Review: Every Day (2018)

 77/100

When David Levithan wrote his novel Every Day (2012), he had composed a transcendental story of an entity, unambiguously named A, who struggles to find an identity as he goes about his continuous transfers between human bodies and learns through a beautiful teenage girl a language he can never dearly possess: love. As the title of a book by Mark Manson I'm currently reading suggests, everything is fucked. Its emotions, which we render basic, break space and time; no matter how far he goes, he is always close to that one person.

But when Levithan was approached with a film adaptation of Every Day, I think there is this sudden realization, that not everything one side sees as transcendent is equally transcendent to others. The novel and film exist in a simple setting because at its heart, it is a simple story of love and identity. It transcends where we don't notice, and the film does show those moments in all its audiovisual glory... even if, to me, it never met Levithan's true glory.

We center upon Rhionna, a 16-year-old in a relationship with Justin, who is, to quote her friend Rebecca, a dick. Until he suddenly is not. This happened for only a day though, and he retreats to his true nature the next morning. Slowly, we learn that it was never Justin, it was A. Justin never loved her, A loved her. In a subtle demisexual-coded arc, Rhi decided she would hang out with whoever A possesses every day. This, of course, comes with challenges, and so every new day, the film observes Rhi, A, and eventually others around them tackle it.

And boy is this film not easy to process. A's constant shifts (it possessed a whopping 14 amount of bodies) consistently baffle me, and it's not that it is a bad story, but stories like these aren't meant to be adapted. If it really wanted to steal all my heart, it would have had to be a sweeping epic. It would not have had to omit all the cheesy romance, as cinema has seen with Your Name (2016). But of course, this is not what screenwriter Jesse Andrews aimed for, and what happens is this imbalance between, Do I want to make an impressively creative fantasy, or do I want to make a YA popcorn movie? The film certainly is the latter, but its flashes of the former subtheme are quite jarring.

The best moments in the film are when the filmmakers did not try to combine the two elements, and just stayed with what they agreed on. When pushed to its true potential, Every Day can be very full-of-heart and gut-punching, in times none of us expect. The film doesn't shy away from its source material's poignant study of love, and doesn't try to show teenage romance as one-sided; it comes with layers. Rogier Stoffer's cinematography and Kathryn Himoff's editing hugely amplify that, with static shots brightened by expressive color choices, polished by the digital intermediate team at EFILM.

This sadly does not prevent the film from being inevitably scarred, and at least by acknowledging its innate weaknesses, I can appreciate its existence.

See, although it is clear this film isn't meant and can't be as transcendent as the novel, that became a huge hole in the film. A just had to be fantastical, but we just see it as sentient, normal. I don't see its spiritual qualities, and I just can't fathom how Rhi can switch between manifests so easily, when she is seemingly very aware that she is giving off some huge-ass polyamorous vibes. The suspension of disbelief is nonexistent here, and the whole film pretty much just felt like the behind-the-scenes video of a sci-fi film. We only get to witness the film's unflattering green screens (or blue screens, whatever). However in my opinion, this is in no way director Michael Sucsy's fault; considering its source, he has done a remarkably good job.

Every Day definitely shares some spiritual qualities with To All the Boys I've Loved Before (2018), a YA adaptation about a girl who had multiple crushes and who in one moment all gathered together. But unlike here, that film managed to radiate the characters' heat at the moment. Every Day does this ever so often, but it's momentary-- like, every two minutes within 10 minutes, against its 97-minute runtime. Though if I have to comply with Rhi by ending everything "on a nice note", the filmmakers were blessed with a cast as brilliant as the ones in To All the Boys. Angourie Rice shines the whole film with her explorative character, and all those who played manifests of A managed to give off the entity's mysterious and charismatic vibe. In technical merits, Every Day succeeds with flying colors.

The film is an MGM production, and like a lot of their films, it is striking and fresh in its regard, despite not living up to its expected standards, especially as pressed upon the novel's fans. Many have criticized the deviance from the original plot, but we have to remember two things. First, Levithan consulted on the film and approved it. Second, no matter the level of authenticity, my grievances will remain the same. Like love itself, Every Day scars, but in the end, Every Day also heals.

Every Day can be viewed digitally and physically