Five Feet Apart

There's a sincerity here that undoes many of its excesses, thanks largely to the grounded chemistry of its leads.

There's a million books like this and a million movies like this, where people are beautiful -- but they're sick!

The plot is believable - right up to the heart-in-the-mouth turns near the end - and the dialogue sounds real. That is a good start in any movie, but in this case it powers on from there because of the A-grade performances of the two young leads.

Sprouse and Richardson are proven heavyweights in the young-adult pocket of Hollywood, but this soft-hearted teen romance spreads on sugary sentiment too thickly to leave a lasting message.

I cried. I was moved by it... the film was done in a manner that seemed good-hearted.

Richardson and Sprouse attack their roles with gusto, never patronising the material.

But that ending. It doesn’t quite kill the good that comes before it, but it comes mighty close.

Five Feet Apart suffers from the same clichés as most of the decade’s YA romantic dramas while having to stomach the manipulation of trivializing an illness that can be terminal.

Five Feet Apart uses illness as a plot device to heighten emotions rather than simply allowing compelling characters to tell their own stories.

No one in the project can overcome the sick-flick genre's cliches...