Author Colleen Hoover has blazed an impressive trail in the young adult romance genre, with an astonishing 24 novels and novellas during the past dozen years.
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| After yet another near-miss effort to spend even a fleeting moment with the daughter she never has known, Kenna (Maika Monroe) admits her fears and helplessness to Ledger (Tyriq Withers), who is trying hard to be fair with her ... and with everybody else. |
This is the first one Hoover has co-scripted, alongside Lauren Levine.
Hoover’s niche often concerns characters trying to navigate relationships that are fractured, damaged or even toxic. Although the atmosphere can be dark and moody, these are credible, relatable, real-world dramas; no surprise, then, that Hoover has an extremely devoted fan base.
The driving question in Reminders concerns the circumstances under which redemption and forgiveness are possible ... and whether the key character deserves them.
The story begins as Kenna Rowan (Maika Monroe) returns to her home town of Laramie, Wyoming. Her first act, on the city outskirts, seems spiteful; she angrily removes a cross and flower bouquet marking the site of a previous road accident. Then, left on her own — with very few possessions — she makes her way to the ironically named Paradise Apartment complex, and books a unit that almost maxes out her cash in hand.
The feisty landlady, Ruth (Jennifer Robertson, a hoot), offers a slight deduction if Kenna accepts one of the many kittens crawling around the check-in counter.
Her unit isn’t quite a pit, but it’s darn close. (Subsequent moments spent with the kitten, as the story proceeds, are a sweet touch.)
Finding a job is next. But all the doors slam shut when Kenna honestly admits, on the application forms, that she has just been released from prison. This frustrating first day concludes when she winds up in the bar that now occupies the bookstore she once loved. She has a flirty, but brief encounter with the owner, Ledger (Tyriq Withers); the dynamic seems oddly off.
Kenna finally secures a job at a local grocery store, thanks to the kindness of shift manager Amy (Grammy-winning country singer-songwriter Lainey Wilson), who doesn’t probe. Their initial conversation is telling; Amy believes in giving people the chance to prove who they are in the present, rather than who they were in the past. (Nice thought. We need more of that.)
Kenna’s back-story emerges slowly, as the days pass. Roughly five years earlier, she survived a vehicular accident that killed Scotty (Rudy Pankow), the love of her life. Since Kenna was the driver, and under the influence of a controlled substance, she was blamed for his death; she pled guilty, and went to prison.
She has returned to Laramie with one goal: to see Diem (Zoe Kosovic), the now 5-year-old daughter she never has met. (Kenna gave birth while incarcerated.) The little girl has been raised by Scotty’s parents, Patrick (Bradley Whitford) and Grace (Lauren Graham), with constant “substitute father” participation by Ledger, who lives across the street from them.
Although Scotty and Ledger were best friends, the latter never met Kenna ... hence, no immediate recognition during her appearance in his bar. (Scotty kept her secret from his best bud? That’s impossible to believe.)
When Patrick and Grace inevitably learn that Kenna has returned, the merde truly hits the fan. Meanwhile, Ledger’s initial fury — after figuring out who Kenna is — gradually softens. He perceives the degree to which she’s damaged goods, doing her best to atone for — and move on from — a past tragedy.
“You’re the saddest girl I’ve ever met,” he admits, at one key moment.
Kenna’s thoughts and actions are recorded in letters that she writes to the long-gone Scotty: a ritual she has maintained for the past seven years. Her few possessions include a stack of fat notebooks filled with such missives. Much of her thoughts and back-story emerge via voice-over, as she writes.
(We sense, almost immediately, that these letters will contain a hitherto unrevealed Important Detail. To be revealed at the right moment.)
Much of this film’s charm comes from its colorful roster of supporting characters, all of them well played. Nicholas Duvernay is solid as Roman, Ledger’s closest friend and bar co-owner; he tellingly points out that one of Ledger’s best qualities is the ability to see things in shades of gray, rather than harsh black or white. Bar co-worker Mary Anne (Hilary Jardine) is a cheerful, salt-of-the-earth soul with instinctive kindness.
Whitford and Graham are persuasive as the late Scotty’s shell-shocked parents. Their reaction to Kenna’s presence is quite reasonable, particularly in the wake of some awkward near-miss encounters. But Grace, despite herself, can’t help being a little curious: a hopeful sign.
Little Zoe Kosovic is an irrepressible bundle of joy as Diem: wholly delighted by every aspect of life, devoted to Ledger — as he is, to her — and only vaguely, occasionally curious about why her own mother never visits. (“She needs to get a bigger car,” is Grace’s flimsy excuse.)
Actress, model and disability advocate Monika Myers — Canada’s first runway model with Down syndrome — is delightful as Kenna’s apartment neighbor, Lady Diana, who knows neither physical nor conversational boundaries. She’ll walk into Kenna’s apartment unannounced, and bluntly speak her mind. Her character is employed as gentle comic relief, particularly with respect to how she sizes up Ledger.
But — of course — Kenna and Ledger remain the story’s primary focus. Monroe credibly handles her character’s disparate emotional arcs, veering from humbly trying to fit in, to frantic attempts to see Diem, to shattering despair. One small step forward frequently is followed by a large step backwards.
Withers has an even greater challenge, in making us believe that Ledger’s initial anger — at Kenna’s unexpected, intrusive presence — and his protective instincts toward Diem, ever would adjust. At heart, though, he’s a kind-hearted soul who — like Amy — believes in second chances. More crucially, Monroe and Withers share excellent chemistry, and their characters spar well.
Of necessity, Levine and Hoover have condensed the latter’s 336-page novel, most notably limiting the character roster and plot beats to those mentioned above. The greater hostility that Kenna faces, from a larger subset of Laramie’s population, is completely absent (with no loss, as far as this film is concerned).
We know the story is building either to some sort of Big Reveal, or the wrenching possibility — since little Diem remains sheltered from all this trauma — that Kenna will sacrifice her own happiness for the greater good.
I’m reminded of the telling line, from 1973’s A Touch of Class: “Do you love her enough to let her go?”
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