Five Feet Apart (2019)

Foreword: Q: Stephen, what's your excuse for your absence this time?

                 

                 A: Life's a bitch. Next!

OK, I sure didn't except to almost owe someone an apology.

When I first saw the advertisements for Five Feet Apart, I expected it to be another Fault In Our Stars clone; a movie trying to capitalize on the emotional platform that that movie provided, but without the grace and genuineness that inculcated Fault In Our Stars into the zeitgeist. If bombs such as Midnight Sun and Everything, Everything are any indication, then Fault In Our Stars might just be the Love Story of our generation.

Above all, I anticipated that I would be categorizing it as a Just Die Already Movie. Yes, in the same vein Roger Ebert provided humorous sobriquets to narrative types and tropes, I decided to partake in the same practice. When I use the term, "Just Die Already Movie," you probably have evoked memories or ideas of movies involving either a love interest or overall main character succumbing to a tragic illness. And while that is the overall outline, the impetus that sparks a Just Die Already Movie is when a movie is so manipulative, so laborious, and has so little regard for the reality of the illness and more of a regard for bludgeoning the easiest of emotions out of the audience.

Two examples of Just Die Already Movies are 2011's A Little Bit of Heaven, with its smug, haughty, lackadaisical, and treacly approach to the topic of love while diagnosed with cancer, and 1982's Six Weeks, which used a sick child as a lifeless, obsequious figurine for the screenplay to navigate itself through an empty, virtually non-existent story, slathering itself in egregious cliches and shameless bathos.

Quick message for the filmmakers of both those movies and to all others that may potentially make this mistake: being offensive and boring is a lethal combination. So, for Five Feet Apart, I felt that the only distinction would be the disease at hand, cystic fibrosis, and nothing else. Surprisingly, however, the film turns out to be a meditative look into the disease, a portrayal of the delicacy of the condition and how it affects the people afflicted with it and their relationships with others, and a tender, subtle love story between two individuals trying to live before it's their time to die. I'll say it. It won me over...

...almost.

The movie revolves around Stella. She has cystic fibrosis and spends her days in the hospital, awaiting the possibility that she may receive a lung transplant. All the while, she posts vlogs online about her condition and her day-to-day life coping with it and interacting with the nurses, including her most dear nurse friend, Barbara, as well as her friend and fellow patient, Poe. One day, she meets Will, a patient also stricken by cystic fibrosis. While Stella is adamant and obsessive with her daily regiment and making sure she takes her medications, Will seems to be oddly passive of any danger and doesn't prioritize his medical self-care. This leads to a barter between the two: Stella will advise and counsel him on his daily regiment, if she lets Will, an artist, draw her. Their bond becomes thicker, which leads to them beginning a courtship, all done five feet apart from each other. Will they grow closer or further?

First and foremost, I must begin by clarifying and revealing what I'm sure people are anxious to hear. This film, for the most part (we'll get to that later), doesn't trivialize cystic fibrosis. In fact, I was surprised that first-time director Justin Baldoni and up-and-coming screenwriters Mikki Daughtry and Tobias Iaconis had the decency to showcase actual details about how cystic fibrosis affects these patients, as far as their routines go. It shows the medications, it shows the scars, it shows the infections and it does this not to sensationalize, but to relay the point that the illness at hand isn't just coughing, brave faces, and nose tubes. There is a death scene in the film, but in a subversive turn, the film (spoilers!) doesn't kill off either of the two leads. This is practically an anomaly in movies of this type, but it is a inspired surprise and a heartbreaking bit of realism. Death isn't timed for a sentimental conclusion. It's unexpected, sudden, and achingly sad. 

The film does have some funny moments, but they never feel contrived or divorced from the film's emotional intent. The comedy is humorous, but is excruciating and elegiac in nature. It's not levity-for-levity's sake, but rather it is adding to the film's impact and investment. Also, props should be given to the cinematography by Frank G. DeMarco. At its nature, the film is brilliantly shot because the location is the hospital. With the exception of one other place during the end, the film takes place solely at this hospital, which adds to the melancholic feeling of entrapment and desperation that all of these characters are feeling in some way. 

Additionally, however, DeMarco manages to add some poetic, poignant visual touches, like when Stella is in surgery to have a new tube put in and she's transported into a colorful painting that she has on her wall. Even better is when Stella and Poe see each other after a front and the camera cuts back and forth between them, but shot far away, further adding to the aesthetic and thematic crucialness pertaining to the characters being at least six feet apart from each other.

