My acting career isn’t a fluke: Cara Delevingne | News Entertainment

My acting career isn’t a fluke: Cara Delevingne

24 Jul 2015 | Author: | No comments yet »

‘Paper Towns’ movie review: Adaptation of John Green’s YA best-seller is smart and soulful.

‘Paper Towns” is based on a 2008 young adult novel by John Green, author of “The Fault in Our Stars.” That novel’s 2014 film version was a big surprise hit, co-starring Shailene Woodley and Ansel Elgort.The 109-minute movie “Paper Towns” all too often seems inert, even as it condenses clues to its core puzzle about an 18-year-old girl’s whereabouts.In the acknowledgments to his novel Paper Towns, John Green recognizes Jon Krakauer’s Into the Wild as a “particularly helpful” book about disappearance.This film of author John Green’s 2008 YA bestseller may throw off the author’s legion of fans by stripping its story of some inessential elements, but it does so for the right reasons.

Indeed, the 1996 non-fiction account tells the story of California native Christopher McCandless who, after graduating from Emory University, donated his savings to Oxfam and effectively disappeared, hitchhiking to Alaska under the moniker Alexander Supertramp for an inspiring, though ill-fated, period of solitude. The satisfying result is a little like “Breaking Away” (1979), along with a dash of John Hughes and an appreciation for life’s big and small transitions.

Not a whole lot, at least in “Paper Towns,” a serenely bland adaptation of the John Green young-adult novel about a regular boy in love with the mystery girl next door. Once upon a Hollywood time, when American adolescents were in the grip of social mores and studio censorship, nice guys wooed nice gals with boyish smiles, well-behaved hands and tamped-down desires. One night Margo, whose quirky, sorta bad-girl-ness is a fixation among her Orlando classmates, enlists “Q” to help her in some revenge pranks against pals and an ex-BF who’ve wronged her.

The narrator and audience proxy is Quentin Jacobson (Nat Wolff), Q for short, who opens up the story by explaining that he thinks everyone gets a miracle. But the precocious beauty whose disappearance sets the plot in motion — a myth of a girl named Margo — is the kind of character who actually improves a movie by vanishing. Even literate voiceovers (this one isn’t so much) telegraph that we’re in for safe if dark ironies and rueful platitudes that inevitably resolve in some glib life lesson.

In his case that would be Margo Roth Spiegelman (the model Cara Delevingne), one of those women — guide, muse or free spirit, she comes in flavors as varied as Pocahontas, Zelda and Tinker Bell — who aid men on their journeys, metaphysical and literal. Directed by Jake Schreier, Paper Towns finds Fault’s Nat Wolff upped to a lead role as the lovelorn Quentin Jacobsen, who has spent most of his life transfixed by the charismatic Margo (played by model Cara Delevingne, who – sorry, haters – is, for all intents and purposes, Margo), his best friend from the age of 10 until high school, when he was unceremoniously dropped once the caste system was sorted. Quentin and Margo and their friends, including Quentin’s buddies Ben (Austin Abrams) and Radar (Justice Smith), are in a tizzy about prom, especially Radar, since he is the only one of the three guys with an actual girlfriend, a fellow senior named Angela (Jaz Sinclair). Like another bard of middle-class high school drama, filmmaker John Hughes, Green gives teens credit for having a rich interior life, and that’s a worthy endeavor. At times they break out of stereotype and tap into those magic adolescent moments like the ecstasy of finding out the person you have a crush on might actually like you, or the satisfying cynicism of thinking you are the first one to disdain conformity, or the delight and tragedy of leaving the sameness of high school and your bevy of clever friends for college.

Years later, after they’ve grown apart and are on the verge of graduating from high school, Q remains under Margo’s spell and she’s actually noticed him again. Along with Margo’s friend Lacey (Halston Sage) and Radar’s girlfriend Angela (a radiant Jaz Sinclair), he drives cross-country to a “paper town,” a city on a map rumored to be fictitious. Unfortunately, in the translation to screen, articulate often becomes pretentious, and Margo’s world weariness is never given a motivation apart from a 30-second scene of her hand-wringing parents. Green’s favorite sentence appears to be, “Wait … what?” I did not feel any connection between Margo and Quentin in the way that I felt Woodley and Elgort connected in the 2014 film. One night, as their senior year is winding down, Margo invites Quentin to join her on a clandestine adventure that will require him borrowing his parents’ van.

