Turtles All the Way Down: A touching teen drama

Turtles All the Way Down (2024) • View trailer

3.5 stars (out of five). Rated PG-13, for dramatic intensity, brief profanity and sexual references

Available via: MAX

By Derrick Bang

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.

 

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.

While director Hannah Marks’ handling of Turtles All the Way Down isn’t quite in their league, it’s nonetheless a poignant character study anchored by richly nuanced performances from its two stars.

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.

 

Paper Towns: Things aren't as they seem

Paper Towns (2015) • View trailer 
Four stars. Rated PG-13, for mild profanity, partial nudity and teen sexuality
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 7.24.15

Today’s teens continue to live in great times, with respect to movies that speak to their experiences.

When Margo (Cara Delevingne) entices Quentin (Nat Wolff) to help her during a late-night
bit of "payback," their first stop is a big-box store, where he grows increasingly nervous
over the unusual items that get tossed into the shopping basket.

Best of all, we’re getting solid, respectful adaptations of existing books, graced with thoughtful, multi-faceted storylines by authors who understand the importance of plot logic, character development and — wait for it — subtlety.

As opposed to, say, this week’s other high-profile release: the bombastic, über-dumb Pixels.

Paper Towns comes from the pen of best-selling teen-lit author John Green, whose most recent novel, The Fault in Our Stars, brightened movie screens last summer. Paper Towns is an earlier work; it’s also a quieter, mildly sneaky narrative that builds to a somewhat unexpected conclusion ... albeit one that feels just right, in hindsight.

The sensitive, finely tuned screenplay comes from Scott Neustadter and Michael H. Weber, who certainly know the territory; aside from having scripted The Fault in Our Stars last year, in 2013 they also delivered a poignant adaptation of Tim Tharp’s The Spectacular Now.

Paper Towns is cut from different cloth, most visibly because it doesn’t concern emotional damaged or terminally ill characters. The teens populating this Florida suburb are reasonably ordinary, and in a way that’s the crux of the narrative: None of us wishes an ordinary life, particularly not as a teen. We all hope for something extravagant: or, in the words of our protagonist, the “one miracle” to which he figures everybody is entitled.

In the case of adolescent Quentin “Q” Jacobsen (Josiah Cerio), living in the outskirts of Orlando, his miracle arrives when Margo Roth Spiegelman (Hannah Alligood) and her family move into the house across the street. Just like that, Quentin is smitten. Proximity turns them into bike-to-school buddies, but Quentin soon discovers that Margo is a wild child, whose adventurous nature eventually exceeds his comfort zone.

She’s ... disappointed. She doesn’t exactly say or do anything, but young Alligood’s gaze reflects gentle censure, perhaps even betrayal.

Flash-forward to the present day, toward the end of everybody’s senior year in high school. Quentin (now Nat Wolff) and Margo (Cara Delevingne) have drifted apart, become all but strangers. She has cultivated a semi-scandalous reputation, replete with wild stories passed within the school corridors.