It would be unfair to blame Harry Styles for “After We Collided,” the sequel to 2019’s “After,” just because both films are based on a series of novels that evolved from One Direction fan-fiction. But he should maybe lie low for a bit because by the time the end credits roll like a potential warrant list, we are looking for someone — anyone — to blame.
“This is a story you’ve heard before,” drones the toneless opening voiceover, but thing is, we really haven’t, because this is not a story. It is a numbingly repetitive series of manufactured minor dramas between the two terminally self-involved, staggeringly uninteresting protagonists of the first film, which set the bar so low it has to be the result of special effort that the sequel fails to clear it. “After” was merely awful. “After We Collided” is atrocious. Naturally, it’s proving an enormous pandemic-era hit.
“This is a story you’ve heard before,” drones the toneless opening voiceover, but thing is, we really haven’t, because this is not a story. It is a numbingly repetitive series of manufactured minor dramas between the two terminally self-involved, staggeringly uninteresting protagonists of the first film, which set the bar so low it has to be the result of special effort that the sequel fails to clear it. “After” was merely awful. “After We Collided” is atrocious. Naturally, it’s proving an enormous pandemic-era hit.
- 10/1/2020
- by Jessica Kiang
- Variety Film + TV
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