Admittedly, most of the film relies on the charisma of the actors, because, let's face it, these characters themselves aren't original. Stella is the sweet, down-to-earth girl, torn apart by a tragedy in her life, who learns to let her guard down and not live a life of excessive planning and restrictions. Will is the detached, quasi-rebel, whose pursuit of love teaches him to value life and gives him a purpose. The film even shoehorns in the gay best friend and the sassy, warm-hearted black nurse. While Kimberly Herbert Gregory is an appealing actress and is perfectly avuncular as Barbara, the black nurse in question, the film merely ensnares her to be solely a cliche. 

However, Moises Arias, better known as Rico from Hannah Montana, continues his streak of effective adult roles, playing Poe. He's frail and sullen, but still manages to hook you to his character with this trademark smile and his joyous warmth. Will's brazen defiance actually translates out to be an extreme embrace and fear of uncertainty, thanks to Cole Sprouse's winning performance (two Disney Channel stars in a film about cystic fibrosis). Up-and-comer Haley Lu Richardson may have just hit breakout status playing Stella, giving a heart and a personality to her frenzied, manic behavior. Her genuine anguish makes it all the more heart-wrenching and convincing. The dichotomy between Sprouse and Richardson is to be expected, but the actors themselves have wonderful chemistry, all the while remaining five feet apart, one foot less than recommended, in order to take something back that the disease stole from them. All of these actors take these archetypes and flesh them out into relatable individuals.

I cared about these characters. I was invested with them. I laughed with them. I was worried for their safety. Throughout the film, I was surprised that, through a barefaced but observant handling of cystic fibrosis and through amiable characters, the film overcame the obstacle of being a Just Die Already Movie. I even suspended my disbelief that hospital security really seems to suck, because half of the actions that the characters do would never be allowed. I was with it...and then it lost me.

It seems that, during the last twenty minutes, the aforementioned screenwriters were worried that they would lose that teen crowd, so they decided to morph into the exact movie I was afraid it was going to be. All of the cliches stormed in like a football team, each as shopworn and mawkish as the next. The writers copped out and opted for an emotional simplicity that would appease fourth-graders. It rushes narrative aspects, while droning on emotional ones. I couldn't believe how rapidly and unconvincingly one crisis was solved. Without giving it away, it boils down to "I don't wanna do it!" "Do it!" "OK."

It actually was at this point when I realized that one problem the movie had was its editing. The film could've used about twenty minutes cut from it, because the emotional moments near the conclusion are so plodding and so padded out. Any glimpse of an emotionally serviceable moment is immediately undercut by something so wishy-washy. The editing is flawed beforehand, too. While the scene where Will and Stella look at each other's scars is certainly a powerful moment, I feel that the movie expected it to be a cultural landmark to behold time and time again, because they hold on it a bit longer than needed. And the way they reiterated the narration from the beginning to recontextualize it in the most obvious of ways was so manipulative that, at that point, I tapped out mentally. At that point, cystic fibrosis transmuted into a game of hot potato, being passed around for each emotional arc it needed to reach. I may have extolled the movie for maturely and naturally handling death, but at that point, after the sluggish, drawn-out final act, I almost felt cheated that the main characters stayed alive. At least, there would've been an emotional pay-off on some level.

But how do you rate a movie like this?

Well, I have a personal principle that an ending can only drop a film one star from my perceived rating at the time. However, there's more to my reaction of this film. A while back, when I reviewed My Little Pony: The Movie and I discussed how there's at least 50% of the film I find enjoyable, I concluded that I was amused, but not entertained. Distracted, caught off-guard, yes, but there was nothing substantial that stuck. Here, I was entertained. So, I guess now I need to distinguished between being entertained and being fulfilled. I was appreciative and magnetized by a lot of the movie, but it didn't fire on all cylinders. The movie gripped me, then let me go earlier than I desired. It's like someone prepared a wonderful hearty meal for me, let me devour my thick, juicy roast beef and then threw out my rice, veggies, soup, and bread before I even got a chance to taste it.

CBS Films may be a mixed bag, producing critically acclaimed works (Seven Psychopaths, Inside Llewyn Davis), forgettable fillers moreso fit for the ether than the multiplex (Extraordinary Measures, The To-Do List) or outright duds (Beastly, The Back-Up Plan), but that means it's not impossible for them to make a solid film. Even if they shaved off ten minutes, they could've had a fine movie with a limp end. However, when it comes to a quality film this time around, much like Stella and Will, it seems they kept a reaching distance from that possibility.

Also, whoever was in charge of arranging the music for this film deserves a demotion. Burn every ounce of those stultifying, lifeless, emo tunes. Burn them! BURN THEM ALL, I SAY!

RATING: Two-and-three-quarters stars out of four