched a full 57 minutes, sweating profusely, pausing often to debrief his pain. The cause: Maisie Williams’ uneven accent. He couldn’t hack it. He also couldn’t place it. And good friend that he is, he thought I should have the chance to crack it. Since the film is set in New Orleans, I believe Cajun is the accent she was after. And since I don’t watch Game of Thrones (and Justin does), it wasn’t quite so jarring to me. But still kind of jarring. And hers isn’t the only one.

The premise: Jason Sudeikis plays a widower who works through his grief by a) growing a beard and b) befriending a troubled teenage girl (Williams) and helping her to build a raft out of garbage which she will then use to sail to the Azores. From New Orleans. Not symbolically.

Smothered with grief or not, I think it’s mostly understood that grown-ups are not allowed to help kids with projects that will certainly kill them. Right? But let’s cut poor Jason Sudeikis some slack. We’re not just talking about a dead wife, but one of those elusive COOL wives, the ones you don’t secretly loathe. His wife (Jessica Biel) was The Shit. Through extensive flash backs we learn that she was a manic pixie dream girl, except attainable, apparently. Way better than your wife. She was never not being crazy-awesome-cool. So it stung poor Jason Sudeikis really hard, guys. Really hard. It annoyed the fuck out of me, her constant perfection.

But anyway. If you’re a better person than I (and let’s face it, you likely are), this movie is about two people finding each other when they’re each at peak hurt and need. So that’s nice. Justin Timberlake does the music, which (sorry Jessica) is probably the only reason his wife gets asked to be in anything. The title of the movie is completely nonsensical except for the fact that they do play the song of the same name at some point. My sister danced to that song at her wedding, the Peter Gabriel version anyway.

Verdict. Don’t watch if you’re sensitive about accents. Do watch if you’ve just lost your Ultra Jiggy wife and you’re looking for reckless-child-endangerment ways to get over her. For the rest of you: it’s an okay watch. It doesn’t pack the emotional punch that it probably should, but hey: finally a movie about a dead wife and an orphaned kid where the box of kleenex is unnecessary!