Chemical Hearts: Partial combustion

Chemical Hearts (2020) • View trailer 

3.5 stars. Rated R, for profanity, sexuality and teen drug use
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 8.21.20

There’s never been any shortage of stories focused on the bittersweet angst, hopes and heartbreak of young people in love; as one character in this film observes, we can go all the way back to Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet.

 

Henry (Austin Abrams) doesn't understand why Grace (Lili Reinhart) has joined the staff
of the student newspaper; she refuses to write or participate in story-pitching sessions,
preferring to solely edit the work of others.

The premise is universal, and everybody responds to it: a painfully familiar scenario that stretches back centuries.

 

Amazing, then, that today’s writers continue to find (reasonably) fresh ways to explore the same well-trod territory.

 

Australian author Krystal Sutherland made a significant splash with her debut novel, 2016’s Our Chemical Hearts; a big-screen adaptation was inevitable, and it debuts today on Amazon Prime. Director/scripter Richard Tanne’s approach gets most of its emotional juice from the quietly sensitive performances by his two stars; alas, his 93-minute film can’t match the philosophical complexity of the 320-page book.

 

Tanne’s screenplay focuses almost exclusively on the two protagonists; many sidebar characters seem little more than afterthoughts. The result feels somewhat claustrophobic, although — again, to credit the stars — it’s easy to succumb to their predicament.

 

Seventeen-year-old Henry Page (Austin Abrams) has long coveted the editorship of his high school newspaper: a job he secures as his senior year begins. He’s surprised to discover, however, that he’ll be sharing the position with transfer student Grace Town (Lili Reinhart, recognized from TV’s Riverdale).

 

She’s an odd duck. She wears guys’ clothing, doesn’t seem interested in making herself look good, speaks only when spoken to … and, even then, with as few words as possible. It isn’t shyness; it feels more like an active disengagement from everything around her. She also has a pronounced, painful limp, and walks with a cane.

 

(Her being assigned the co-editorship seems a peculiar move on the part of the paper’s faculty advisor, since she expresses no interest in the job. We have to just roll with it.)

 

Henry fancies himself a romantic, despite never having had a girlfriend; he desperately wants to fall in love. His sudden proximity to Grace suggests possibilities, given that she enjoys love sonnets by Pablo Neruda. She graciously tolerates Henry’s presence, albeit in unusual ways. When he misses the bus, she offers him a lift in her car … which she asks him to drive (likely due to her injury, he assumes). But then she walks back to her place, and — a bit later — somebody comes along and drives her car home.

 

The Half of It: A complete joy

The Half of It (2020) • View trailer 
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.

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.

Five Feet Apart: Brings hearts together

Five Feet Apart (2019) • View trailer 
3.5 stars. Rated PG-13, for dramatic intensity and occasional profanity
By Derrick Bang

Mother Nature must’ve been really cranky when she came up with cystic fibrosis.

The genetic disorder is ghastly enough on its own, but insult to injury comes from the fact that two such victims must be very, very careful to avoid proximity to each other: a detail that apparently inspired Mikki Daughtry and Tobias Iaconis to concoct a premise laden with irony and Shakespearean-level tragedy.

Unable to enjoy anything close to a proper date, Stella (Haley Lu Richardson) and
Will (Cole Sprouse) make the most of various hospital locales.

What if two CF sufferers fell in love?

The result, Five Feet Apart, is a sweet little melodrama orchestrated with considerable care by director Justin Baldoni.

That seems a contradiction in terms, for a late entry in the “dying teenager” cycle that erupted after 2014’s adaptation of John Green’s The Fault in Our Stars. And, indeed, this film follows some of that mini-genre’s clichés: resolute young protagonist determined to beat the odds; engaging sidebar characters; little victories snatched from the jaws of frustrating setbacks. And vice-versa.

Some of the plot points are predictable; there’s simply no getting around it. Such stories come with limitations and built-in expectations.

But there’s also no getting around the fact that Haley Lu Richardson is quite charming in the lead role, and she’s well supported by Cole Sprouse and their co-stars. More crucially, Daughtry and Iaconis tell an engaging story while also supplying a gentle primer on the ins and outs of CF. This film doesn’t shy from grim details, but Baldoni avoids unnecessarily graphic or invasive sequences. We get it.

