Verity | Official Trailer<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\nPOSITIVES<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Considering now four of Colleen Hoover’s books have been adapted to the silver screen, there’s ample evidence to the notion that she’s simply not my kind of crafting storyteller, but even despite this overwhelming notion, there are some compelling aspects to this particular adaptation that at least kept it tolerable from some of her other toxic love stories, helping to maintain my vested interests in the narrative despite so many baffling creative decisions throughout that left me scratching my head. For starters, it’s a beautifully shot film, full of ambient lighting, framing, and composition work that instinctually breeds so much unsettling atmosphere to Showalter’s intended direction, specifically those isolated perspective shots of Lowen that leave her vulnerable in a location shrouded in secrecy. While some of the editing techniques of the production brought to mind unflattering reminders of Young Adult movies of the past decade, so much of Jim Frohna’s moodily sharp aesthetic choices effectively leverage the textural tangibility of rural upstate Vermont with its surveilling camera movements, capturing not only a peacefully alluring look by day, but also a dark, spooky, and scintillating look by night, and considering Frohna’s job is made a bit easier by a luxuriously lavishing location that feels like a character of its own within the movie, Showalter’s direction revels in the depths of what manipulatively feels like a ghost story, only with those lingering presences stemming from the memories of its family that constantly hang in the balance. On the subject of that aforementioned setting, it certainly illustrates the untouchable wealth attained from Verity’s authorial career, with architectural designs and set decoration that resemble a filth of riches, but beyond that an isolated disconnect from the outside world that fleshes out Lowen’s dreaded disadvantage, and with so much of the articulated environment differing from room to room, based on who exists within them, it allows Showalter flexible capability to transition almost abruptly between the sharp contrasts of the movie’s tone, cementing an intentionally erratic and occasionally disorienting feeling of dread that is difficult to get a firm grasp on. Aside from some visual stimulation and atmospheric direction from Showalter, the film is also blessed by meaningful performances from each member of its decorated trio, but specifically Hathaway and Johnson, who commit themselves endlessly to the dimensionality of their respective characters, often making them feel unfamiliar within the evolutions of the storytelling. This is especially the case for Anne Hathaway, whose wildly magnetic and often times campily emphatic deliveries enticingly commands the screen with scintillatingly sizzling and mesmerizing personality, despite the majority of her screentime being spent in a vegetative state, allowing the actress limitless range to exercise the psychological demons of her character with one of her more edgier and unrelenting performances to date. As for Dakota Johnson, while her emotionality certainly isn’t as unrestrained as Hathaway’s, there is an ensuing franticness and appeasing vulnerability to her portrayal that articulates the disarming influence that Verity’s writing has on her character, allowing Lowen to indulge in the fruits of others labor, whether intentional or not, and while she unfortunately shares no semblance of conductive chemistry with Hartnett’s wide-eyed sincere portrayal, in order to bring their blossoming romance to life with credibility or believability, the storytelling feels most progressive when the two simultaneously share the screen, where so much about their masking expressions with one another convey the ace up the sleeve that each of them weaponize over the other, at many times throughout their interactions.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
NEGATIVES<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Say what you will about last year’s erotic thriller, The Housemaid, but Paul Feig knew how to bring that property to life in ways that Showalter’s direction here simply could never dream of, and while an unfolding mystery does enough to put the butts in the seats, the lack of sexiness, thrills, or surmising campiness leaves it feeling a bit undercooked in failing to capture the extent of its limitless potential, leaving a disappointing shell of a finished product that was better served in the small doses of a two minute trailer that overlook its glaring detractions. While the sexiness and thrills are certainly compromising to the movie’s overall integrity, the strictly serious demeanor of exacted material feels most detrimental to what we’re interpreting in real time, especially alongside pretentious dialogue patterns and supernatural imagery that are approached sternly at face value, leaving much of the fun factor of these ridiculous creative intentions singling out anyone in the audience who even dares to laugh with the unflinching majority, who have found endearment to the novel that the movie is based on. On the subject of that creativity, the script from Nick Antosca is a disjointed and scatterbrained mess so egregiously irresponsible that its decisions feel counterproductive to the appeal of the narrative, specifically while delving into detestably shallow characters, without a single solitary semblance of redeemability between them. Regardless of this measure being an intentional aspect of both the book and the film, in order to reflect Verity’s own artistic indulgence in morally compromising characters to the advantageous benefit of her own writing, it leaves the film searching for a moral center of its own that only grows more distant with each passing moment, leaving a disappointing ending feeling inevitable, but in ways that I never could’ve possibly imagined. Because so much