The Last Song
While Cyrus appears self-conscious as a dramatic actress, there's no denying her screen presence.
The Notebook's author Nicholas Sparks has had another one of his romantic weepies adapted for the big screen, and this time it's both the non-Hannah Montana film debut of Miley Cyrus, and the first feature for British television director Julie Anne Robinson.
It's then a bitter disappointment that the BAFTA-winning Robinson has failed to elevate this coming-of-age drama anything beyond lacklustre. With a wafer-thin plot, most of the storytelling is to be found in contrived situations - for example, baby turtles are a huge plot point. However, Robinson fails to find any natural humour or genuine warmth in these moments.
Cyrus plays sulky misunderstood 17-year-old Ronnie, big sister to mop-haired poppet Jonah (Bobby Coleman), and estranged daughter to Steve (the ever likeable Greg Kinnear, with the power to make any film watchable). Divorced mum Kelly Preston ships the kids to Steve's Georgia beachfront home for the summer, where we learn that dad is burdened with several secrets and Ronnie is going through a trying rebellious phase, which includes not accepting her place at Julliard, dammit.
But this isn't a just a father/daughter drama, which would've been infinitely preferable to the hackneyed love story that follows. Ronnie meets Will, a charisma-free Liam Hemsworth who proves his worth as a boyfriend by taking his top off a lot, caring for those damn turtles and being rich. The Notebook's struggles with class issues were completely believable for the time period, but the snooty parents here are ridiculous parodies. Ronnie's vegetarianism and reluctance to be shipped off to college so soon are apparently eyebrow-raising horrors.
When Will's fellow rich girls butt their noses in army bootclad Ronnie's soppy relationship (omgz, they write on each others' Converse!), there follows a succession of storming-off sequences. But don't worry girls, all you need to repair a relationship based on mistrust is for your beefy bloke to sweep you up into a passionate embrace. The subplot scenes featuring her warped friendship with Carly Chaikin's screwed up drifter Blaze are the most interesting, making the love story ironically the worst part of this film.
Cyrus wrings as much as she can out of her one-dimensional character, to her great credit. While she appears slightly self-conscious as a dramatic actress, there's no denying her screen presence. Kinnear thankfully carries the last half, which descends into full-blown manipulative weepie, with a predictable ending. A film with no discernible merit, it portrays an utterly unconvincing and intolerable account of first love - unlucky for a movie which is clearly meant to show a great romance. It's neither gloriously fantastical enough to overlook the niggles, nor brutally real for a dramatic effect - an inept and unlikeable life example for young girls. Parents, please encourage your daughters to see Whip It instead.
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