Directed By Castille Landon

Starring – Josephine Langford, Hero Fiennes Tiffin, Louise Lombard

The Plot – Just as Tessa (Langford) makes the biggest decision of her life, everything changes. Revelations about her family, and then Hardin’s (Tiffin), throw everything they knew before in doubt and makes their hard-won future together more difficult to claim.

Rated R for sexual content and adult language

After We Fell | Official Trailer | Prime Video – YouTube

POSITIVES

– Smooth presentation. At the very least, this film is trying with a vibrantly rich canvas and allure of sleek visuals that gives the aesthetics a taste of upper class elegance. This not only enhances the appeal of its world-building and corresponding love story while offering escapism in the documentation of intoxication that we are afforded seamlessly, but also cements a luxuriously texture for the young adult subgenre that no other film under this umbrella can touch in terms of purely beautiful consistency. Because of such, there are no glaring problems with the narrative from a technical perspective, as the production brings to life the radiance and ambiance of the novels accordingly, while conjuring up a lush and lavish cinematography from Rob Givens and Joshua Reis that immerses us consistently without feeling distracting to the beats of the storytelling.

– Shamelessly entertaining. While I don’t agree with a majority of what is taking shape here, I can certainly understand the depth of its appeal, which cements a movie too bizarre to be boring, and too campy to take seriously. I compare it to something like Taco Bell, in that we know it’s bad for us and anyone else forced to share a room with us, but it still nourishes us with cheesy familiarity that is bound to catch up, and enough hot air that calms us after a build up of convoluted calories. That sounds like a back-handed compliment, but there was never a moment with “After We Fell” that didn’t deliver on everything promised during a laughably bad trailer where the actors themselves are the only ones who feel like they’re not in on the joke, and while it isn’t the craziest of the three films in terms of its material, it does more than enough to cement its place as one of those films where alcoholic drinks are essential for the occasion.

NEGATIVES

– Morally detestable. If Tessa and Hardin’s relationship is what every wide-eyed female seeks in a significant other, then it’s no wonder why I’m doomed to be single for the rest of my life. Not only is Hardin mentally abusive, assertively controlling, and immaturely reckless, he’s also someone who is single handedly responsible for all of the drama that seems to follow this couple everywhere, making for an encompassing for Tessa, a beautiful and talented girl on her own merits, a prisoner for a man she literally conveys hurts her, but one she stays with because the heart wants what it wants. In films like “Fifty Shades of Grey”, or literally any Nicolas Sparks adaptation, I can understand that wealth, fantasy play, or spiritual connection can weigh heavily on the magnetism between the characters, but for Tessa and Hardin, there is absolutely nothing about either that is complimentary to the integrity of the other, and when coupled with the very obvious early stages of narcissism from Hardin, or Stockholm syndrome from Tessa, fleshes out an irresponsibility to impressionable audiences who will seek out something similar for the fictional feelings that stem from the characters.

– Garbage protagonist. Even after three films, Hardin hasn’t matured a single solitary day from an original film that brought forth my least favorite protagonist of any movie, during my time as a critic. He attains this level of infamy as a result of being this fun-sucking entity within any room that he chooses to walk into, and one that literally changes the demeanor of the characters themselves when they see him. In fact, there’s almost an essence of fear to their interactions with him, but it’s never one that I can interpret as anything remotely imposing. Instead, Hardin is a rich-boy douchebag who disrespects family (His own and Tessa’s), distrusts his backward-bending girlfriend, and disgusts with the ideal that sex can cure everything. He’s very much the manifestation of adolescent hormones, and one that never has to bare the burden of blame for the problems that he single-handedly materializes. There isn’t a single redeemable quality about him, and I couldn’t help but promote Tessa’s teased infidelity with other men, if even just for the quickest route to removing him from this film all together.

