50/50 Review

Cancer sucks.

Cancer killed my grandmother, my mother, and my brother-in-law. Cancer has killed too many friends to count. Therefore, when it comes to movies that deal with cancer, I have followed a policy of intentional avoidance, with very few exceptions. Why rip open wounds that have healed? What's the point of dredging up bad memories so they can be compared with a movie version of a potentially fatal disease, whether said movie puts a forced happy face on the march to the Grim Reaper or soaks the illness in unearned sentimentality and maudlin attempts to jerk tears? Frankly, I hate "cancer movies," which have almost universally struck me as artificial and offensive.

And then along comes 50/50, a self-described "cancer comedy" which shines with a patina of emotional truth and genuine wit in the face of the abyss. Earlier drafts of the script were titled "How I Learned Nothing From Cancer," and, later, "I'm With Cancer." Both convey the comic intent of writer Will Reiser, who wrote the screenplay on the basis of his own personal experience.

But many writers have tapped their personal experience without creating characters who act as real as the ones in 50/50, i.e., like different individuals. By that, I mean this: Adam (Joseph Gordon-Levit) is mild, kind, and long-suffering. His best friend Kyle (Seth Rogen) is funny, loyal, and volatile. His girlfriend Rachael (Bryce Dallas Howard) is self-centered and passionate. His mother Diane (Anjelica Huston) is overly-protective and fussy. His therapist Katherine (Anna) is cheerful and optimistic.

Their personalities lend themselves to their professions. Adam is a recording engineer / sound editor for a public radio station, where his fussy, precise inclinations are well-placed. Kyle appears to be a radio personality. Rachael is an artist, and not a very good one. Diane is the caregiver for her husband, who has Alzheimer's Disease; Adam is their only child. Katherine is a therapist-in-training; uncertain now, but heading in the right general direction.

The way they talk is as individual as their personalities. One of my movie dialogue pet peeves is how often everyone sounds exactly the same: every character talks like Aaron Sorkin or Quentin Tarantino or Kevin Smith is whispering in their ear, telling them what to say, with no differences allowed for age, background, temperament, and so forth. In the hands of a master dialogue writer, that can be fun, but usually it results in a painfully flat series of speechs and gutteral outbursts. The script for 50/50 doesn't make that mistake. The dialogue is not entirely realistic, but it flows in natural, conversational rhythms, so it sounds like real life, or as we wish it were. One character tends to be effusive in his use of profanity, but the others only use it for emphasis or out of anger, while others don't use it at all.

While the plot follows the expected trajectory of the "potentially fatal illness" sub-genre -- boy meets cancer, boy gets cancer, boy lives free or dies from cancer -- not all the scenes fall into place in stereotypical fashion, which definitely makes the material feel fresh and untrammeled upon.

Director Jonathan Levine works in service of the screenplay without hesitating to add his own distinctive touches. I haven't seen his elusive debut, All the Boys Love Mandy Lane, but his sophomore effort, The Wackness, was evocative of a very specific era (early 90s New York City); you could smell the atmosphere wafting off the screen. The story and characters, however, were lacking something essential that kept the film from being completely compelling and successful. 50/50 feels like a perfect marriage between writer and director. Levine's eye for composition is exquisite, and rarely draws attention to itself.

Joseph Gordon-Levitt anchors an extremely strong cast, with perfectly-calibrated performances all around. Again, it's a wonderful union between writer, director, and actors. And it's all enabled by top-notch photography (Terry Stacey), editing (Zene Baker), and production design (Annie Spitz), as well as an ace musical score by Michael Giacchino.

I still hate cancer movies. But 50/50 rocks.

50/50 opens wide across the U.S. today.