Two New Rom-coms and a Judy Blume Classic: What to Watch, What to Skip
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Are you there, God? It’s me, Erin. I just wanted to tell you that I really loved your new album, Renaissance. Keep up the good work!
This is a shorter, bite-sized post. Read it. Savor it. Pass it along? I am but a humble servant, sifting through an oversaturated cultural landscape to unearth precious stones worth your already-scattered attention and tossing out the duds that are most definitely not. Behold! My movie picks and one pan, from best to worst:
Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret. (in theaters Friday)
Judy Blume caused a controversy after publishing her beloved 1970 novel, which boldly centered the lives of pre-teen girls, addressing “taboo” topics with emotional honesty that felt revolutionary — and still does to this day. Blume, who remains a perennial on book ban lists, spoke directly to her young readers and the questions on their minds. In Margaret, the 11-year-old protagonist is consumed with worries that she’s lagging behind her classmates, development-wise. She desperately wants to get her period and wear a real bra. While she aches to fill out and fit in, she freely explores different religions, carving her own special relationship to God.
Blume kept Hollywood at bay for years until writer-director Kelly Fremon Craig (The Edge of Seventeen) finally persuaded the icon to let her turn Margaret into a movie. And what a gem it is. I caught an early screening this week with several other adults and dozens of pre-teens who laughed out loud and yelled at the screen in recognition as Margaret and her friends navigate the awkwardness of adolescence. I cried at the scenes between our heroine (Abby Ryder Fortson, a natural) and her fun-loving grandmother Sylvia (Kathy Bates, magnificent). They reminded me of all the New Year’s Eves that I spent with my late Grandma Marion, drinking Martinelli’s carbonated grape juice and cackling over Conan O’Brien, her favorite late-night host.
Fremon Craig does the book justice and then some. She draws lovely performances from Rachel McAdams and Benny Safdie and brings together the crème de la crème of experts behind the camera. The legendary Ann Roth (The English Patient, The Hours, The Talented Mr. Ripley) did the costumes! Hans Zimmer did the music! Blume produced! Reader, I swooned.
My verdict: Isn’t in obvious? Go see it!
A Tourist’s Guide to Love (streaming on Netflix)
In the late 1990s, Rachael Leigh Cook became an overnight sensation with the teen romantic comedy She’s All That, playing a “nerdy” art-girl outcast opposite big-man-on-campus Freddie Prinze Jr., the Noah Centineo of his day. Cook has since followed rom-com fans to Netflix, where she routinely stars in shiny, feel-good genre flicks that are what I like to call pleasantly mediocre — the crème de la middle that once populated movie theaters before the superheroes took over. Some of these middling romances were SO BAD (Serendipity, anyone?), but I loved them anyway. Like John Waters, I love everything I make fun of — and Cook’s latest vehicle, A Tourist’s Guide to Love, is no exception. She plays LA-based luxury travel agent Amanda Riley, whose long-term accountant boyfriend (Ben Feldman) unexpectedly dumps her after accepting a job offer in Ohio. Blindsided, she escapes the country, booking a trip to Vietnam to spy on a mom-and-pop tour company that her high-strung boss (Missi Pyle) hopes to acquire. It turns out that her guide, Sinh, (Scott Ly), is very, very hot, and very, very single. Sparks fly. Feelings grow. Amanda blushes watching her leader emerge shirtless from the ocean, a not-so-subtle nod to Colin Firth’s Pride and Prejudice Pond Moment. From then on it is Eat Pray Lust. Sinh teaches his student, an obvious Virgo, how to fully experience the country rather than check off the touristy boxes on her heavily curated to-do list. Should Amanda maybe explain that she’s secretly surveilling him so as to rip off his inspired itinerary and methodology? Like, what in the colonialism?! Ugh! She’s got some soul-searching to do!
My verdict: Pleasant. Mediocre. Thoroughly enjoyable.
Ghosted (streaming on Apple TV+)
The trend of action-adventure romances that The Lost City kicked off might end with Chris Evans and Ana de Armas in this stilted offering. Evans is Cole, a horticulturalist who has never left the United States; De Armas is Sadie, a CIA agent pretending to be an art curator. The lovers meet-cute at a farmers’ market, and while both leads are insanely good-looking, they share little chemistry. But he asks her out and they spend a whole 24 hours together, Before Sunrise-style. Cole thinks Sadie is The One and even captures a selfie when she’s sleeping and makes it the background image on his phone. (I did have a good laugh at that.) After their perfect date, she disappears and does not respond to Cole’s overzealous text messages. He tracks her down in London and then follows her there. Like a lost, creepy puppy. In a case of mistaken identity, he is kidnapped by arms dealers and taken to Pakistan, where Sadie — revealing her true occupation — comes to his rescue, guns blazing. The gunfire continues with bullets and special effects replacing clever dialogue, a core component of a successful rom-com, and the result is oh-so-tedious. At two points in the movie, supporting characters comment on Cole and Sadie’s off-the-charts “sexual tension.” Yada yada yada. I’ll believe it when I see it.
My verdict: All bang and no banter. Skip it!
A shout-out this Wednesday to author Emily Henry on the release of her brand-new must-read, Happy Place. Emily writes romantic comedies with heart, heat and humor — if you’re new to her oeuvre, I can also recommend Beach Read, the book equivalent of Folklore. (And someday I will stop referencing Taylor Swift!) Thanks, as always for reading. Yours in newly sharpened pencils and excessive exclamation points, Erin.