– Storytelling static. I’ve always believed that even a sequel in a franchise should be able to stand on its own as a good movie. But between the lack of long-term storytelling and complete absence of dramatic heft consistently throughout the narrative, it leaves this feeling like the thinnest written effort in terms of consequences, and when paired with the perils of third act sequel-baiting, forgets to construct a narrative that is uniquely compelling from previous efforts. This is where redundancy rears its ugly head in what little is conjured and built on its way to a flacid climax (I’m clever). It’s so bad that around the last half hour, the script itself almost abruptly realizes how little it has set in preparation to grip audiences on the edge of their seats, so they construct an outlandish twist that is about as obvious as forth-coming sex scenes in this movie, and one that only serves as a tease to the next chapter by leaving us with the outdated “To Be Continued” screen text that is sure to bring audible groans from lovers and haters of this film, simultaneously.

– Prolonged penetration. There are four sex/masturbation sequences littered casually throughout the 95 minute run time, that only attains such a length when you consider how stretched these sequences actually are in execution. These are the moments when it feels like a Cinemax softcore porn selection, but one that earns it for all of the wrong reasons, as they each take five minutes to flesh out various awkward groaning, moaning and boning that gets unappealing after ten seconds. The sequences themselves aren’t remotely hot or energetic with the complacencies of their choreographies, and the complete lack of nudity or experimentation bores these moments in a way that completely undersells the appeal of their dynamic without deviation. It makes for these awkward pauses where all of the conflicts halt progression so that these two vanilla cones can get it on, dully, but does make for quite a few moments of much-needed drink breaks, when the alcohol off-screen is used to enhance the monotony on-screen.

– Boisterous soundtrack. Even if “After We Fell” fails to make back its budget, it will at least give way to a million downloads in these random songs decorating its inconsistent soundtrack. Part of the problem here is that the tracks themselves are so obviously rendered to channel a particular tone for the imagery on-screen, but lyrically don’t line up in a way that feeds consistency to its integrity. The bigger problem, however, is the level of mixing within the volume controls that arrives with the subtlety of a dump truck dropping a dumpster, and leaves with relief from the pain previously ensued. It reaches for a music video embodiment, but instead springs free the panic from accidentally sitting on the volume button of a remote control, damaging my eardrums permanently with tracks that are not only unappealing on a creative level, but conflicting on a distracting one.

– Flat performances. Considering the abundance of the supporting cast are virtually only called upon when the story requires a temporary distancing between Tessa and Hardin, I will leave them alone. As expected, the volume of the my vitriol pertains to Langford and Tiffin, who somehow manage to maintain a complete lack of chemistry between three films. Langford’s enveloping of Tessa is every bit bland and tedious as her timing feels strained and subliminal, leaving too much to interpretation for scenes that should quite literally shake her to her very core, but instead are delivered with the kind of velocity of notebook paper falling on the floor. Hero Fiennes Tiffin (Hero? Somebody lied to you, kid) definitely takes the cake, however, as the one-dimensional Hardin, whom Tiffin articulates as the essence of spoiled. When this character isn’t annoying the shit out of me, Tiffin’s (I refuse to call him Hero) moody monotony sacrifices everything supposedly endearing about the character, making him feel like the antagonist in his own movie, and one I wish would be dealt with accordingly.

– Mind-numbing dialogue. Clearly, the intention here was to mirror the lines in the book for the movie, in a way that gave respect to the legions of fans who will be rewarded with familiarity. The problem, at least in this context, is that the lines themselves leave nothing to interpretation with the capabilities of the ensemble, which in turn undercuts the authenticity of their deliveries. Because of such, most of the lines feel like they’re literally being read from a cue-card that is right in front of the actors, drowning out moments of vulnerability with the kind of volume in depth that is consistent with a funeral proceeding. On top of this, the lines themselves are painfully cheesy and completely the opposite of anything that anyone over the age of 15 would say, with regards to themes of heartbreak, longing, and underlining rage. My favorites are “No tears come, only memories and regrets”, and “You’re my better place, Tess”. Lines so profoundly rich with humanity that and realism that Calvin Klein is buying the rights for his next cologne commercial.

My Grade: 2/10 or F-