Far too much time has passed between captivating film adaptations of John Green novels: not since the marvelous one-two punch of The Fault in Our Stars and Paper Towns, in 2014 and ’15, respectively.
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| Although Aza (Isabela Merced, left) is nervous about wearing this dress on what might become an actual date, Daisy (Cree) assures her that it's perfect. |
Green’s books sometimes have been labeled “teen tragedy wallows,” but that’s unfair; it’s more accurate to credit him for sensitively bringing attention to people who — in real life — often get marginalized by debilitating conditions. That’s definitely the case here, and scripters Elizabeth Berger and Isaac Aptaker have delivered an impressively faithful adaptation of Green’s 2017 novel.
On the surface, Aza Holmes (Isabela Merced) seems like any other 16-year-old Indianapolis high school student, but she’s often crippled by anxiety and acute OCD. She obsesses about the contents of her microbiome and is terrified of infection, particularly the spore-forming bacterium C-diff (Clostridium difficile). During panic attacks, she scratches open an unhealed callus on one finger, hoping to drain imagined pathogens.
It’s impossible to avoid wincing each time Aza does this. Although Marks certainly doesn’t linger on the bloody result, there’s something primal, awful and invasive about witnessing this act of minor self-mutilation ... and it certainly establishes this young woman as tragically damaged.
Aza frequently skips the meds that would ease such anxiety, much to the frustration of her caring psychiatrist, Dr. Kira Singh (Poorna Jagannathan, recognized from TV’s Never Have I Ever). But it’s clear that Aza doesn’t “feel like herself” while on the meds: an excuse that’ll be recognized by all who are forced to make such a choice.
“Your now is not your forever,” Dr. Singh stresses.
Aza is burdened further by having lost her father — the one person who “really got her” — at a young age. Her devoted mother Gina (Judy Reyes, late of TV’s Scrubs and Devious Maids) does her best to compensate, but is well aware — to her anguish — that it isn’t quite enough.
Fortunately, Aza is blessed with a longtime loyal friend, Daisy Ramirez (Cree Cicchino, now going solely by her first name). Daisy is everything Aza isn’t: vivacious, enthusiastic, bold, effortlessly cheerful and flamboyant in appearance. She’s sensitive to Aza’s condition, and does her best to “normalize” their time together; they’re also mutual friends with Mychal Turner (Maliq Johnson), an aspiring artist who’s clearly sweet on Daisy.
Aza and Daisy often wind down at the local Applebee’s, where meager funds restrict their order to what’s available via a coupon ... and they’ve saved dozens of such coupons (much to the eye-rolling resignation of their usual waitress). The girls make such trips in Aza’s cherished car, which she has named Harold, and was inherited from her father.
Their shared financial limitations prompt Daisy into high alert after hearing a news broadcast about billionaire construction magnate Russell Pickett, who has gone missing in the wake of accusations of corporate malfeasance; a reward of $100,000 is offered for any information leading to his whereabouts.
With the wacky impulsiveness that could come solely from a teenager, Daisy decides they should try to find the guy, in order to claim the reward. Her enthusiasm isn’t entirely crazy, because she knows that — years back — Aza spent a summer with Pickett’s elder son, Davis (Felix Mallard).
Claiming the reward, Daisy insists, would allow them to “live the American dream: benefitting from somebody else’s misery” (a savvy line).
What happens next is the story’s first eyebrow-lift. After sneaking onto the Pickett property, the girls are caught and wind up confronting Davis ... who seems wholly nonplussed by their sudden appearance. (I guess we’re supposed to assume that he has long nurtured a crush on Aza, since back in the day.)
In terms of acting chops, Mallard is this film’s weak link; he can’t begin to sell this unexpected reunion. And what Davis does shortly thereafter is the story’s major contrivance (although it solves a problem common to many films about teens: their massive expensive wardrobes and apparent ability to swan through all manner of escapades, without regard for what things cost).
Although the “search for Pickett” serves as this story’s Hitchcockian MacGuffin, the actual focus remains on whether Aza can somehow surmount her anxieties. To that end, Berger and Aptaker enhance the relationship dynamics between Aza and (in turn) Daisy, Davis and her mother.
In the short term, Aza’s deepening affection for Davis enhances her tendency toward crisis. She’s afraid to fall in love, because the thought of kissing somebody — and co-mingling all those germs — is terrifying.
Even Daisy’s counsel — “Love is how you become real” — may not be sufficient.
Marks draws a nuanced performance from Merced, who persuasively sells the moments when Aza, seemingly in a happy mood, slides suddenly into crisis. Her posture tightens, her eyes glaze, and she seems determined to withdraw into her own skin. The haunted gaze and guilt — Aza condemning herself for failing again — are heartbreaking.
Merced’s capable handling of such abrupt mood swings notwithstanding, Cree almost blows her off the screen. She’s a total natural: effortlessly real in front of a camera, and — from her first appearance — a veritable force of nature. This likely will be Cree’s last “best friend” role, because she’s absolutely gonna be a star.
Reyes puts heart and soul into her performance as Aza’s mother; her worried gazes speak volumes. J. Smith-Cameron pops up briefly as a Northwestern University philosophy professor whom Aza has long admired, and who explains the film’s odd title: It references the philosophical problem of infinite regress, and alludes to the mythological notion of a “World Turtle” that supports a flat Earth on its back. (To which I respond, say what?!?)
We get only a fleeting glimpse of Davis’ missing father in a newspaper clipping, and the guy looks an awful lot like George Lucas. If it really is Lucas, that’s a droll touch, since Daisy is an avid writer of Star Wars fan fiction.
Ian Hultquist’s gentle score is supplemented by a busy collection of cannily chosen and well-placed pop tunes, including Biig Piig’s “Oh No,” Billie Eilish’s “Bad Guy,” Tame Impala’s “The Less I Know the Better” and Harry Styles’ “Sunflower, Vol. 6.”
Although this film probably won’t resonate in memory as much as The Fault in Our Stars, it’s still a compelling and well-presented character study: definitely worth one’s time.
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