Starring: Luke Bracey, Liana Liberato, James Marsden
Having met as teenagers, Amanda (Liberato, Michelle Monaghan) and Dawson (Bracey, Marsden) are star-crossed lovers. However, their home lives, reputations and tragic circumstances ultimately tear them apart. Reuniting years later after the death of an older friend (Gerald McRaney), the romance between them starts to be rekindled.
It appears to me that Nicholas Sparks is becoming the next Stephen King. Not necessarily in terms of quality or content, but more that EVERYTHING Sparks writes seems to end up as a movie pretty soon. Also, like King, Sparks tends to stick solidly to certain formulas, plot points and tropes. He writes romantic plots often there are elements of forbidden love, dark criminal pasts and our male protagonist is always masculine but sensitive as if he comes home every night after work with a pile of timber under one arm and a puppy in the other. The Best Of Me is this formula to the absolute letter.
At nearly two hours, The Best Of Me is cotton-wool-coated saccharine tosh and is astoundingly contrived as if there was a checklist of all the plot points mentioned above being checked off one by one. Such is its adherence to these old chestnuts that even logical sense can not stand in their way and inevitably, it becomes ridiculous. Those that stand in the way of our lovers are either complete caricatures or their objections are given very little reason save for some fairly blunt and simple points that come pretty much out of the blue.
So is there anything to recommend this movie? The performances are okay, given the material. Liana Liberato has a good screen presence and whilst I've seen him in much better things, I always find James Marsden rather likeable. Also, as tried as this film's romantic conventions are, I do take some comfort that the romance being purported here lacks the rather unnerving undertones of a lot of work being pushed towards this market at the moment. Still, its daft wholesomeness is undercut with a cynical hint. This sort of thing is being peddled fast and loose and its marketability is clear. Films like The Best Of Me aren't hateful, but their brand of ten-a-penny disposability doesn't do the ideals of romance any justice.
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