The Notebook Movie Review

There are many, many things you may have already seen in The Notebook, a cliché-ridden romance for which the word "recycled" seems much too charitable, but the quietly charming performances of Rachel McAdams and Ryan Gosling are not two of them. An adaptation of Nicholas Sparks' soggy bestseller that makes The Bridges of Madison County look like Tolstoy, The Notebook is buoyed by the offbeat casting of its two young leads, neither of whom is conventionally gorgeous but is just attractive enough to make you look twice. And while one would hesitate to call their performances "edgy," both do manage to lend a little something unconventional and unique to a sob story that's so schematic it's devoid of any suspense or tension. This is one Notebook in which all the lines have already been filled in.

The outline of The Notebook is painfully simple in the way that's made the makers of Hallmark cards millionaires: it's designed for maximum "awwww" effect while telegraphing a number of emotions without actually playing them out. The framing device of the story has an old man (James Garner) reading a story of two young lovers to an ailing old woman (Gena Rowlands) whom he clearly loves and who is clearly suffering from some kind of senile dementia. Even if you haven't seen the commercials for this movie or read the book, it's obvious from the outset that this is a daily practice for the man, and that the woman never remembers the tale from day to day. Good thing, seeing as if she did, she'd probably throw the claptrap out the window for cribbing from eighteen gazillion different romances and TV shows with nary an original thought. To wit:

Noah (Gosling) is a bright, attractive, hard-working but honest boy from the wrong side of the tracks; Allie (McAdams) is a bright, attractive, intelligent but down-to-earth girl from a very rich family. They meet cute circa 1940 at a rustic South Carolina country carnival (well, actually Noah stalks Allie, but let's not get cynical about it just get) where he badgers her into going out on a date with him. A movie date gives way to a sweaty, tempestuous never-further-than-first-base summer romance (though it must be the coldest summer in Charleston history, as every night scene details the lovers' bated, puffy breath), complete with poetry (his reading of), paintings (her creation of), and many scenic walks/boat rides/car rides/etc. But of course, such bliss must be interrupted, by that one unyielding force of nature that makes the blood of any lustful lover run cold: parents.

Yes, Allie's parents are none-too-pleased with their daughter's choice of a boyfriend; her dad is somewhat good-natured about it, but mom (Joan Allen, in full-on frigid bitch mode) objects strenuously, citing Allie's college plans (Sarah Lawrence) and potential future (marriage to someone "suitable") as reason enough to put the kibosh on this eternal flaming passion. Arguments erupt, followed by crying and recriminations, and soon Noah and Allie are kaput. For now. What transpires between their break-up and inevitable reunion seven or so years later is a series of scenes that could be the equivalent of cinematic postcards: Here's Noah during World War II, in Africa one minute, then Europe the next! Here's Allie in English class one minute, tending to soldiers in a stateside hospital the next! Here she is with her charming dreamboat fiancée (James Marsters); here he is all moody and depressed, fixing up the dilapidated mansion where they almost lost their virginity. There she is in a wedding gown; there he is with a whisky bottle. And then, there's his picture in the paper, and there she faints dead away.

It's at about this point that The Notebook finally rouses itself from its romance-soaked stupor and manages to stir up something resembling emotion and humor – you can pinpoint the moment as when director Nick Cassavetes trains his camera on McAdams, surly in a bubble bath, still wearing her veil and drinking whiskey out of a very full glass. It's a wonderful, funny throwaway snippet, and it also finally wakes you up to McAdams' full potential. Throughout the first half of the movie, her Allie was a nice, jovial yet bland girl full of smiles and laughter, but with a smidgen of growing up behind her, McAdams manages (at least for the next few scenes) to flesh her out into a real character. Driving out to confront Noah, her seemingly calm demeanor is tempered by a flickering remembrance of her first love, wistful yet still grounded in reality. Of course, she throws herself at Noah and shares a wild `n crazy weekend of carnal passion (shades of Madison County there). But when push comes to shove, and Mom shows up with a revelation or two, who's Allie going to pick: the stable, bland fiancée or the stud who's now vaguely independently wealthy and has built her an artist's studio to boot?

The outcome is never, ever in question, yet McAdams and Gosling manage to turn their stereotypical rekindling into something affectionate that resembles actual human emotions. Gosling is the weaker of the two, and his transparent surly depression is belied by the care taken with his attractively disheveled hair. McAdams, though, picks up any slack and provides a nice counterpoint; getting tipsy over dinner, she remarks how she's a "cheap drunk" and any more beers will result in her being carried out of the house, though her eyes briefly flicker that she'd much rather be carried somewhere else. Unfortunately, it all degenerates into a tedious argument and a reunion that, while somewhat touching, certainly isn't nuanced or heartfelt. It's as if reaching for a few actual paragraphs of human emotion, the filmmakers finished it up with a greeting card line instead. And the marriage of this story to the present-day one, while obvious, is less than artfully done.

But even the lukewarm romantic glow you'll get from The Notebook is diminished by its framing device, which despite the serene presence of Garner and Rowlands, feels too manipulative by half and is something of a cold dousing after the warmth of McAdams and Gosling. It may have been Sparks' intent to counter the idealism of remembered youthful passion with the hard reality of growing old, but in this context, it's merely manipulative and bordering on sadistic – for both the audience and the actors. A couple nice grace notes near the end don't make up for the over-extended finale, which yanks tears in a way that makes movies like Love Story seem sensitive and delicate. It's almost as if after trying to seduce you with come-hither words, The Notebook just finally gives up and slaps you upside the head. Ouch!