{shortcode-96e71a2d23970c7de16460e8bde13e6c1c23d777}

Cult favorite studio and distributor A24’s newest collaboration with Apple TV+, “The Sky Is Everywhere,” relies on aesthetics to move viewers where plot, premise, and dialogue fall short. Based on Jandy Nelson’s 2010 YA novel of the same name, the film follows teenager Lennie Walker (Grace Kaufman) through the ups-and-downs of grieving, falling in love, and rediscovering her voice in the wake of her older sister Bailey’s sudden death. Punctuated by vibrant flashback sequences, scenes of magical realism reminiscent of those in Jon Chu’s 2021 adaptation of “In The Heights,” and breathtaking shots of the redwood forest, “The Sky Is Everywhere” is cinematically creative and visually stunning. A standout soundtrack featuring everything from Bach to a poignant piano sample of Ashe’s “Moral of the Story” makes the film equally pleasing to the ear as it is to the eye.

Unfortunately, the inspired artistic direction is wasted on a plot riddled with every cliché the young adult genre is often mocked for: an unconvincing love triangle (if you can even call it that), vaguely referenced dead parents, sibling rivalry, secret teen pregnancy, a one-dimensional mean girl who dresses like a wannabe Jackie Kennedy, Juilliard ambitions (albeit slightly more plausible than Troy Bolton’s), and a token quirky POC best friend — just to name a few of many overused tropes. The dialogue often feels canned, and many of the characters’ motivations are never made clear. The nature of several relationships are confusing as most characters display shockingly little empathy or emotional intelligence and are quick to turn on one another, then just as quick to make up.

Commendably, “The Sky Is Everywhere” does attempt to address many of the very real but often taboo realities of losing a loved one. During a voice-over sequence preceding the entrance of romantic lead Joe Fontaine (Jacques Colimon), Lennie admits that “the weirdest part of grief, the most inappropriate part, is that all of a sudden since Bailey died, I can’t stop thinking about just falling into someone’s arms.” The relationship between desire and grief is further complicated when Lennie and Toby, Shaw, Bailey’s longtime boyfriend and secret fiancé, share several confusing romantic moments while connecting over losing the person who mattered most to both of them. Toby reads unsettlingly older than 17-year-old Lennie, but the unbalanced power dynamic is addressed: Lennie and Toby recognize their attraction towards one another as misplaced and go their separate ways before the line of undeniable creepiness is crossed.

The casting is in some ways on point and in other ways completely misses the mark. At 19, Grace Kaufman is convincing as a highschooler and delivers a heartfelt performance as Lennie that saves the story from falling completely flat. 27-year-old Jacques Colimon brings a boyish enthusiasm to his portrayal of Joe Fontaine, the musical boy genius with commitment issues who Lennie falls for, a strong contrast to the third leg of the quasi-love triangle, Toby, played by 30-year-old Pico Alexander. With excellent comic timing, Jason Segel and Cherry Jones are perfectly typecast as Lennie’s endearing stoner Uncle Big and unapologetically candid Grandma Fiona, though neither add much emotional weight to scenes intended to be tear-jerking climaxes of the movie.

An opportunity for an original take on the classic teenage dramedy presents itself in Lennie’s passion for the clarinet. The impact of trauma and grief on artistic performance — especially in an arena as exacting and demanding as orchestral music — is a compelling topic seldom discussed in popular culture, or real life. Using loss and eventual rediscovery of clarinet as a metaphor for experiencing the stages of grief, Lennie’s identity as a musician sets up some truly gorgeous surrealist montage sequences that visualize her magical experience of music. Unsure about continuing to pursue her dream of going to Juilliard now that she will no longer be able to share it with Bailey, who hoped to attend for acting, Lennie finds herself unable to play and quits the honor band at school. It is only with Joe’s relentless nagging and encouragement that Lennie finally picks up the clarinet again and finds she can still play with ease, neatly wrapping up the music storyline and letting it fade to background noise.

When applied to content rather than aesthetics, the principles of maximalism, free-spiritedness, and youthful hyper-saturation that make “The Sky Is Everywhere” sensorially stunning only serve to create a disjointed and hollow script whose inconsistencies cannot be fully smoothed over by any amount of artistic embellishment. Ultimately, fans of whimsical storytelling and beautifully overstated cinematography might be better off waiting for Josephine Decker’s next film.