Retrospective Review: Me and Earl and the Dying Girl

With the year coming to a close and “best of” discussions beginning (both casually amongst friends and for the site), I’m taking some time to delve into media that I did not consume when it first came out. I’m also revisiting some media so that I can be as informed as possible in these discussions. I’ve decided to turn this process into content, and so I’ll be reviewing as much of it as I can. In some cases, this is self-serving–I really want to write about Mad Max: Fury Road, for instance–In others, I’m watching something for the first time. For the most part, these reviews will be of film, though there may be some video games, TV, and comics mixed in there. The reviews may also be shorter than normal, considering the rapid pace at which I’m going. Who knows, maybe this could become an annual occurrence.

Me and Earl and the Dying Girl is a film that is nearly impossible to categorize, or even describe, in an efficient manner. Most films can just be described as “genre of film – differentiating feature.” For instance, Mad Max: Fury Road would be “Action – but with well developed and explored characters.” This is a game that I could play for hours, with pretty much every film I’ve ever seen. And I know I’m already 70+ words into my review and haven’t really said much about Me and Earl… but I’m trying to illustrate a point here. This film is so unlike its contemporaries that it can’t be classified. It’s sort of a coming of age story, sort of a romantic comedy; sort of a lot of things, in all honesty. However, it defies genre expectations to such a great extent that I feel comfortable calling it truly unique.

For those unfamiliar with Me and Earl and the Dying Girl, the title is pretty self-explanatory. The “Me” refers to the main character, Greg (Thomas Mann), and, as the title suggests it’s about him, Earl (RJ Cyler), and a dying girl (Rachel, played by Olivia Cooke). The three are high school seniors – Greg and Earl have been friends since kindergarten, and are social outcasts, of sorts. To them, Rachel is the outsider, but when she is diagnosed with leukemia, Greg is encouraged to reach out, despite barely knowing her.

So, I’ll admit, the basic premise is probably something you’ve all heard a million times before. That being said, there are a few ways in which the movie differentiates itself. First and foremost is the script, which is absolutely brilliant. The dialogue occasionally goes over the top, and there are times the movie revels in absurdity. However, it never feels out of place, surprisingly enough. Some of the credit here should be attributed to the cast, all of whom sell the lines exceptionally well throughout the course of the movie. The result is a sense of authenticity, which other films in similar settings often fail to establish.

Funnily enough, the way high school is represented here is unlike any high school I’ve ever observed. Granted, that has been exactly one, but it wasn’t that long ago and I can’t imagine it was all that abnormal. The script plays up tropes and stereotypes, exaggerating them to the point of disbelief. While this is by no means an accurate representation of how high school works, it is an accurate representation of how someone going through it views. That is the real genius of the movie – it is told perfectly from the perspective of a high school student. Everything is a big deal to Greg, from his sense of place in the ecosystem to his lack of a date for prom. It’s this that gives the film authenticity, and what really drives it.

It also helps that the writer Jesse Andrews (who also authored the novel on which the film is based) doesn’t shy away from complex emotional themes. No one in the film is truly a stereotype – no matter how hard they seem to be trying. All of the characters are immensely layered. Much of this is conveyed via subtext, especially where supporting characters are concerned. Despite not getting a ton of screen time, Mr. McCarthy (Joe Bernthal), Madison (Katherine C. Hughes), and Greg’s parents (Nick Offerman and Connie Britton) all feel like real people. This further lend’s to the film’s authenticity.

In terms of the actual themes, Andrews’ script is mind-blowingly mature in the way it deals with loss and the meaning of life. This may sound like pretentious hipster bullshit, but it’s true. The film never attempts to wrap up all of its themes with a neat little bow and teach the audience a cute little lesson about how life is valuable. This is because Andrews clearly understands that not everyone is a seven year old, and treats the audience like individuals capable of thinking critically.

For many films, this would apply solely to the ending (and it applies to the ending here), but the audience is provoked to think about the film;s themes throughout its run time. There’s no one point where characters have an epiphany that leads them to the answer to all their problems. The result is a super angsty vibe, in which the frustration of the characters is clear. Greg is prone to being self destructive, to the point that he becomes reminiscent of Marcus from Deadly Class – and like in Deadly Class, I felt real emotional pain when Greg’s life began to come apart – a testament to how well done the character work is.

Look, there’s no two ways about it: the film goes to some really heavy places, emotionally. Regardless, the whole affair ends up being rather uplifting, if a bit bittersweet. The script has a lot of quirk to it – just enough to give the film a sense of absurdity without it ever being cringe-worthy. The humor serves as a pressure-release valve, allowing the film to vent all of its pent up angst. It certainly helps that some of this is self-referential. There are multiple scenes in which the way the movies is written are clearly being mocked. This can feel a bit on the nose, but its played off well, and without too much of a “look at how clever we are coming up with this” attitude.

Me and Earl and the Dying Girl cannot be easily categorized. Describing it is also a rather large challenge, but I think there is a (relatively) concise way of accomplishing that. No, that’s not this review. Me and Earl and the Dying Girl is an emotional, but mature, journey through the mind of a young adult, that showcases the impact a single person can have on the life of others. It’s certainly a must-watch film – not only one of the best of this year, but in all likelihood will go down as a contemporary classic. It’s not perfect – it felt a little bit short, to be honest, and the acting faltered at points – but the film’s imperfections are ultimately irrelevant, in the grand scheme of things.