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Tear Jerker: the stars of Dear John, Amanda Seyfried and Channing Tatum

Dear John
Directed by Lasse Hollström, starring Amanda Seyfried and Channing Tatum
****

Like a handcrafted teddy bear from long ago, director Lasse Hollström’s Dear John is a sentimental pleasure that’s built to last. Its seams laid bare, its intentions somewhat inelegant, the big-screen adaptation of pap-master author Nicholas Sparks’ novel of love at an inopportune time nevertheless gets the job done — give women a good cry and a swoon.

A solid romantic weeper is a deceptively tough thing to pull off these days. Despite a can’t-lose source novel, last year’s The Time Traveler’s Wife failed to hit the mark. Who else is even trying it these days? P.S. I Love You? The Lake House? Hollywood has always specialized in this kind of thing. Hell, they used to win Oscars: The English Patient, Ghost, even Jerry Maguire may have been manipulative but it was usually a pleasure to be bludgeoned by their love buzz.

It pains me to point out that, besides Dear John, the last film to really get it right in the hanky department was The Notebook, another Sparks adaptation. It’s a cringe-worthy thought solely because Sparks’ novels, however popular they are, do not come close to the elevation that these two movies reach; instead, my credit will go to the adaptors.

Dear John boasts the talents of We Are Marshall screenwriter Jamie Linden and Hallström, who was once inimitable in the coming-of-age field before his latter-day crimes (Casanova, The Shipping News). That crew has stocked their story with a magnetic coupling in the form of Channing Tatum and Amanda Seyfried, whose impossibly bouncy blonde mane and ethereal gaze matches perfectly with Tatum’s long-bodied lug. As the maidenly Savannah, she clings to and drapes herself over John, a Special Forces soldier of few words and a hot temper. Savannah isn’t dumb: she knows what falling for a military man entails and they decide to enjoy the little time they have together before his final year of enlistment.

When 9/11 strikes, however, John’s sense of duty (and, let’s face it, the “stop-loss” policy) promises to keep them apart for an insufferable period. In an attempt to stay close, the two exchange countless handwritten letters as the time passes. If that isn’t antiquated enough, when Savannah questions their future, that titular wartime greeting comes into play.

Add to that John’s father’s autism, another autism subplot besides, Savannah’s dream of opening an equestrian camp for kids, John’s questionable past and a jealous rival, Dear John should be the most gag-worthy piece of folderol this side of Brendan Fraser. But the film, and its makers, face these contrivances head on, without irony, and stick to their belief in the couple at hand. It’s a good move; Seyfried and Tatum lock in on each other and never let go, existing wholly within both the quiet moments and the tortured bombast.

The film, in turn, respects their pairing by resisting easy outs like simple miscommunications or bad choices chalked up to teenhood. The characters stay smart and focused on their love, however challenging it may be, and, like the movie itself, that’s no small feat.