After

It's a movie well made for its target audience.

The key to the book's success lies in its artful amateurism. It replicates the tone of one teen confiding in another and in this anodyne screen translation, its intimacy is lost.

The real problem with After is that it's a lifeless slog of thinly written clichés, one that's missing the charismatic spark of the actual One Direction boys.

Come back, Twilight, all is forgiven.

The kind of dispiriting effort that thinks it's scratching an itch for masochistic young girls, but primarily suggests that romance, desire and sexuality aren't worth genuinely exploring.

The problems may lie in Todd's novel, but regardless, characters act illogically, as though written by someone who napped through most of Intro to Psych and skipped English 101 altogether.

This really is a dumpster fire of a movie, so please save your money for something more worthwhile.

After is also one of those teen dramas where every emotion has to be underscored by a pop-song and a hair is never out of place.

Adapted from young adult fan fiction, not much happens in this adolescent love story, yet it becomes weirdly interesting.

Of such deficient quality that it's unfathomable people will actually pay for a ticket to see this.