Indeed, everything comes together quite well … until a third-act hiccup that almost destroys the good will that Baldoni, Daughtry and Iaconis have built to that point: a sequence that abruptly stops feeling genuine, and becomes contrived Hollywood stupidity. Rips us right out of the movie.

The error was obvious to everybody at Tuesday evening’s preview screening, when the theater suddenly erupted with disappointed variations of “Oh, come on.”

So let’s set that aside, for the moment.

Plucky, 17-year-old Stella Grant (Richardson) has battled CF her entire life, meeting the enemy with a blend of high spirits, dogged research and the cheerful acceptance of limitations and frequent medical intervention. She has loyal gal pals who keep up with her candid vlog; she knows the nearby hospital staff on a first-name basis, thanks to treatment regimens that can last days or weeks. She manages the overwhelming quantity of meds with a scientist’s meticulous precision.

Me and Earl and the Dying Girl: A celebration of life and love

Me and Earl and the Dying Girl (2015) • View trailer 
4.5 stars. Rated PG-13, for dramatic intensity, occasional coarse language and fleeting drug content
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 6.26.15

Little movies, absent shrieking publicity campaigns, have the potential to become unexpected treasures ... and this is one of the best I’ve seen in awhile.

After dryly dispensing another nugget of bewildering, utterly useless "advice," Greg's
father (Nick Offerman, center) offers his newest culinary nightmare — pig's feet — to
Greg (Thomas Mann, right) and Earl (RJ Cyler)

Every generation gets its share of heartfelt dramas purporting to reflect the high school experience; some become classics, embraced by their target audiences due to a savvy blend of snarky wit and often uncomfortable intimacy. The modern cycle probably began with Fast Times at Ridgemont High and The Breakfast Club, while more recent examples include Juno, Rocket Science and The Perks of Being a Wallflower.

Director Alfonso Gomez-Rejon’s touching rendition of Jesse Andrews’ impressive writing debut — the Salinger-esque young adult novel, Me and Earl and the Dying Girl — belongs in their company. With the leaders of the pack.

Andrews has adapted his own book here, and it’s hard to know where to begin, with respect to the film’s many highlights. The casting is excellent, from the spot-on main characters to the off-center adults orbiting around them: the latter a droll touch, since teens always believe that adults inhabit an entirely different universe.

The dialogue is sharp and well delivered, the mordant, angst-ridden tone a painful reminder of high school disenfranchisement. This is also one of very few films to make excellent use of its main character’s off-camera commentary: reflections and asides — complete with narrative subtitles — that genuinely advance the storyline, as opposed to merely re-stating the obvious.

My favorite bit, though, has to be Andrews’ scathing, drop-dead-perfect description of high school’s clique-ish nature, as explained by the morose Greg Gaines (Thomas Mann), a quiet, withdrawn kid who has made an art of navigating the social minefield by remaining as anonymous as possible. I couldn’t begin to do justice to Greg’s dissection of his school’s various factions, and paragraphs would be wasted in a failed attempt.

Besides which, that would spoil your delight upon hearing this discerning, mocking analysis from Greg’s own lips.

If I Stay: Existential angst

If I Stay (2014) • View trailer 
3.5 stars. Rated PG-13, for dramatic intensity and sexual candor
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 8.22.14

We certainly can’t imagine what it would be like, for a soul stalled between life and death — the likely wealth of conflicting emotions at play — but Chloë Grace Moretz makes a persuasive case.

In the aftermath of a horrific accident, Mia (Chloë Grace Moretz) gradually realizes that her
soul remains in limbo, able to watch but not affect the efforts being made to save her
comatose body, which hovers near death in a hospital bed.

As the young star of director R.J. Cutler’s adaptation of Gayle Forman’s enormously popular young adult novel, Moretz is a memorably tragic heroine: engagingly shy and vulnerable, winsomely sweet, undecided in the ways we all remember from our high school years, and then forced to confront a horrific tragedy that, inexplicably, places her in a position to make an almost impossible decision.

The question is the degree to which we get involved with her unusual plight.

Forman’s book is yet another entry in the currently popular sub-genre of “doomed youth” sagas, many recently adapted to the big screen, several of them this year. The current leader of the pack obviously is John Green’s The Fault in Our Stars, but we also can point to Tim Tharp’s The Spectacular Now, John Boyne’s The Boy in the Striped Pajamas and several books by Nicholas Sparks, among others.

