-
All 710 Reviews Written By
-
Latest Reviews
- If a Tree Falls
- The Names of Love
- Café
- Hell and Back Again
- The Other F Word
- Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy
- The Artist
- Dirty Girl
- People in the Sun
- The Descendants
- Boy Wonder
- Like Crazy
- Roadie
- The Black Power Mixtape
- Traceless
- Thurgood
- The Iron Lady
- Young Adult
- Dusk
- Perfect Sense
- Becoming Chaz
- Kill List
- Nobody Else But You
- The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo
- Carnage
- A Lonely Place to Die
- Hugh Hefner: Playboy, Activist and Rebel
- The Quiz Show Scandal
- Rampart
- Some Guy Who Kills People
- The Weird World of Blowfly
- The Debt
- Blind
- Troll Hunter
- The Ides of March
- Rare Exports: A Christmas Tale
- A Separation
- The Skin I Live In
- Moneyball
- We Need to Talk About Kevin
-
-
Recent 'n' Decent
Like Crazy (6/10)
Quite the smash at Sundance last year, Like Crazy gives us the story of two lovers separated by an ocean and a visa. An English girl falls for an American she met in a Los Angeles college, they fall in love, and she remains in the country while her student visa expires. She returns to England, only to then be denied entry back to the warm bosom of the United States and the hairless chest of her young lover.
Anna is the English girl and she’s played by Felicity Jones, an actress I’ve mentioned a few times on this site. Triumphantly free from generally poor British comedies, she is stunning here. I’m delighted for her, and I hope fervently that it will springboard her on to bigger and better things. Anna is a complicated, romantic soul, who falls for Jacob (Anton Yelchin) big-time, though I’m not entirely sure why. Jacob is a typical early twenties guy, the type who’ll say anything (and genuinely believes the things he says) in order to keep a girl happy. Anna writes love letters and diaries to him; he buys her a chair.
The decision is made. She has to go home once summer is over, but if she could just stay in America a teensy bit longer the couple can do what young couples do, repeatedly. The inevitable happens, and she is deported back to England. Jacob by now has a little business for himself in Los Angeles, so can’t just down tools (literally) and jet off to Blighty. Problems, problems.
On the whole I rather enjoyed Like Crazy, although I couldn’t escape the nagging question that lurked in the back of my head. Namely, would we care about this couple were she not an archetypal English rose but instead a Mexican? Or black? What about a Muslim? (Or all three: what a movie that’d be!) Try to put that to the back of your mind, though, and concentrate on the story, which is rather good, and quite believable. Both Anna and Jacob (especially Jacob) do things they’ll not be proud of as they reflect back on their lives, including experimenting with other partners (Jennifer Lawrence for Jacob, Charlie Bewley for Anna). You might feel, as I did, that these were better pairings than the central couple are.
Yes, you won’t experience a great deal of hope for Anna and Jacob, particularly when you see what the pair get up to when apart from each other. This, though, I found fascinating and believable. Jacob, being a bloke, hops into bed with the first person he finds. Anna, sensible girl from sensible, Balderdash-loving stock that she is, concentrates on her career and a way to get back to America. It’s important to remember that although Anna cannot return to America, that doesn’t mean that she cannot either see Jacob again or be with him again. The fact that they spend so much time apart is the crux of the story, and its most interesting part.
This is director/co-writer Drake Doremus’ sixth film, and it’s plain for all to see that he has talent and a leaning towards effective indie imagery. He uses the camera to tell stories with great poetry, an empty chair saying more than words could. There’s a great deal to like in Like Crazy, which covers up its traditional love story in fancy wrapping and realistic decision-making; it’s just a bit of a shame that I didn’t, ultimately, care too much whether Anna and Jacob will be happy ever after.

