My husband, who indulges my love of young adult novels to the best of his ability (bless him), decided to take me to see The Fault in Our Stars. He knows nothing about the book (or any book that I read, frankly). These are his thoughts.
On Shailene Woodley: "She's not great, but she's no Kristen Stewart."
On Ansel Elgort: "At least they didn't get some Abercrombie model dude."
On the plot: "Did it seem like most of the movie was awkward smiling?"
On all the feels: "Good thing I'm such an O.G. Or else I might have cried."
On the director: "Is this the same dude that made Juno or Scott Pilgrim?
On its date potential: "Guys should know that they shouldn't take girls to this movie expecting to get laid. Maybe a handhold and a wet t-shirt."
On his enjoyment: "I think I would have rather stayed home with our son."
And his bottom line: "It was alright, but I wouldn't want to see it again."
On Shailene Woodley: "She's not great, but she's no Kristen Stewart."
On Ansel Elgort: "At least they didn't get some Abercrombie model dude."
On the plot: "Did it seem like most of the movie was awkward smiling?"
On all the feels: "Good thing I'm such an O.G. Or else I might have cried."
On the director: "Is this the same dude that made Juno or Scott Pilgrim?
On its date potential: "Guys should know that they shouldn't take girls to this movie expecting to get laid. Maybe a handhold and a wet t-shirt."
On his enjoyment: "I think I would have rather stayed home with our son."
And his bottom line: "It was alright, but I wouldn't want to see it again."
***
I, on the other hand, enjoyed it. It was, of course, terribly sad. But it was also sweet. Just like the book.
By Rachel Lyn Paxton
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