Juliet, Naked

Based on one of my favourite books of the last decade, Jesse Peretz's Juliet, Naked updated the premise but retained Nick Hornby's wry humour and spot-on fanboy geekiness of the pre-millenial generation coupled with his usual lad-lit sensibility and oddly insightful observation of post-90s relationship navigation.

Per cine-nomenclature, this film was an effective rom-com with enough elements of the former to tug but not be overwhelmingly saccherine; and peppered with lots of the latter to laugh and smile throughout without feeling excessively dumb.

All three of the principle cast were perfectly suited for their roles, and in this case, the men outshone the lady.

Ethan Hawke, with all his 90s baggage, was the ideal star to play a washed up, former It-boy. He brought along an effortless charm together with a scumbro-esque attitude, but beneath those layers was an emotional core that could write alt-indie songs of love and heartbreak. He was a believable leading man. A man-child that wants to grow up but has yet to.

Then we have Chris O'Dowd. He nailed the other spectrum of man-child. A fanboy that over analyses beyond the scope of intent and then becomes convinced of his own truth. O'Dowd was the comedic heart of the film and he is so funny only because there are truth in his performance.

Lastly, there is Rose Byrne who, in the vein of Renee Zewellger in Bridget Jones and Natalie McCutcheon in Love, Actually, played the pretty, but insecure, female love interest who has stupendously insight into her own life but just cannot seemed to externalise those thoughts. And of course, that gives the story its impetus to move forward, but it does not really do much for the feminism does it?

And in that respect, Juliet, Naked had always been more of lad-lit rather than a chick lit, and as a movie, it should be taken as nothing more than an entertaining rom-com. An escape from life and a reminder that Love exist. And you deserve it.