Romance is dead and Netflix has killed it

Katherine (Laura Dern) is a writer on a fancy writing vacation in Morocco. This is evident in the opening minute of the latest paint-by-numbers film on Netflix Lonely planetbecause the film begins with Katherine arriving at the airport in Morocco and immediately listening to a voicemail presumably from her literary agent (a disembodied voice that is never named or mentioned again): “You’re coming to this retreat today, don’t forget you.” I have The deadline was met because as an author you are writing a book.” Yes, I’m taking slight liberties with the wording here, but barely.

Katherine arrives at the retreat, which is, of course, in a palatial resort in the country, with gorgeous views and somehow devoid of any personality, as this is Netflix and they seem to believe that taste risks alienating some viewers, Just like you might worry about your whitest friend when it comes to spicy food.

But Katherine can’t really appreciate the (overly sterile) beauty of it all – she’s suffering from terrible writer’s block, a new experience for her, and a general feeling of boredom due to her recent breakup with her long-term partner.

In the meantime, the other authors arrive, especially Lily (Diana Silvers). She is the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed young woman, fresh from the critical and commercial success of her debut novel, exhilarated but deeply uncertain about her place in the world of literature. Except Lily herself isn’t really important here, in fact she’s barely a character, but she is a crucial cog in this narrative machine because, for somewhat inexplicable reasons, she’s brought along her boyfriend Owen (Liam Hemsworth), a financier who really doesn’t do much of anything the role holds a reader.

From the start, there’s a false sense of tension in Owen and Lily’s relationship; So much so that it’s hard to buy that these two people even became a couple. Even the plot of allowing the youngest participant to be a guest at a retreat like this is so unrealistic that it’s hard to ignore – especially considering that no one else seems to have brought a plus one. There is no WAG section here, just Owen. He feels out of place (because he is) and repeatedly confronts Lily about not prioritizing him enough and making him feel inferior. Some of his accusations have merit; Some others find being the only non-writer at a writers’ retreat an inevitable consequence. What exactly did you expect, my man?

It doesn’t take long before Katherine and Owen, the two people least excited about being there, cross paths, and their first conversation is perhaps the most uninspired “meet-cute” this reviewer has ever experienced has:

“Hey.”
“Hey.”
“Water.”
“Cell service. Barely.”
“Right.”

Romance is dead, people. Not just dead, but genuinely dead. Let’s just give up now.

The trajectory of Katherine and Owen’s relationship couldn’t be more inspiring. After brief initial protests, Katherine quickly leans into the chiseled distraction Owen provides, while Owen holds on to the attention of Katherine, the only person at the retreat who shows interest in him and doesn’t treat him like a functionally illiterate, since he doesn’t read Proust.

Dern and Hemsworth do their best to sell the chemistry, and later in the film there is the occasional glimmer of something if you look really closely and squint your eyes, as if you’re trying to spot the hidden image in one of these films Magic eye Books. But overall, their dynamic feels neither like a fast-paced seduction nor a heartwarming romance, but more like that of two serial monogamists who just happen to be practically close to each other. At one point, Lonely planet twists the knife by having Owen tell a waiter, in the mildest possible way, “I’ll have what she’s having.” Just in case anyone forgot that there used to be romance films capable of captivating people to actually feel something.

Lonely planet is written and directed by Susannah Grant (Incredible, Catch and release), but at this point it seems like Netflix as a company should share the credit. What’s remarkable is her ability to creatively direct projects from a Rolodex of different filmmakers to exactly the same uninspired shade of beige. When reviewing a film, it’s nice to be able to talk about the actual filmmaking, but as is painfully often the case with Netflix films, it’s like trying to describe a void. Nothing here is bad enough to warrant special criticism, but nothing here is good or notable enough to deserve special praise either. It’s utterly functional and irredeemably boring.

I’ve previously described the standard look and feel of a Netflix movie as “pasteurized filmmaking,” and that’s becoming more and more true as time goes on. Clarity is incredibly important in storytelling, but at Netflix in particular, there seems to be a strong tendency to mix clarity with oversimplification. No scene, no conversation, can take place on multiple levels – a necessity for great storytelling. The result is a steady stream of C-movies that are passable throughout, but little else. There is no nuance that rewards the attentive audience, no subtleties that entice repeat viewing. Even Laura Dern, for all her talent and charm, can only do so much with a character and a story as dynamic as reading a phone book.

If you need something in the background to keep you company while you fold laundry, there are worse options. But if you actually want to watch an age gap love story where the female lead is older and give him your full attention, Your idea or one of the other dozen or so such films that have come out in the last year or so might be a better choice.

Lonely planet is available to stream on Netflix.