Have you heard the one about the two photogenic kids who meet
cute in a Southern beach town, overcome differences in class and
temperament and fall madly in love only to find that, in this
cruel, cruel world, tragedy finds a way of trumping hormones?
Dear God, it is “Dear John,” right? Yes. But it also is also “The
Last Song,” the second Nicholas Sparks movie to hit theaters in the
past two months, a development only moonstruck teen girls and the
facial tissue industry will welcome.
Sparks wrote “The Last Song” at the behest of Miley Cyrus, the
Disney Channel star who will soon end her run on the “Hannah
Montana” TV series and wants to expand her brand into movies.
For “The Last Song,” that means ditching Hannah’s pop star wig in
favor of a nose stud and confining her singing to a scene where her
character warbles along to Maroon 5 on the radio.
“Wow. You can really sing,” Cyrus’ character is told.
Those who would agree with that statement will find little wrong
with “The Last Song,” though Cyrus herself has admitted she
probably will be hiring an acting coach after watching the
movie.
At present, the 17-year-old Cyrus has an undeniable presence, but
her dramatic abilities largely consist of two moves: scrunching up
her face and staring wistfully into the distance.
Cyrus is doing a little of both when we first meet her character
Ronnie, a sullen teenager seething at the idea of spending the
summer at her father’s beachfront Georgia home. Apparently, Ronnie
is some kind of musical genius, but has not touched the piano since
her parents’ divorce several years ago.
While dad (Greg Kinnear) busies himself bonding with Ronnie’s
adorable little brother (Bobby Coleman), Ronnie fends off the
wholesome advances of Will (Liam Hemsworth), the local
hunk/mechanic/aquarium volunteer/volleyball stud.
Both men soon melt Ronnie’s cold, cold heart, and when a bunch of
turtle eggs that Ronnie and Will have tended end up hatching and
all those baby turtles paddle off into the foamy Atlantic, you
think, maybe, just maybe things are going to be OK for these two
crazy kids.
But since “The Last Song” is another leg on the never-ending
Nicholas Sparks Death Tour, you always sense The Reaper’s bony hand
circling over the proceedings, waiting to randomly pick off another
victim. Sure enough, it is not long before someone is mentioning
“medicine” and insisting, “I’m fine.”
The movie’s proximity to “Dear John” makes Sparks’ use of tragedy
as a device all the more risible, and director Julie Ann Robinson
shamelessly milks the situation to such a degree that she probably
would have the Transformers’ army of Decepticon robots bawling
their sensors out.
Kinnear lends the movie a dignity it does not deserve and stands as
the only cast member whose dramatic moments are not propped up by
soaring musical cues.
The barrage of songs does come in handy, spelling out every beat of
emotion contained in the story. So when Ronnie drives away at the
end and the music rises and a singer (it’s Miley!) tells us that
“there is no guarantee that this life is easy,” we know she speaks
truth, if only because death never takes a holiday in Sparks
Country.
“The Last Song,” released by Disney’s Touchstone Pictures, is rated
PG for thematic material, some violence, sensuality and mild
language. Running time: 101 minutes. Two stars out of four.