Although this trend seems somewhat masochistic, I suppose enjoying a good cry is a lot healthier than wallowing in a gory slasher flick.

The book has been carefully and sensitively handled by scripter Shauna Cross, who came to our attention after adapting her own novel Derby Girl into 2009’s under-appreciated roller-derby drama, Whip It, which gave Ellen Page a similarly endearing character arc. “If I Stay” has the added benefit of strong casting in all the supporting roles, and I’m sure Cutler had a hand in that, given his position as one of the executive producers of TV’s sharply assembled Nashville.

Moretz’s Mia Hall is a school misfit: a quiet outcast who assigned herself that role, due to a (probably justified) concern that her peers wouldn’t think much of a girl who prefers the cello, Yo-Yo Ma and Beethoven to electric guitar and the gyrations of the newest “it” band. Mia also is something of an anomaly at home: Her father, Denny (Joshua Leonard), was the drummer in a punk band before becoming a teacher; her mother, Kat (Mireille Enos), was the ultimate groupie-turned-wife, who carted Mia to gigs as a toddler and reveres tough rock chicks like Deborah Harry.

And Mia’s little brother, Teddy (Jakob Davies), idolizes Iggy Pop.

Not that anybody in Mia’s family makes her feel like an outsider. Denny and Kat are warm, supportive, tolerant and wise ... frankly, the best parents anybody could imagine. But they don’t look, feel or sound like impossibly ideal archetypes; armed with Cross’ note-perfect dialogue, and assisted by Cutler’s deft direction, Leonard and Enos simply emerge as caring adults who relate to their daughter’s angst because, well, they never quite abandoned their own anti-establishment younger selves.

This story comes armed with several moral imperatives, including this biggie: To thine own self be true. Denny and Kat know this.

Moonrise Kingdom: Casts a gentle glow

Moonrise Kingdom (2012) • View trailer
3.5 stars. Rating: PG-13, and needlessly, for fleeting profanity
By Derrick Bang

All kids — particularly those who read books — dream of having adventures in faraway lands, ideally with exotic companions. Adults rarely figure into such fantasies, except as vague background entities, and the imagined adventures generally exist in a heightened reality that might look familiar, but isn’t quite our workaday world.

Having ditched the adults in their lives, Suzy (Kara Hayward) and
Sam (Jared Gilman) ponder a map of tiny New Penzance island, to
work out the best route to a sheltered cove that will become their
runaway home from home. Sam, you'll notice, is properly equipped
for a long hike. Suzy ... not so much.

We grow up, we get “serious” — not always a good thing — and cast aside such childhood reveries.

Clearly, filmmaker Wes Anderson escaped that fate and remains firmly in touch with his inner child. Moonrise Kingdom offers ample proof: It’s a droll, stylized, kid-oriented fable about misfits, underdogs and blossoming young love. By turns adorable and unapologetically weird, this film nonetheless charms from beginning to end.

That’s not always the case with Anderson’s eclectic oeuvre. Every engaging hit (Rushmore, The Royal Tenenbaums) has been followed by self-indulgent junk that verges on the unwatchable (The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou, The Darjeeling Limited). That’s an occupational hazard for a filmmaker so clearly obsessed with exaggerated characters who play out their anxieties in tightly enclosed little worlds that can tilt far left of center.

Greet a neighbor cheerfully on an average morning; if he regards you gravely and replies, a propos of nothing, that the howling wolves kept him awake last night — and the nearest wolf is hundreds of miles away — then you’re dealing with a Wes Anderson character.

Suzy Bishop (Kara Hayward) and Sam Shakusky (Jared Gilman), both 12 years old, live on New Penzance, a tiny island off the coast of New England. The year is 1965, as an on-camera narrator (Bob Balaban) meticulously informs us, and we’re a few days away from a cataclysmic storm that will wreak havoc along the entire coast.

Although precociously intelligent and a gifted camper and woodsman, Sam — an orphan — is dismissed as an outcast, constantly humiliated by the other kids in his foster home. Even as a Khaki Scout, in an element where he should shine, Sam is taunted by his young peers.

