by Samuel Nichols, Contributing Writer
Hey, you there! Avid SiftPop reader! Thank you for clicking on this review! Let me ask you a question: Did you like 2014’s The Fault in Our Stars? Did the tale of two tragic kids in love finding hope in each other interest you? Perhaps you were drawn in by the star power attached with up-and-comer Shailene Woodley and established talent like Willem Dafoe? Maybe what grabbed you was the story of hope in the face of complete tragedy? Or maybe you’re just a fan of author John Green? Well, I’ll tell you something: I don’t like The Fault in Our Stars, despite my affection for the stars like Dafoe and Woodley, and owning most of Green’s books. But I could at least respect the movie because of the talent attached to the project. Take out MOST of that talent, and you got potential for a real stinker on your hands. That’s what we have on our phones, TV screens, and laptops with Netflix’ latest offering, My Oxford Year.
Alright, let’s set aside the nonsense that recent college graduate Anna (played by the only saving grace here, the charming Sofia Carson) defers her job with GOLDMAN SACHS for a year to study VICTORIAN POETRY at Oxford. She is taking a gap year for all intents and purposes. Fine, people do that after graduating college. Let’s also disregard how against the odds it is that doctorate candidate/glorified TA Jamie (Corey Mylchreest), who is ONLY three or four years her senior, is now teaching this poetry class. There’s young people who are good at poetry. Now let’s say that they are both single despite being insanely good looking. Now let’s say they both throw caution to the wind, revel in the taboo, and start dating despite the age, cultural, and power difference. Now, for the cherry on top: Give Jamie cancer, and MAKE HIM NOT WANT TO FIGHT IT BECAUSE HIS BROTHER DIED FROM CANCER TOO (despite Jamie being under 30)! Now, will Anna stick with Jamie during what could be his final days?
Look, this movie goes from charming and a little stereotypical to straight-up boring tragedy. Rom-com charm isn’t exactly booming in the first act where everyone is getting to know each other and our leads are flirting, but it’s moving along well enough. There’s potential to have an enjoyable and relaxing time on the couch with your favorite streaming service. Carson has the charm, and we’ve seen her show up in other Netflix work before. She can be fun and play the manic pixie dream girl. And Mylchreest isn’t DOA. That’s more than enough for a Netflix movie. I’ve seen the California Christmas movies, which don’t have much more than that going on.
But then the aforementioned cancerous twist in this movie pulls everything down like a black hole of absolute garbage. For a scene or two, Jamie is dodging Anna and we think we’re going to walk in on him cheating on her or connecting with an ex over a meal. Nope. She barges into his bedroom to find him getting a round of chemo. It’s shocking, but it changes the movie’s perspective. You think there’s going to be more commitment, and Anna does buckle down and start doing more for Jamie. Yet that’s not even the rock bottom of this movie as we know that JAMIE DOES NOT WANT TO FIGHT THE CANCER!!
With that round of treatment Anna walked in on being his last, Jamie really seems to be spitting into the wind of logic. My man does not want to get treatment to save his life despite A) having a lovely girlfriend, B) having a loving family, C) being a professor of POETRY of all things at Oxford, and D) being super hot. Look, this dummy doesn’t deserve to die, but he has as much common sense as a carpet burn. Yes, I’m throwing Jamie under the bus for comedic effect here, but I really gotta say that I am not impressed with the character writing. It’s hard to root for these star-crossed doomed lovers when they’re this daft. That’s really where my enjoyment for this movie falls down: being stuck with these two complete nincompoops.
I don’t mean to disparage the writers here, Allison Burnett and Melissa Osborne, but go take a look at their track records. They don’t really have a successful movie between them, with the former writing on one of those Underworld movies and the later writing on My Fault: London for Amazon Prime. They don’t scream great story tellers. Now Julia Whelan wrote the novel that this is based on, and apparently this is her first credit as part of a writing team. I feel like these three are the blind leading the blind with the lack of success and experience between them. Did I expect more from Netflix, though? Yes, but I really should not have. When you push out almost a movie a week maybe I should lower my expectations.
Rating: Didn’t Like It
My Oxford Year is currently streaming on Netflix
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