Talk about going from bad to worse —
As my last review no doubt made crystal clear, I was in no way enamored with Franco Zeffirelli’s 1981 cinematic adaptation of Scott Spencer’s Harlequin-novel-on-bad-acid Endless Love, but measured against what director Shana Feste did with (essentially) the same story in 2014, it’s fucking Citizen Kane. Sure, much of the book’s subject matter had either been neutered or twisted into new and unrecognizable (yet somehow decidedly less interesting) shapes, but damn — giving it the Nicholas Sparks treatment is just beyond the pale, and that’s exactly what this hollow, insipid, worthless remake does.
Probably to reduce confusion with (or an injunction from) President Obama’s political adviser of the same name, our David this time out hails from the Elliot rather than the Axelrod family tree, and while the actor who plays him, an empty shell named Alex Pettyfer, certainly looks a good few years older than the “new” version of Jade Butterfield ( played by the equally-vacuous Gabriella Wilde), the whole “age difference” thing isn’t really at the fore of why her parents, Hugh (the always-underrated Bruce Greenwood, who is at his scenery-chewing best here and represents the only real reason to see the film) and Anne (an uncharacteristically detached Joely Richardson) despise him so — still, it’s fun to read that concern into the proceedings simply because their real reasons are overly- oblique to the point of being well and truly dull. Mom, at it turns out, is just envious of their “true love” at the end of the day, while dad is reeling from his inability to somehow save his dying son and the guilt he feels at carrying on an affair behind his old lady’s back and is just taking it out on this poor let’s-not-call-him-a-kid because he doesn’t want to “lose” his daughter on top of everything else.
Bored yet? You should be. Because any elements of “danger” that may have been lost in translation between the book and the first film are paved over altogether this time around, and what we’re left with is a story about a flawed-but-nice girl who meets a flawed-but-nice guy and if daddy would just learn to let his little girl be happy with the man she loves — well, she’d go off and be happy with the man she loves. But she’d still love her family, too. Why can’t grown-ups ever seem to understand that?
Feste’s directorial “style” can best be summed up as “Lifetime TV movie of the week with too many damn ‘soft-focus’ shots,” and while I’ve never subjected myself to pablum like The Notebook or Safe Haven, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that sort of dreck was the main influence on this thing. Feste co-wrote the screenplay for this rehash with Joshua Safran, and while the two of them try to “flesh out” Jade’s character a bit more by giving her a bit of a “past,” and go for a more slow-burn effect in terms of spacing out the so-called “revelations” about David, none of it is in any way involving simply because Pettyfer and Wilde are both such flat, wooden performers. When you hire on the basis of looks and looks alone, folks, this is what you get, and while throwing in a little bit of internal “can I really trust this person?” relationship tension I guess makes this version of the story more “realistic” to modern audiences — at least that’s the intention — you still have to give a damn about the characters in the first place before you can give a damn about what happens to them, and that’s something that Endless Love circa 2014, to an even greater degree than its predecessor, never figures out.
I’ll give the “creators” of this film credit for engineering a somewhat more believable means of introducing our two leads in the first place, I guess, but that’s about it — beyond that 2014’s updating of Endless Love feels almost like a modern-day romance flick produced by Harry “NyQuil” Novak, only Harry would throw out a threadbare “plot” in order to string together some sort of logical reason for why his performers would go from one dull, “point-and-shoot” sex scene to another, while here the “story” exists for the sole purpose of moving the lead models (it’s really not even fair to call them “actors”) from one Calvin Klein fragrance commercial to another.
And on that note, I think I’ve said enough — hell, more than enough. I want to wish any and all of you valued readers out there a happy and romantic Valentine’s Day, and I implore you to please not spoil the occasion by watching either version of Endless Love — especially not this one.
In closing, let me offer (not that I’m anything like an expert on the subject) these humble words of wisdom when it comes to matters of the heart : true love may be eternal, sure, but it’s definitely not endless — and no, the difference between the two isn’t just a matter of semantics.