Stuck with commentary duties, Nat Wolff (the friend with the glass eye in “Fault”) otherwise makes a credible case for Quentin, or “Q,” the smitten, romantic, uncool high school loser. But as he sets out to unravel the mystery of her escape, Quentin realizes that in order to find Margo he has to remove her from the pedestal and see her for who she really is. They deliver payback Margo style (silly vandalism and embarrassing pranks), and make it back home without being punched by the victims or collared by the police, but she doesn’t show up for school the next day. It’s a passage that starts in childhood, when Margo and Q find a dead body (she creeps toward it while he recoils), and lurches forward in adolescence after Margo vanishes, leaving what look like clues in her wake. And to this effect, the innocent trio of Wolff, Abrams and Smith is the right combination of sweet and painfully awkward as they banter over video games and belt out the Pokémon theme song.

Seeing Margo as an idea and ideal (and himself as a savior), Q seizes on the clues — scattered in books of poetry and in more prosaic locations — in a search of a woman who leads him straight to, as is often the case, himself. The problem, though, is that the mystery that was the book’s impetus is simply not present in its big-screen adaptation, snatching away all urgency and finding a wooden Quentin going through the motions.

When Q and his friends discuss girls over a game console or bond over the singing of a Pokemon song, their Musketeer-like camaraderie is convincing, or at least as much as a PG-13-rated conversation between adolescent males can be. Comparing movies with their literary sources isn’t always useful, but it’s instructive that while the book validates Q’s ordinariness, the movie tries to obscure it.

Margo’s trail of breadcrumbs is all but served on a plate in the film, and for someone supposedly risking it all (or, at least, perfect attendance and prom) for the girl of his dreams, Wolff’s Quentin is pretty unperturbed. This one is less so, with a cultural shadow that is not as long. “Fault” had more star power and bravery, but “Paper Towns” respects the characters and core audience just as much. I can’t blame Delevingne, a model who is transitioning to film acting, for Margo’s troubles as a character — she delivers fortune cookie lines like, “You have to get lost before you find yourself,” with conviction, and her raspy voice and power eyebrows communicate just the right amount of danger for Orlando.

When Margo leads Q on a night of mischief at the expense of some disloyal friends, it shakes Q out of his comfort zone and sends Margo into a spell of self-seriousness, as she stares glumly over the skyline bemoaning her “paper town with paper people.” The movie’s title is a reference to a cartographer’s term for a fake place that exists only to catch copycat mapmakers, and a central theme in “Paper Towns” is learning to discern the authentic from the affected and the real from the idealized. Then one night she climbs into his bedroom window and takes him on what he regards as a liberating adventure, but others might diagnose as the deranged acts of a sociopathic narcissist. The only significant character who isn’t immediately “relatable” (a noxious industry mantra and the most damaging word in American cinema) is Margo, a prickly, complex object of desire who rejects the world that Q embraces. “I do believe in college,” he quietly assures himself, after Margo goes on a mild anti-establishment harangue. The good news is, she disappears the next morning, and Q’s efforts to find her take on a satisfying Sherlockian vibe, as clues come in the form of old maps, folk records and Walt Whitman poems.

Quentin enlists his pals – among them uptight black kid Ben (Austin Abrams, by the end a dryly funny personality) and puerile Radar (Justice Smith, whose crassness turns sweet) – on a quest that is a cross between a pointless scavenger hunt and “The Wizard of Oz.” It is contrived and probably meaningless, but it brings these kids to life. No movie has to be slavishly faithful to it source, and that’s not why “Paper Towns” (taking its title, in part, from a mapmaker’s trick designed to protect against copyright infringement) never takes flight. As summer and college await, they wind their way up the East Coast to the beat of a mood-boosting indie rock soundtrack, their romantic tensions and roadside high jinks carrying the bittersweetness of a last adventure. It fails to give moviegoers a robust portrait of Margo, even in all her confusion and uncertainty, and doesn’t fully explore the book’s themes and multiple metaphors about being connected and seeing others for who they are.

It seems unlikely anybody’s mom will get angry about “Paper Towns.” Rarer still is a studio movie for young adults that concerns itself not with vampires or the apocalypse but with the mundane matters of the heart. Pausing pregnantly between clauses to add to their trite profundity, Quentin recites the moral of the story, and it’s as phony as the towns of the title. That struggle is evident in the wall-to-wall pop songs that make it seem as if someone hired a D.J. to get the party going and, in particular, in the almost tic-like overuse of slow motion, a stylistic cliché that, intentionally or not, suggests Q has already begun packaging these moments of modest excitement into memories as they happen.

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