It is inexorably approaching, seeping through all aspects of culture with its toxic cuteness threatening to reduce us all to giggling, crying, shallow consumers of media. It is, of course, the tweenification of America.
Justin Bieber reigns over the charts with his infant frame, and the Twilight series might be the only books some adults read this year.
The latest front of the movement is clearly in the movies and the Miley Cyrus vehicle, The Last Song is a clear tipping point. No longer is Cyrus (Hannah Montana: The Movie) content to limit herself to the millions in the Hannah Montana cult: She now wishes to be taken seriously and make movies with grown-ups.
Unfortunately, Cyrus — or whoever manages her empire — picked an adaptation of the most childish of writers, Nicholas Sparks, to launch her foray into legitimate acting. Sparks and newcomer Jeff Van Wie’s screenplay casts Cyrus as Ronnie Miller, an angsty, rebellious New York-bred teen forced to live with her father, Steve (Greg Kinnear, Green Zone) on a Georgia beach.
Since the dialogue is composed at least in part by Sparks, the characters all can’t help but speak in platitudes and casually break down in tears. While dropping Ronnie and her brother Jonah (Bobby Coleman, Post Grad) off, their mother Kim (Kelly Preston, Casino Jack) confesses in between sobs to Steve, “We hurt them,” referring to the couple’s divorce. The implausibility of a long-divorced couple suddenly shaken by the consequences of their actions is lost on all parties.
Of course, it is much easier to characterize via keywords than to actually expend the effort to create convincing beings. Thus, Ronnie’s parents’ separation becomes an incredibly easy way to explain and, more importantly, excuse all of Ronnie’s bad behavior. Her tantrums, her shoplifting bust, her late night carousing, her black boots, her emo fashion and her neglect of her prodigious piano talents are all to be expected from a child with separated parents who had to grow up in New York City — or so the heavily Red state reasoning goes.
Aside from rural Americans who have never seen a real, live member of the counterculture, it is difficult to imagine anyone will accept Cyrus’ pouty, facile portrayal of Ronnie.
Before one has time to examine the insanely ill-informed ways director Julie Anne Robinson (Coming Down the Mountain) portrays the punk crowd Ronnie falls into, a bleach-blonde, green-eyed, six-packed savior arrives in the form of Will Blakelee (an inexcusably wooden Liam Hemsworth, Knowing).
Blakelee is rich and statuesque, yet enjoys taking care of aquatic life, works an authentic blue-collar job as a mechanic and eventually sweeps Ronnie away.
It is at this point when The Last Song becomes awfully, unbearably serious, and a host of ridiculous revelations are splattered against the screen with little to no purpose.
The film may actually have been more perceptive if its hackneyed developments were simply flashed at the audience with helpful title cards saying “OMG.” Instead, we get Cyrus and Hemsworth struggling to force the smallest semblance of tears from their eyes. Even the tweens in the screening audience weren’t buying it, and began to chuckle every time Cyrus put on a frown and the waterworks began to spring anew.
As a movie crafted especially for fans of Cyrus’ other enterprises, there is music involved. Because Ronnie is so gifted at piano, she is accepted into Julliard despite getting a zero on the SATs. Yet, one simply can’t help but be put off by the egotism involved in a pop star casting herself as a musical genius. There is a reason Glitter is consistently ranked among the worst films of all time.
The Last Song is not merely a successor to a long line of mediocre movies dealing with terminal illness to be released of late, such as My Sister’s Keeper and The Bucket List. Life As a House was essentially the same movie as The Last Song, but its clichés were merely average rather than insulting.
Instead, the film can best viewed as the first full tweenification of a normally adult movie. All one can do is pray that there is no encore.
RATING: 1 out of 5 stars
vmain13@umdbk.com
