FILM: The Fault In Our Stars

What makes a sad story? It is an interesting and important question to ask, and to attempt to answer, for any artist who wishes to involve their audience emotionally. Incidentally, The Fault In Our Stars - both the book and the film - has been described as incredibly sad and emotional, as you will no doubt have heard. So what does make a story sad? Is a story “sad” if it depicts sad events or themes, or if it makes its audience feel sad? How does one go about constructing a narrative which accomplishes this goal?

The Fault In Our Stars is a film based on John Green’s novel about teenagers with cancer. It claims to be about “telling the truth”, rather than sugar-coating tragic events and themes. While cancer is certainly a sad and distressing thing, merely depicting it in fiction is not enough to evoke an emotional response. The events and characters must draw the audience into the story so that we may involve ourselves with the emotional journey - for that to happen, the story requires characters we can empathise with and relate to. Not only do we need to see that people are dying, but we also need to care about it.

This film appears to rely too much on teenage romance drama clichés to tell this part of the story, rather than actual characterisation. Themes such as obsession over a love interest (“waiting to call”, etc.) and sentimental attachment in other ways play a major role in The Fault In Our Stars - at the end of the day, the film is about teen romance and love. And that subject has been done to death in the past. The Fault In Our Stars relies on the cliches of teen romance to tell its story and to emotionally involve its audience, and I would argue that is not adequate, because other peoples’ love stories are inherently uninteresting to all except those involved. While their relationship might matter to them, there is nothing which would - or should - make anyone else care about them. And this is because the film has not built its characters to make them likable. We, as the audience, only meet them superficially, and do not get the opportunity to genuinely know and understand who they are. Furthermore, there is not much about them which is interesting or intriguing - for the most part, Hazel and Augustus play archetypical roles for a generic teen-romance story. The characters are solely defined by their love interest, and not by their own characteristics - this makes them very difficult to empathize with.

It is true that the story does deal with some interesting philosophical themes, particularly about nihilism, existentialism and death, and Hazel’s choice of the word “oblivion” carries that rather nicely. There is some discussion about afterlife - but more importantly, how the world continues to exist after we die. A very, very common theme in similar stories is how our death will affect our loved ones - family, friends, lovers etc, and The Fault In Our Stars isn’t an exception to this. There is discussion about how one is remembered after death, and the bigger picture of certain human annihilation on a long enough timeline is invoked. It raises some interesting questions, particularly given the terminally ill in question are under 20 years old, and the existentialism of death is all the more poignant when concerning the young.

But this is secondary to the primary theme of love and romance, and the idea of death is carried by the protagonists’ romantic love. In the film, Hazel, who is dying, decides to shut herself off from her love interest because “I don’t want to hurt you” [sic]. This is another cliché which is presented as though it were something new - I’ve seen it countless times before, and I’ve never been fond of it. By common sense, would it not be the choice of the one who was to be hurt? He even says himself “I don’t care if I get hurt”, and yet she refuses to concede his point. This whole scenario is an exercise in laughable, unoriginal sentimentality, and marks poor characterisation and plot development.

The other aspect that an emotional story needs is effective contrast. Tragedy doesn’t mean much unless it’s juxtaposed against something positive, and often writers depict their characters gaining something positive before taking it away from them, thus creating a tragic event. In The Fault In Our Stars, Hazel gains a lover, and then loses him - therein lies the contrast. However, for much of the first half, the film carries an overwhelmingly positive tone in which everything is going perfectly for the young couple, peaking at the expensive (free) romantic dinner in Amsterdam. It overplays the positive aspects to the point where it becomes absurd and difficult to take seriously; the resulting contrast, when everything inevitably and predictably falls, is surreal and contrived, and likewise difficult to take seriously. 

As well as this, whilst the film champions honesty and candidness, it sports an overtly polished and glossy production which makes it feel fake. Many of the lines spoken appear pre-rehearsed and contrived, which is possibly a product of poor acting, as well as many of the scenes. Why, for example, is there a crowd of spectators and subsequent applause when the young couple share a romantic kiss in the Anne Frank house? It is a film that is very difficult to take seriously when it possesses this fake and unrealistic quality.

But the major downfall for this film is as I outlined above - while it claims to be a film about death and loss, the major theme is teen love and romance. It reminds me of The Hunger Games: an interesting idea is marginalized and drowned out by a generic teen love affair. While the interesting philosophical themes are present, the film is dominated by the romance. Love - specifically romantic love - is a boring subject in fiction, and is almost always played out in exactly the same way. And it is for this reason that I don’t find The Fault In Our Stars particularly sad, sombre, or emotionally effecting. As I have mentioned before, romantic affairs in fiction are either specifically tailored to the individual characters’ situations, or generic and clichéd - in both cases, they are difficult to relate to, and therefore boring. It is difficult to become invested in watching someone else’s love story - and as such, any film which relies on it for emotional involvement is likely to fall short. 

It likes to remind us, as well, of how “edgy” and innovative it is. The opening narration, seconds into the film, proclaims that this story does not “sugar-coat” the truth “like they do in the movies” [sic]. Later on in the film, Hazel’s narration confesses that, while she would like to say Augustus was brave and courageous in the hospital, “that’s not what happened.” Throughout the film, there are constant reminders which reiterate how different and candid The Fault In Our Stars is - particularly, compared to other films. Yet the reality sends a very different message - for the most part, this film is little more than another generic teen-romance flick, with a touch of cancer and death added. The focus is skewed in favour of the romantic themes, and the more interesting existential themes are downplayed as a result. And perhaps it is “edgy” by mainstream Hollywood standards - but those standards are not what any filmmaker should strive to meet.

It is for all these reasons that The Fault In Our Stars is not particularly affecting or “sad”. This is not to say that the film was completely lacking in power - the core of the narrative itself, involving young people dying, is a fairly strong one, and no doubt taps into young peoples’ fear of death. But  while the narrative itself is fine, it is in the execution and presentation of this narrative that the film fails; greater emphasis on the themes of death, dying, and existentialism, while diminishing the role of love and romance, would have made a significant difference, and a far greater emotional impact, in my view. Fundamentally, the problem is one of priorities.

There are also some character-based themes which could have been expanded on. Augustus, in all his pretentious smugness, does suffer a moment of weakness when his metaphorical cigarette is taken away from him. Notably, that metaphor is his defense mechanism - it makes him feel as though he has the power to cheat death. It’s a power trip, and they could have played more into the potentially anxiety-inducing effects of that metaphor being “not allowed on this flight”. It would have given the audience a window into his true character, beyond the facade he presents to others, and overall enhanced the emotional weight of his demise. As it stands, not knowing the characters beyond a superficial level makes it difficult to care about what happens to them. That sort of thing needs time to develop - or at the very least, attention - which is why something like Game Of Thrones is so powerful, because we have had a long time to become attached to the characters we are fond of.

So while I’m not saying it’s completely incompetent, popular opinion has greatly exaggerated the actual depth and power of The Fault In Our Stars. Despite this, I would be very interested to see whether the novel is any better than the film is - not enough to read it myself, mind - because most of what I have heard has been about the book. But for now, all we have is another teen-romance film with only a hint of something more interesting.