And wuv, tru wuv, will fowow you foweva… Just like the skidmark on the underpants of cinema that is this film will if you see it. Things I would’ve rather done than spend money to sit through this shitshow include: an acid enema, being trapped on a desert island with Rebecca Black and ripping off my eyelids with tweezers, for starters. Endless Love fell out the Teen Romance Cliché Tree and hit every dumbass branch on the way down.
Endless Love follows Jade Butterfield (good girl with a heart and vagina of gold) as, during the summer after high school, she meets and falls ENDLESSLY in LOVE with David Elliot (bad boy with attitude and a heart of tarnished gold). But wait! There’s more! Watch this film now and we’ll include disapproving parents who fight to keep this modern day Romeo and Juliet apart AND your very own collector’s set of shocking twists and dramatic turns! Will Jade and David end up together? Will their LOVE be ENDED by the cruel hand of fate? Will there ever be enough alcohol in the world to erase this fiesta of fuckwittery from our collective consciousness? No, the answer to that last one is no.
Well, I didn’t catch the herps from that hobo I banged in the back row or get roofied during Endless Love, so the movie had that going for it. The film had, to it’s credit, a Stockholm Syndrome kind of charm in that the longer it ran, the more you were enraptured by the teenage trainwreck unfolding before your very eyes. Not to mention the popcorn had just the right ratio of butter to stab-me-in-the-fucking-face-this-shit-is-ridiculous.
Also, the ensemble cast surrounding the film’s insipid leads was solid, given the cinematic cesspit of saccharine platitudes and diabetes-inducing dialogue they had to work with, there were moments of actual, genuine character connection; most notably between David and his dad Harry (played by the effortlessly charming Robert Patrick). Endless Love was a generic love story that’s gotten repeatedly worse with each adaptation, so congrats, Universal, this was a circle-jerk of suck unrivaled by anything since Breaking Yawn’s credits last rolled.
But, soft! What movie through yonder window blows? It is Endless Love, and it’s been done, literally, before. This movie is a remake of the 1981 adaptation of Scott Spencer’s 1979 novel by the same name, and, with each adaptation, the evolution of suck comes closer and closer to apocalyptic levels of what-the-fuck-itude. The novel explored the dangerous obsession of young love and the destructive psychology that can lead to ruin. The only thing 2014’s Endless Love explored was how much parents just don’t understand THAT THEY ARE IN LOVE LIKE FOR REALS OKAY?!? Srrsly.
This latest Endless Love remake was Ke$ha, I mean Paris Hilton, I mean pointless. Anything fresh or original about the source material was tossed and replaced with a hormonal music video set to two hours of kissy faces and holding hands. If I wanted to watch that shit I’d DVR The Bachelor. BRB. Gotta go vomit up the last of my will to live.
Even using the exceptionally low bar by which I judge teen romantic dramas, Endless Love was like a ninja of bullshittery, tricking you into thinking it’s not that bad then junk-punching you with mediocrity so hard you puke Taylor Swift lyrics for a week. The paint-by-numbers plotline could’ve been interchanged with almost any other young adult drama with almost any other cast and it would’ve been the same Bob Ross dumbassery you’re handing your money over to see again and again like a Groundhog Day of asshattery that we’ll be trapped in until we die or become One Direction fans.
Events and relationships unfolded for no other reason than to push this bloated, beached Honey Boo Boo’s mother of a plot to its inevitable and eye-rollingly predictable end. The most interesting character in the movie, Jade’s slightly psychotic father, Hugh (the sexy silver fox Bruce Greenwood) even had to bow to the overlord’s of romance and give in to the rabid demand for the most desirable outcome (robbing the film of the best chance of a dramatic foil to their insipid almost-love triangles, and anything resembling complexity and/or depth of purpose it could’ve had).
The dialogue in Endless Love was stupider than that time I got blackout drunk and banged the father of the bride at my best friends wedding, but, in my defense, he had a penis. I can only imagine screenwriters Shana Fest and Joshua Safran were too busy pounding bad decision juice while doing rails of coke off a stripper’s asscrack to write actual dialogue. But don’t worry! They found a thirteen-year-old girl’s cell phone under a couch cushion and substituted her texts as a script.
Here are a few gems I remember in-between jamming an ice pick in my eye and weeping in the fetal position:
“I’ve wanted to kiss you since the tenth grade. I couldn’t wait another minute to tell you that.”-David
“I wanna find true love… The kind that you fight for… And when I find that, that’s all I need.” –David
“We don’t have to do this… I can wait.”-David
“I don’t wanna wait, I wanna feel this with you.”-Jade
Imagine these lines delivered by the lackluster chemistry of two Abercrombie and Fitch dolls awkwardly dry-humping each other for two hours, while tepidly nibbling on each other’s faces like hamsters having petite mal seizures, and you’ll be halfway to what I had to sit though. I’ve been more turned on by Charmin commercials and those motherfuckers are CARTOON BEARS.
For a film about a passion so all consuming it burns up the screen, leaving the audience breathless with anticipation over what will happen to the young lovers, Endless Love is the equivalent to negative space in a painting; notable not so much for what’s there, but for what ISN’T (anything RESEMBLING passion). There’s no urgency, no sexual frenzy, nothing but chaste fireside kisses and a flash of panties or two. This movie is a mediocre Novocain shot to the face, leaving you numb and ultimately unsatisfied; so basically the same as anyone who’s ever banged a Kardashian. Allegedly. Writing for a friend.
Things you should do instead of watching this movie include: breathing, blinking, attending a live water birth, drinking, becoming BFF’s with Paris Hilton, realizing not everything is “hot” and un-becoming BFF’s with Paris Hilton, jazzercize, drinking, hot yoga, Crossfit, leaving five minutes into Crossfit and eating your body weight in cheesy puffs, masturbate, drinking, masticate, masturbate while you masticate, learn jazz flute, drinking, breath some more and go see The Lego Movie instead. You’re welcome in advance.
Endless Love sucks harder than Courtney Love does at basic math. Two angsty nipples way, way down.
Take a Drink: anytime you want to junk-punch the asshole who made you see Endless Love. Bonus Shot: If you saw it ON PURPOSE.
Take a Drink: whenever Jade’s dad is a dick.
Do a Shot: for every act of sabotage.
Take a Drink: whenever you see/anyone brings up the dead Butterfield kid.
Do a Shot: every time there’s a voiceover.
Shotgun a Beer: for the Romeo and Juliet balcony gagfest.