50/50

As a general rule, I’m not a crier. A mix of press screening professionalism, general cynicism and a black, black stone where my heart should be means that I scoffed through The Notebook and responded to the new John Lewis advert with the ultimate Ebenezer Scrooge observation of: “Yeah, but the kid’s like four, the present’s probably crap.”
During 50/50, I sobbed. Openly. Loudly. Repeatedly. Not because there are dramatic speeches, or rain-soaked love declarations, or the emotional dam-opening death of a beloved pet. But because, well, it’s goddamn cancer. What else can you do?
It’s a question asked by all of 50/50’s characters. Loosely based on the experience of writer Will Reiser and friend Seth Rogan, Joseph Gordon Levitt plays Adam, a meek 27-year-old so safety conscious that he refuses to drive. So when he’s diagnosed with a vicious form of cancer, he numbly goes into survival mode, while everyone around him quietly falls apart. His best friend, beautifully, gorgeously played by Seth Rogan, goes into autopilot clown mode, constantly trying to get Adam laid. His obsessive mother (a terrific Anjelica Huston) smothers Adam, while his 24-year-old trainee therapist (Anna Kendrick) finds herself at a loss to deal with this beautiful boy who’s walked into her office asking for help. There’s a devastating honesty to each performance as everyone scrambles to figure out what to do in a situation where nothing can be done.
Together with The Wackness director Jonathan Levine, Reiser has created a disarmingly honest and personal film that’s simultaneously hilarious and heartbreaking. Oozing the kind of chest-tightening resonance that can only come from real experience, 50/50 is never overwrought, maudlin or melodramatic, merely a gorgeously crafted story of flawed, quirk-filled and funny individuals who may not all have cancer, but are still its victims.
Screw cynicism and screw cancer. Watch this, cry and love life.