The Last Song Reviews
Here's the revelation: Miley Cyrus is a really interesting movie star in the making, with an intriguing echo-of-foghorn speaking voice, and a scuffed-up tomboyish physicality (in the Kristen Stewart mode) that sets her apart from daintier girls.
It can't manage to sort through its various issues in any dramatically compelling way, instead falling into a slack, soap-opera rhythm in which potentially catastrophic developments seem to have no lasting emotional effects.
It's hard to believe this bland starlet is the same spunky kid who bounced through the Hannah Montana movie just last year, but it's only fair to cut Cyrus some slack.
The movie moves Ms. Cyrus from where she was to more or less where she and her handlers wanted to be, and Mr. Kinnear's musician father, Steve, adds a generous measure of grace.
Sand dunes at sunset, summer lovin' (had me a blast!), a third-act medical crisis and a clutch of letters designed to be read aloud in voice-over: Another month, another adaptation of a Nicholas Sparks romance.
Years on the Hannah Montana TV series have not adequately prepared Miley Cyrus for screen acting, even in a vehicle as unchallenging as this adaptation of a Nicholas Sparks novel.
Robinson is a sympathetic director of actors, allowing almost everyone their dignity. For the most part, she keeps this emotionally charged story in the schmaltz-free zone.