Editor's Note: In Cinema de Gym, Kurt writes about whichever piece of whichever movie was playing while he cardio'ed. I wish my gym would play movies! 

Kurt here with the second Cinema de Gym column about a film I never even knew was out there (here's the first). The Rachel Bilson quirk romance Waiting for Forever does have a certain sweetness, but it's pretty hugely un-special. It's the kind of film that can make you cry a little inside. We spend so much time dissecting all the product, Hollywood or otherwise, that's funneled into theaters each week that it's easy to lose sight of just how many freaking hours, dollars, brain cells and, by god, people it takes to complete a feature film production. It's one thing to have a little-seen movie slowly amass a cult following or wind up a critics' fave, but what about films like this that don't seem to have any audience at all?

Unless there's some Waiting for Forever fan club I don't know about, this has all the signs of being a speck on the cinema landscape that's really not worth anyone's time. And there are thousands of these, many barely able to pay the crew. All cynicism aside, and with full consideration given to risk-taking and an artist's legitimate need to create, wouldn't it have been better to just bag it altogether? As a colleague of mine points out regularly, weren't there any prescient souls on set who could've spoken up to say, “Guys, this baby is doomed. Why don't we all just go home? I have to put my kid to sleep.” I guess they just didn't have the heart to give their two cents. I feel for those people.

Which is not to say Waiting for Forever is terrible, at least not judging by what I saw. It seemed innocent enough, and largely inoffensive, if irritatingly feigned. It's an overeager boy-chases-girl drama that thinks hollow affectations will give it an instant indie spirit. Will (the gruffly cute Tom Sturridge) is a juggling street performer who always wears pajamas, just in case you couldn't tell he was a little eccentric. For years, apparently, he's been stalking following Emma (Bilson), a girl he knew as a child and has loved ever since. They've only just reconnected, it seems, as she came back to their hometown and he finally felt it was the right time to be more than just a shadow. Naturally, the revelation that Will has long been begging for a restraining order is reserved for the all-is-lost moment, when Emma finally lets him in only to allow her gosh-darned, societally-ingrained good sense to overrule the fact that he's a kind-hearted, well-intended creeper. Before that point, they're seen visiting the soda shop of their youth, every detail of which Will vocally recalls with a kind of Peter Pan nonchalance, uncaring – or unaware – that his boyish ramblings are raising eyebrows. Emma seems mildly charmed and intrigued, but the character isn't developed enough, nor is Bilson good enough, for you to to truly tell. Watching Will, she's more or less shruggingly disengaged, as insubstantial as his jammies. 

There's a cute bit in a park where the old friends reminisce on a jungle gym, followed by a familiar domestic scene in which Emma argues with a volatile militaristic boyfriend (Matthew Davis) who's obligatorily bad for her. But if the film is to go the obvious route and ultimately drop Emma in Will's arms (I didn't get anywhere near that far), it doesn't seem she'd be much better off, as Will, while benevolent, appears genuinely unstable – more unstable, I'd guess, than the film means for him to appear. Despite Sturridge's efforts, this isn't just your average sympathy-for-the-weirdo scenario. From what I gathered, it seemed pretty plausible that Will might truly snap one day and try to use Emma's head for a juggling ball. Now there's a movie worth making!

 

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