Editor’s Notes: Paper Towns is currently out in wide theatrical release.
Under scrutiny at an alarmingly active rate, the genre of the young adult novel adaptation is undoubtedly one of film’s most controversial. No other is branded as “manipulative” quite so frequently, that’s for sure. But while jumping to such a word may be a justifiable reaction, considering that many films in the genre sell themselves as teenage fantasies, thus attracting excessive hordes of youths, few opportunities are left for genuinely independent inclusions to be recognized as anything more.
The script here is soaked with infectious optimism, as the leads pursue the greatest possible outcome out of every situation, still remaining happy even when achieving something lesser.
While those films may succeed at the box office, they’ll constantly be looked at as members of a pack preying upon the insecurities and various needs prevalent in their dominant audience. Paper Towns is the latest victim of this conundrum. Being the next John Green novel adaptation after The Fault in Our Stars, it needed to market itself as something we’ve seen before in order to make a profit. But after seeing the film, one gets the sense that this was an unwilling scenario for those behind it. After all, what we get is not a blind post-adolescent romance, what we get is a heartfelt tribute to youthful relationships, romantic or otherwise. It’s neither manipulative nor artificial, and though home to some genre tropes, stands out as something entirely competent in a genre of unoriginality.
Aspects like the cinematography and soundtrack help everything at play feel even more charming than it already is, and it’s incredibly entertaining to let it all win you over.
The film follows Quentin (Nat Wolff), a high school student who’s content with the systematic way he sees his life playing out. As a child, his neighbor Margo (Cara Delevingne) befriends him, and after they both slowly drift apart, he goes through the rest of youth remaining in perpetual love with her. During this time, Margo adopts a tendency to run away from home and, thanks to classmates, return accompanied by various fantastical rumors of her exploits. Quentin desperately wants to be a part of such behavior, and finally gets to near the end of their shared senior year of high school, when she appears at his window in the night to request his assistance in a revenge plot. It’s the night of his life, but in the following week, he sees that yet again, Margo’s run away. However, this time, she seems to have left clues for him to find her. Once he and his two best friends discover those clues, they borrow Quentin’s minivan and set off to track her down.
The ensuing clichéd road trip paints itself with a coat of nostalgic familiarity, reminiscent of adventures found on old VHS tapes and in the curious hopefulness of childhood. What results isn’t uninspired, and instead uses its embraced clichés to bolster the already strong nostalgia, letting you liken what you’re watching to your own adolescent experiences with ease. The script here is soaked with infectious optimism, as the leads pursue the greatest possible outcome out of every situation, still remaining happy even when achieving something lesser. And while each character may be a bit of a caricature, this fits into the film’s nature. Whereas Palo Alto (which coincidentally also stars Nat Wolff) is shot like a dream, fitting into the cast’s dreamlike outlook on life, Paper Towns plays out like a fond memory. And considering Paper Towns is all about making memories and seeing the good in things, the end of high school being a big one, this is definitely not a coincidence. Aspects like the cinematography and soundtrack help everything at play feel even more charming than it already is, and it’s incredibly entertaining to let it all win you over.
Director Jake Schreier and the rest of the crew did a wonderful job here, using and commenting on friendship drama to craft something that I’m finally happy young adult audiences are ecstatic about.
Paper Towns is a heartfelt tribute to youthful relationships, romantic or otherwise. It’s neither manipulative nor artificial, and though home to some genre tropes, stands out as something entirely competent in a genre of unoriginality.
