Everything but the hurl

Every generation gets the dopey, drippy, star-crossed teenage romance that it deserves, I guess. And so here comes Stella Meghie’s self-conscious, phone-obsessed Everything, Everything, a story of sensitive souls falling in love over text messages and stolen glimpses, probably perfect for the swipe-right age of emotional disaffection and technological intimacy. Too bad, then, that the film is so slipshod and creaky, so devoid of energy, so dependent on hoary clichés and conventions instead of anything fresh and new.

Adapted by J. Mills Goodloe from a young adult novel written by Nicola Yoon, Everything, Everything stars Amandla Stenberg (the doomed Rue from The Hunger Games) and Nick Robinson (the leering older brother from Jurassic World) as Maddy and Olly, mutual outcasts separated by immunodeficiency. Maddy suffers from an extremely rare genetic disorder that renders her hypervulnerable to every infectious disease. A simple stroll to the curb could prove fatal.

Luckily, Maddy’s mom Pauline (Anika Noni Rose) is a successful, no-nonsense doctor, and she has created a gleaming suburban citadel to keep the germs out, complete with extensive air filters, irradiated clothes and a limited list of allowable houseguests. As the film opens, Maddy explains that she hasn’t left the house since getting diagnosed as an infant, connecting with the outside world through the internet while gazing longingly out of picture-window walls. The house is a futuristic fortress of bacteria-busting amenities, but Maddy still feels like a prisoner in her own home.

Fresh air is Maddy’s sworn enemy, but she’d risk it all for an emo-lite skater boy with dreamy hair. Enter Olly, who moves in next door with his family and their fuzzily sketched dysfunctions. Maddy and Olly are smitten with each other on first glance, flirting through text messages (Meghie renders their online activity as a physical space in a manner that rivals The Fifth Estate for clunky literalism) and making goo-goo eyes through the window.

Pauline would never allow a strange boy to enter Maddy’s airspace, so they conduct their affair in secret, finding an ally in Maddy’s loyal nurse Carla (Ana de la Reguera). Naturally, Pauline discovers the relationship, driving the two teens apart and forcing Maddy to make a decision that could cost her everything. The germ warfare angle aside, this is standard-issue YA romance stuff, but any potential for emotional investment is quickly wrecked by the nonexistent screen chemistry between Stenberg and Robinson. They’re both noticeably better when alone onscreen than when together.

For most of its blessedly brief running time, Everything, Everything is sweet, cute, disposable drivel, presumably well-intentioned in spirit if monotonous and amateurish in execution. But the film flushes away any goodwill in the closing minutes, dropping a galling yet utterly predictable plot twist, one that renders every overexplained affirmation related to Maddy’s disability completely moot. Even worse, Meghie and Goodloe gloss over the horrible implications and aftereffects of the revelation, instead hurtling toward the exit in embarrassment, much like the audience.