of this script and majority of a 109-minute runtime are spent reveling in the past, in ways that are meant to emulate the unreliability of narrator and reader, the script has difficulty in constantly finding naturally logical ways for Lowen’s reading to stop at the exact time when it correlates remarkably to what transpires in the foreground of her narrative with Verity’s husband, where if she would’ve read only a little further in Verity’s manuscripts, she could’ve avoided inevitable outcomes that rely exceptionally on conveniences and contrivances, helping to save some meaningful momentum from earth-shattering reveals, that were prematurely spoiled as a result of detectable sequencing and historical experiences with similarly creative movies. As a result, there’s only so many times when you can pair two good looking physical specimens together in the same house before they eventually hook up, but even when the other stirring developments pertain to the more shocking and elaborate, it often results in a dud of an impact from telegraphed character motivations that I registered as much as a whole hour before they eventually transpired, leaving much of the thrills and chills of the material feeling pedestrian throughout a first half of the movie that feels like one gigantic exposition dump, on its way to one of the most confounding endings that I have ever seen put to screen. It’s not so much that I didn’t understand the resolution of the narrative, as it’s not half as thought-provoking and profound as the script believes it to be, it’s just that its ridiculously convoluted twists are enacted in such a bafflingly bewildering way that not only feels abruptly out of nowhere when held in contrast to everything that we’ve interpreted about these characters to this point, but also jarringly unrealistic in its unavoidable contrivances, crafting a gaping Grand Canyon sized hole over logic that the movie finds remarkable ways of avoiding all together. It’s one of those endings that grows all the more alienating the longer that I think about unintentionally hilarious aspects pertaining to fingerprints, DNA, and the unwavering imagination of a child’s dedication for make believe, and while each of these aspects are merely instituted for some semblance of shock value to the integrity of the experience, it’s instead conjured so surrealistically silly that it comes to elicit some of the sought-after campiness that we were starving for over the first hour-and-a-half of the engagement, enacting a gimmicky last second debate plucked from the novel that would’ve been better if changed all together for this film adaptation. As previously mentioned, while the film clocks in at just under two hours, it’s made contesting with an opening act that decelerates significantly after a promising foundation-building opening scene, leaving the patience of audiences tested by slow boil storytelling that is devoid of genuine tension for much of the entire first hour. Even when it finally does kick on for a much more enthralling climax, it fails to feel energized by even the most absurdist behavior from its erratically unleashed protagonists, in many ways leaving the magnitude of forthcoming twists numbed by an increasing allowance that overindulges in attempting to acquire any shred of memorability for those unfortunate to have to sit through it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
OVERALL
Verity is another in the growing pile of Colleen Hoover adaptations that obliterate logic and compelling characterization, in order to craft an undercooked psychological thriller that grows all the more contrived and convoluted with each passing moment. While Anne Hathaway, Dakota Johnson, and Josh Hartnett are giving everything to such an alluring premise on paper, on-screen their commendable efforts are marginalized by a clunkily counterproductive ending so overly analyzed that it tames the temerity of its tantalizing twists, leaving audiences searching for the exits with an experience that combines the excitement of checking your watch with the regret of spending your money.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My Grade: 4.4 or D-<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Directed By Michael Showalter Starring – Anne Hathaway, Dakota Johnson, Josh Hartnett The Plot – Lowen Ashleigh (Johnson) is hired to ghostwrite for Verity Crawford (Hathaway). After she uncovers what appears to be Verity’s autobiographical notes, she wrestles with the confessions about Verity’s husband (Hartnett), and finds it hard to separate fiction from reality. Rated […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":9943,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[13,18],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/thefilmfreak.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9942"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/thefilmfreak.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/thefilmfreak.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thefilmfreak.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thefilmfreak.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=9942"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"http:\/\/thefilmfreak.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9942\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":9944,"href":"http:\/\/thefilmfreak.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9942\/revisions\/9944"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thefilmfreak.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/9943"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/thefilmfreak.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=9942"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thefilmfreak.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=9942"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thefilmfreak.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=9942"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}