Scoutmaster Ward (Edward Norton) clearly has a soft spot for Sam, but that’s not enough to prevent the boy from feeling isolated and deeply lonely.

Easy A: High Marks

Easy A (2010) • View trailer for Easy A
3.5 stars (out of five). Rated PG-13 for profanity and sexual candor, all involving teens
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in the The Davis Enterprise, 09.16.10
Buy DVD: Easy A • Buy Blu-Ray: Easy A [Blu-ray]

Bert V. Royal based his screenplay on one of my favorite mordant sayings:

If you get saddled with a reputation, you may as well live up to it.

Royal's snarky script and the effervescent Emma Stone are the chief delights in Easy A, an engaging, teen-oriented riff on Nathaniel Hawthorne's The Scarlet Letter. The light comedy speaks volumes about the elusive nature of popularity, high school cliques and unintended consequences.

Mostly, though, it's a choice starring showcase for Stone, who deftly fulfills the promise of her stand-out supporting performance in last year's Zombieland. She's a natural on camera, with a radiant smile and perky disposition that serve her well as this saga's underdog heroine.

Having embraced the dark and slutty side that everybody seems to 
expect, Olive (Emma Stone, right) takes great pleasure in making the
insufferably judgmental Marianne (Amanda Bynes) as uncomfortable 
as possible. Alas, peer pressure eventually will have its consequences.

She also has deft comedy chops and a finely honed sense of line readings, holding her own during witty repartee with a supporting cast of scene-stealers that includes Stanley Tucci, Patricia Clarkson, Thomas Haden Church and Lisa Kudrow. That's an impressive roster for a lightweight late-summer entry: all the more reason this film is a delightful surprise.

Stone stars as Olive Penderghast, a whip-smart student at Ojai High School who pales somewhat in the shadow of best friend Rhiannon (Aly Michalka, of the pop duo Aly and A.J.). Olive enjoys lively banter with her favorite teacher, Mr. Griffith (Church), although her academic prowess seems to have left her something of an outcast in the popularity and boyfriend departments.

We'll have to limit ourselves to raised eyebrows over the notion that a knockout like Stone wouldn't have boys lined up at her high school locker, but hey: That's Hollywood.

Flipped: Engaging points of view

Flipped (2010) • View trailer for Flipped
3.5 stars (out of five). Rating: PG, for no particular reason
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 8.12.10
Buy DVD: Flipped • Buy Blu-Ray: Flipped [Blu-ray]

Girls know these things. 

A second-grade girl can meet a boy her own age and know it's love at first sight: deep, passionate, swooning love that, if properly nurtured, could stand the test of time. 

Second-grade boys, totally clueless, invariably miss getting struck by Cupid's bolts. 

More's the pity. 

After raising chickens as a classroom project, Juli (Madeline Carroll) discovers
she can make some extra money by selling eggs. She wouldn't think of
charging Bryce (Callan McAuliffe) and his family, though, because she has
been sweet on him for years. But this act of generosity becomes a catastrophe
when Bryce's father rather arbitrarily demands that the eggs be returned,
uneaten ... and the boy can't figure out how to obey that edict without hurting
Juli's feelings.

Director Rob Reiner's generally engaging adaptation of Wendelin Van Draanen's Flipped will be enjoyed by anybody with fond memories of television's The Wonder Years. Reiner's film — he also co-wrote the screenplay, with Andrew Scheinman — hearkens back to the sensitive touch he brought to 1986's Stand by Me, a different sort of coming-of-all saga. 

This new film evokes a similar time period: the transition from the Eisenhower '50s to the Kennedy '60s. Children still are polite to their elders, families customarily dress up for dinner in their own homes, fathers are the de facto heads of the household — even if they don't deserve the role — and rock 'n' roll hasn't yet moved beyond the innocence of bubble-gum boy bands and girl groups. 

And assertive girls are branded tomboys and regarded as "strange." 

That label certainly fits young Juli Baker, immediately struck by Bryce Loski's gorgeous eyes when his family moves into the house across the street, in the sort of bucolic neighborhood that seems to exist only in fading memories. Juli boldly insinuates herself into Bryce's life, much to the wary amusement of the boy's father, Steven (Anthony Edwards). 

Bryce wants nothing to do with this pushy girl, but his disinterest only emboldens her further. School life for a second-grade boy stalked by a girl becomes a living hell. 

