Four stars. Rated PG-13, and too harshly, for fleeting profanity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 5.8.20
Writer/director Alice Wu’s The Half of It is a charming, high school-oriented riff on Edmond Rostand’s ageless Cyrano de Bergerac.
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| Ellie (Leah Lewis) can't believe the embarrassingly clumsy prose that Paul (Daniel Diemer) expects will impress a girl that he has worshipped from afar. |
The Netflix original’s sharp script is matched by a talented young cast, with the bonus of a setting that’s far more picturesque and romantic than most: Squahamish, a small rural town in tree-laden Washington state. (That said, filming actually took place in and around numerous small communities in upstate New York.)
Ellie (Leah Lewis, a familiar presence on TV’s Nancy Drew) — shy, lonely and ferociously smart — supplements the family income by “ghosting” homework papers for classmates. They gratefully pay top dollar but otherwise ignore her.
Money is tight because Ellie’s father (Collin Chou) has been in a depressed funk since the unexpected death of his wife. They immigrated from China to take advantage of America’s greater opportunities; he became the Squahamish train station master.
But now he rarely ventures out of the house; Ellie even handles the station signals every day, when trains pass. She cares attentively for her father, and they bond while watching old movies; conversation, minimal to begin with, always ceases during his favorite “good parts.”
Ellie cherishes a childhood photo, taken alongside her mother.
One random day, while bicycling home from school, Ellie is stopped by Paul (Daniel Diemer), a jock who towers above all the other students. (He’s 6-foot-5!) He’s sweet on Aster (Alexxis Lemire), one of the school’s cutest girls, but worries that his clumsily written “introductory letter” won’t send the proper message; knowing of Ellie’s writing skill, he hopes she can give it a better spin.
Right away, props to Paul for writing an actual physical letter, rather than sending a text. As we’ll soon see — despite his hulking appearance and tongue-tied, aw-shucks manner — Paul has more emotional intelligence and maturity than anybody else in this story. Diemer is absolutely perfect in the role, exuding just the right blend of kindness, compassion and salt-of-the-earth integrity.
Ellie initially (wisely!) wants nothing to do with this situation, but, well, a utility bill is overdue at home. Matters are complicated further by the fact that everybody knows Aster “belongs” to Trig (Wolfgang Novogratz), the most popular, talented — and conceited — member of the senior class.
No matter. Thanks to her talent for assuming the literary identities of others, Ellie has become a sharply observant scholar of human nature. This first letter has the desired result; Paul, ecstatic, insists the charade continue. The best way to do that, of course, is to clandestinely follow and watch Aster, to pick up on her likes and dislikes.
Two problems emerge.
Actual physical interaction becomes necessary, and poor Paul simply isn’t as eloquent in person; his efforts at ad-libbed conversation do little but puzzle Aster. It becomes worse when Paul, getting overconfident, becomes more impatient about wanting to “write his own scripts.”
Even worse — because this is so alien to Ellie’s sense of herself — all this time spent on surveillance has kindled her own interest in Aster. As a result, Ellie begins to shape Paul into a more perfect version of herself.
Unlike most of their other classmates, Paul is genuinely grateful for Ellie’s efforts; their own friendship blossoms, and we learn more about them, as they become more candid with each other. Wu’s dialog is crucial here, and she doesn’t miss a note; Lewis and Diemer also handle the dynamic with touching sensitivity.
Lewis’ handling of Ellie is particularly sweet; watching her wary doubt slowly erode — could a guy like Paul really become a confidant? — is a marvelous display of acting subtlety.
Lemire does equally well with a role that isn’t as one-dimensional as it seems. At first blush, Aster is just the “pretty girl” who appreciates such sincere attention from somebody other than Trig, who thinks only of himself. But pay attention to the gradual shift in Aster’s gaze, as she registers the growing bond between Ellie and Paul, and considers its implications.
The film is laden with gentle, heartfelt exchanges between various pairs of these key players, always sounding authentic and true to their characters. Wu’s directorial touch is gentle and shrewdly measured; no tempers are lost during the course of this saga, which also is bereft of anything approaching violence or deliberate cruelty.
This is a story of quiet, intimate moments; lighter touches — bits of humor — arise because they’re organic (and because we all do silly, eye-rolling things at times).
Chou is heartbreaking as Ellie’s father, his gaze often focused on some invisible horizon only he can see. He radiates fragility, as if unexpected contact might shatter him into a hundred pieces. Novogratz is hilariously, unapologetically larger than life as the vain and arrogant Trig: every inch the total jerk we all endured in high school.
Becky Ann Baker is a droll presence as high school teacher Mrs. Geselschap, who — fully aware of circumstances, and noting Ellie’s distraction by other matters — worries that half her class will flunk out, if Ellie doesn’t resume writing their papers.
The tech credits are solid; cinematographer Greta Zozula has a flair for catching the colors and atmosphere of this small-town setting. She also frames and soft-focuses a hot springs visit in a manner that suggests a touch of magic realism (wholly appropriate to what’s taking place during this sequence).
Anton Sanko’s quietly melodic score is punctuated by Americana-style songs old and new, from Sharon van Etten, Gordon Lightfoot and the Ruen Brothers. Wu knows precisely how to use them; it’s refreshing when inserted songs complement on-screen events, rather than interrupting them.
Wu, an MIT and Stanford computer science grad who abandoned a Microsoft career to write and direct her first film — 2004’s Saving Face — waited 16 years before making this one, her second. I wish she worked more frequently, but if it takes that long to craft a gem as tenderly precious as The Half of It, I guess we can’t complain.
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