The Fault In Our Stars (2014)

(The Fault In Our Stars 2014)

By: Felix Felicis (Two Beers) –

But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and this bitch totes has cancer! Feeling blue? Recently broke up with your girlfriend/boyfriend/potted plant/meth dealer? Then have I got the movie for you! You can cry in a dark theater and NO ONE WILL JUDGE YOU. The Fault In Our Stars is pretty much feelings wrapped in young love smothered in tragedy… So grab some tissues, grab a uterus and grab a ticket to the best tearjerker in town (no, I’m not talking about your weird uncle who lives in your basement and crysturbates non-stop to John Hughes movies).

I’ll take Things You Can Find In My Basement for $1200, Alex.

The Fault In Our Stars, adapted from John Green’s book of the same name, follows the epically tragic young love story of Augustus Waters and Hazel Grace Lancaster (as both discover each other amidst teen angst and already-fated circumstances to find out if “forever” can be captured in a finite number of days). Will Hazel find a new appreciation for life and love through Augustus? Will Augustus make the most of his time with Hazel? Will we ever find out how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop?

Your question precludes the possibility of a no-win scenario…

A Toast

The Fault In Our Stars serves up tragic young love like the Williams sisters serve up cans of whoop-ass on the tennis courts… Frequently and with deadly precision. If I had a dollar for every sad bitch softly weeping while the guy she dragged to see this rolled his eyes for two hours I’d have enough for a downpayment on a Learjet. That said, The Fault In Our Stars is a masterful entry into the messy tearjerker genre, even evoking what I think was “emotion” from yours truly (cards on the table, it may’ve been gas) as I got choked up and fought back tears more than once… I THINK MY EYE HOLES ARE BROKEN WHAT IS THIS BULLSHIT.

“There’d better be one hell of a blow job after this.” -Every guy dragged to The Fault In Our Stars.

The cast, from a surprisingly relatable Shailene Woodley (I’ve never quite forgiven her for the saccharine hand-job that was The Secret Life of the American Teenager– though The Fault In Our Stars is a good start) to an almost supernaturally smooth Ansel Elgort (seriously, this kid could get laid on that crooked smile alone) to a masterful cameo by dissolute alcoholic ex-author Willem Dafoe (every minute of his screen time was pure genius) to superb supporting roles by Laura Dern (Hazel’s charming mother), Sam Trammel (Hazel’s D.I.L.F), and Nat Wolff (the quirky bridge between Hazel and Augustus) are deep and nuanced every moment they’re onscreen; not to mention the acting in The Fault In Our Stars was Scarlett Johansson, I mean Kate Upton, I mean perfection.

And on the Eighth Day god created ScarJo… And it was good.

Beer Two 

The Fault In Our Stars isn’t the freshest whore on the block and her paint-by-numbers tragic plot was, at times, an inauthentic Bob Ross landscape of predictability, complete with fluffy motherfucking clouds. The acting elevates a glossy script that seems almost as polished (too much so to be entirely believable) as I imagine Paris Hilton’s twat to be. It’s an engineered, manufactured sadness that The Fault In Our Stars is selling, and there were moments that the power of the film was cheapened by an obvious tug on the heartstrings. Yeah, because the ideal place for a first kiss is in the Anne Frank house as a crowd of strangers coo and applaud those plucky kids with cancer as they make the most of their limited time together…

*vomits forever*

The strength of The Fault In Our Stars is that, even with moments where I was taken out of the movie by eye-rollingly obvious genre asshattery, the characters were relatable and engaging enough to pull me back in. The movie is as good as, but not better than, the novel, lacking the depth of the source material but still managing to turn out a respectable (if less-than-flawless) effort. Compared to the rectal bleed that was Endless Love, The Fault In Our Stars is a goddamned cinematic gem. So if you’re ready to get your feels on and get krunk up in Tearsville, Population: You, Bro then look no further because this is the movie for you!

Crying counts as cardio, right?



Genre clichés aside, The Fault In Our Stars was a well-acted, nuanced shout into the void that’s less-than-perfect and eminently watchable BECAUSE of that. Two chick-flick nips way, way up.

Please also see: Relationships.

Drinking Game

Take a Drink: whenever you hear “Augustus Waters” or “Hazel Grace” or “Pain demands to be felt.”

Take a Drink: for every voiceover, text, email, or reference to An Imperial Affliction.

Do a Shot: anytime shit takes a turn for the tragic.

Take a Drink: for each hospital visit, flashback or declaration of love. Bonus Sip: if any of these overlap.

Shotgun a Beer: if you cry, Shotgun Two: if someone catches you.

About Felix Felicis

Filled with smart-assed sass and armed with the expletives to prove it, Felix Felicis is a critic adrift in a sea of dirty thoughts and tawdry humor. If you see her float by, toss Felix some beef jerky and a taser. She'll take it from there.


  1. Wow, I actually may have to see this now. I had just told a friend over dinner that the only way I’d see Jersey Boys, is if someone tied me up and threw me in their trunk, and that I’d actually rather be tortured by viewing Fault in our Stars over Jersey Boys any day. But maybe I’ve been too harsh by ranking them together!

    • Ha! Yeah. This shit’ll get you zero-to-tears in no time flat. Just bring tissues and a knife to stab anyone who catches you tearing up and you’ll be set. Hope you enjoy!

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