The gimmick employed by this film is a classic "he said/she said" depiction of events: We first witness Bryce's point of view, accompanied by his voice-over. This continues through a series of encounters — sometimes lasting weeks and months, sometimes only hours and days — and then the clock is re-wound to allow Juli's version. 

Specific developments occur the same way — both kids are reliable narrators — but the emphasis shifts. Juli reads more into something Bryce regards as a casual comment; he perceives her constant attention as intrusive and freakish, whereas she believes herself merely devoted. Expressions and body language change, as well, depending on who's telling the story. 

The Karate Kid: Quite a kick

The Karate Kid (2010) • View trailer for The Karate Kid
Four stars (out of five). Rating: PG, for quite realistic bullying and martial arts violence
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 6.17.10
Buy DVD: The Karate Kid • Buy Blu-Ray: The Karate Kid (Two-Disc Blu-ray/DVD Combo + Digital Copy)


The original Karate Kid was a can't-miss hit that became the empowerment film for kids who first saw it back in 1984, and then embraced it with the devotion that young Ralph Macchio applied to his training with Pat Morita's wise and patient Mr. Miyagi.

Two steadily diminishing sequels were inevitable, although the subsequent TV cartoon series was a mistake, as was a 1994 gender-switching attempt to revive the franchise, with then-young Hilary Swank taking over the title role. (That film's failure wasn't her fault, I hasten to add.)

When young Dre (Jaden Smith, left) finally persuades the taciturn Mr. Han
(Jackie Chan) to instruct him in the ways of martial arts, the boy expects a
series of showy, dynamic lessons. He's dismayed to discover that -- like a
musician who endures months of scales before tackling symphonies -- he first
must survive a series of bizarre and grueling exercises.

Then things went quiet until now, when Sony Pictures and director Harald Zwart decided that a new generation was ready for its own young martial-arts underdog.

The result, once again simply titled The Karate Kid, is every bit as well crafted, engaging and exhilarating as its quarter-century-old ancestor. Credit goes to Christopher Murphey's solid script, based on the original 1984 story by Robert Mark Kamen, but this new film gets most of its charm from a strong and personable cast, most particularly Jaden Smith and Jackie Chan, quite successfully stepping in for Macchio and Morita.

All the elements that contributed to the first film's success remain in play, and the formula is sure-fire. Most of us have felt picked-upon at some point in our lives — with the possible exception of the career thugs doing the taunting — and Smith makes it easy to identify with his tormented Dre Parker.

The young actor is physically slight to begin with, and he's an adorably beguiling presence, which he proved when sharing the screen a few years ago with his father, Will Smith, in The Pursuit of Happyness.

The setting of this re-booted saga has been shifted to China, a clever touch that increases the sense of alienation and loneliness experienced by Dre, when his widowed mother, Sherry (Taraji P. Henson, excellent as always), is forced to move them from the States because of her career. Culture shock isn't the half of it; Dre was a popular kid in his Detroit neighborhood, and in China he's a curiosity because of the color of his skin and the styling of his hair, and an outcast because the language and customs are impenetrable.

Such a newcomer is bound to run afoul of the local bullies.

The Last Song: Slightly off-key

The Last Song (2010) • View trailer for The Last Song
Three stars (out of five). Rating: PG, for no particular reason
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 4.2.10
Buy DVD: The Last Song • Buy Blu-Ray: The Last Song (Two-Disc Blu-ray/DVD Combo)


I suppose this could be viewed as a back-handed compliment, but the fact is inescapable: Miley Cyrus lacks the acting chops to play a credible bad girl.

That's a bit of a problem, because this big-screen adaptation of Nicholas Sparks' The Last Song demands that Cyrus' Ronnie Miller be quite the little bee-yatch in the first act ... and she simply can't pull it off. The film grinds to a thumping halt every time she tries to be unpleasant; it's like an acting exercise, with a novice thespian pretending to be disagreeable ... and it simply doesn't work.

Having rejoined the human race, and finally flashing the smile that helped earn
Miley Cyrus an acting career, Ronnie shyly warms to her father's (Greg
Kinnear) patient overtures ... no doubt because she's as happy as a young girl
in love could be. Hang onto the good feeling, Ronnie, because it never
lasts in a Nicholas Sparks story!

