Movie Review - 'Like Crazy' - After All These Years In Drake Doremus' drama Like Crazy, a young couple is forced to separate when one of them violates the terms of her student visa. Movie critic David Edelstein says the movie is painful and compelling — and reminds him of Richard Linklater's Before Sunrise.
NPR logo

'Crazy' In Love, And Feeling Every Moment Of It

  • Download
  • <iframe src="" width="100%" height="290" frameborder="0" scrolling="no" title="NPR embedded audio player">
  • Transcript
'Crazy' In Love, And Feeling Every Moment Of It


'Crazy' In Love, And Feeling Every Moment Of It

  • Download
  • <iframe src="" width="100%" height="290" frameborder="0" scrolling="no" title="NPR embedded audio player">
  • Transcript

DAVID BIANCULLI, host: The new film "Like Crazy" won the Grand Jury prize at this year's Sundance Film Festival and it's costar, Felicity Jones, snagged the "Best Acting" award as well. The romantic drama about first love is the second feature by director Drake Doremus. Film critic David Edelstein has a review.

DAVID EDELSTEIN: Movies are often about falling in love and sometimes falling out of love, but the best for my money are about falling in and out of love in a way you'd need a higher form of physics to graph. Our higher physicist could start with Drake Doremus's drama "Like Crazy," which evokes as well as any film I've seen the now loopy, now jagged flow from infatuation to intoxication to addiction to withdrawal to re-addiction.

It's not an especially deep or psychological movie. It's just crazy painful. The boy, Jacob, played by Anton Yelchin, is American; the girl, Anna, played by Felicity Jones, British. They're in the same L.A. college, the same media-studies course. After the last class, she leaves a long note for him under his windshield that says, please don't think I'm a nutcase, but ...

He comes to see her; they look at each other, and they know. She has big eyes and big English teeth that give her an appealing forwardness. He has curly hair and tender skin. They're both so young, so giddy, so undefended. The hand-held camera gets all giddy, too. It moves in close, scanning one upturned face and then the other.

Doremus pulls you in deep. The last time I felt so immersed in a young-love story was at Richard Linklater's "Before Sunrise." But that was a meeting of minds, a talk fest, whereas "Like Crazy" happens at a pre-verbal level. At one point, snapshots of the couple sleeping and smooching and frolicking by the beach take the place of scenes, but it doesn't feel like one of those bland montages to break up the dialogue. The images feel as if they're being spit out of a photo booth in our collective unconscious.

Something comes between them, of course, but the impediments aren't absurdly easy to overcome as in most romantic comedies, nor are they soaked in fatalism, as in doomed-lover psychodramas like last year's "Blue Valentine." Jacob and Anna can't tear themselves away from each other, so she impulsively overstays her visa and then, after a trip home, isn't allowed back into the U.S.

And so begins the grueling, last two-thirds of "Like Crazy," in which they're not quite together, yet by no means apart. He's building a furniture-design business in Venice Beach while she's making waves writing for a London-based magazine. There are other lovers in the picture. Jacob has a relationship with his assistant, played by Jennifer Lawrence.

But when he phones Anna in London, it's hard for them both to stay cheerfully impersonal.



ANTON YELCHIN: (As Jacob) Hey. How are you?

JONES: (As Anna) I'm OK. Yeah. I just, I just – it was a bit of a shock.

YELCHIN: (As Jacob) Well, what have you been doing?

JONES: (As Anna) Yes. That's, that's going – going well. Has it been good for you?

YELCHIN: (As Jacob) That's great to hear.

JONES: (As Anna) Yeah. I just, I hope it carries on.

YELCHIN: (As Jacob) It's nice to hear your voice. I'm so sorry I woke you up.

JONES: (As Anna) OK. Well, I better go before it gets too late and I have to be up.

YELCHIN: (As Jacob) All right. Good-bye. I'll talk to you later, all right?

JONES: (As Anna) OK. Bye. Bye, Jacob.

YELCHIN: (As Jacob) OK, bye.

JONES: (As Anna) Bye-bye.


YELCHIN: (As Jacob) Hello?

JONES: (As Anna) Hey.

YELCHIN: (As Jacob) Hey.

JONES: (As Anna) Yeah, if you want to come over, come over now. And I'll just be here.

YELCHIN: (As Jacob) Yeah.

JONES: (As Anna) Yeah.

YELCHIN: (As Jacob) Yeah, I'll see you in half an hour.

JONES: (As Anna) I'll see you in half an hour.

YELCHIN: (As Jacob) Give me a couple of days. I'll get there, OK?

JONES: (As Anna) OK.

EDELSTEIN: That quaver in Felicity Jones's voice, that laugh spilling over into a sob, that's it right there, the tone of "Like Crazy". Jones and Yelchin have the rawness, the spontaneity of little kids. She's like a 12-year-old girl playing at being a sophisticate, and when he grows facial hair, it's like a 14-year-old's first sad beard. Neither can bear the weight of their first love, but who can, really?

"Like Crazy" has a lively syntax and could, in an ungrateful mood, be described as slick. But Doremus gets the tempos right. The movie jumps when it needs to and stops for long, awkward, agonizing scenes when it must. The question hangs: Is this true love or a crazy infatuation prolonged by bizarre circumstances?

Have Jacob and Anna even gotten past the stage of projecting their true-love fantasies onto each other? I don't think they know. On the basis of the ending, I don't think the director knows. It's the ambiguity that makes "Like Crazy" so compelling and, in its madcap way, so sane.

BIANCULLI: David Edelstein is film critic for New York magazine.

Copyright © 2011 NPR. All rights reserved. Visit our website terms of use and permissions pages at for further information.

NPR transcripts are created on a rush deadline by Verb8tm, Inc., an NPR contractor, and produced using a proprietary transcription process developed with NPR. This text may not be in its final form and may be updated or revised in the future. Accuracy and availability may vary. The authoritative record of NPR’s programming is the audio record.