On the other hand, the fault may lie with director Julie Ann Robinson, who fluffs several other key scenes in this film, a few of which have nothing to do with Cyrus. Robinson has a boatload of episodic TV experience — including Grey's Anatomy, Big Love and Pushing Daisies — so she obviously knows her craft; the question, then, is whether she can coax persuasive performances out of untrained actors.

The evidence would suggest not.

Greg Kinnear, who plays Ronnie's father, Steve, is this film's strongest asset; his work is delicate, sensitive and wryly humorous by turns. He acts circles around Cyrus ... and so does little Bobby Coleman (The Martian Child), who plays Ronnie's younger brother, Jonah. He's impressively endearing.

Because this is Nicholas Sparks territory, we can expect a scenario involving attractive romantic leads with troubled lives, who meet, fall in love and then find their blossoming relationship sabotaged by assorted contrived plot devices.

The Last Song certainly is no different; we open with divorced parents and troubled teens, move on to a sidebar issue involving an atrociously abusive boyfriend, digress momentarily with a dysfunctional family rent asunder by the tragic death of a child, and then build to the narrative's Heartbreaking Big Surprise (a "surprise" only to those not paying attention).

Oh, and we can't overlook the church fire that serves as a prologue, and generates its own whiff of intrigue: Was it arson? And, if so, by whom?

Whip It: A true whip-snorter

Whip It (2009) • View trailer for Whip It
Four stars (out of five). Rating: PG-13, for profanity, drug references and sensuality
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 10.1.09
Buy DVD: Whip It• Buy Blu-Ray: Capitalism: Whip It [Blu-ray]


OK, this is the most fun you can have on eight wheels.

Drew Barrymore makes a smashing directorial debut with Whip It, one of the best misfit underdog sagas in recent memory ... and mind you, we've seen quite a few lately.

Having earned a nickname -- Babe Ruthless -- and a place on the Hurl Scouts
roller derby team, Bliss (Ellen Page, center) prepares for a competitive move
with the assistance of teammates Smashley Simpson (Drew Barrymore, left)
and Maggie Mayhem (Kristen Wiig).

The highly entertaining roller derby-oriented drama is deftly adapted by author and former Los Angeles Derby Doll Shauna Cross from her own novel, which just landed on my must-read pile. The reason: Given the pains Cross takes to flesh out every character in this script, her book must be even better.

In fairness, Barrymore and the cast also deserve a lot of credit. Rarely will you find so many parts filled so perfectly, and casting directors Justine Baddeley and Kim Davis-Wagner deserve a standing ovation of their own. Consider: Once our mousy young heroine decides to re-invent herself as a roller-skating, bad-ass wannabe, who else but Juliette Lewis should play the snarling skate-babe who causes the most grief?

More than anything else, though, Barrymore and star Ellen Page — delivering even more on the promise she showed in Hard Candy and Juno — are to be congratulated for playing straight with a subject that invites the same reflexive howls of derision usually reserved for TV wrestling bouts. The "sport" of roller derby, generally little more than a punchline, certainly didn't gain any respect in the wake of the only other high-profile Hollywood production that leaps to mind, 1972's hilariously inept Kansas City Bomber. (Raquel Welch on skates. What more need be said?)

Barrymore and Cross obviously intended to change that perception, and they succeed with a heart-tugging first act that makes us embrace all the key players before roller skates are even seen, let alone worn.

Page stars as 17-year-old Bliss Cavendar, a shy and introverted girl whose life in the truck-stop town of Bodeen, Texas, swings between two ghastly extremes: waitressing at the Oink Joint, home of "The Squealer" — a massive sandwich that remains free of charge for any diner able to consume it in less than 3 minutes — and dressing up in cotillion-style gowns to please her beauty pageant-obsessed mother, Brooke (Marcia Gay Harden), who dreams of seeing the Miss Blue Bonnet Pageant crown on her elder daughter's head.

No doubt about it: Life is hell.

There are compensations. Bliss' easy-going father (Daniel Stern, as Earl) is the laid-back yin to her mother's uptight yang, and he has a few surprises buried within his still waters. In a film laden with sweet moments, one of the best is a father/daughter chat that occurs after Bliss discovers one of Earl's best-kept secrets: a revelation that is sweet in its own right.