Let's get a couple of things straight. This movie is rated R for sexual content but Emmy Rossum does not get naked in it. If that's what you're looking for, trust me, you won't find it here. What you will find is one of the reasons movie critics get so cranky. When you see a critic who appears overly harsh about a film's flaws, it could be because he or she has seen those same flaws in so many other movies. That's what happens with Dare. It does something I've seen in at least 2 or 3 other films and not only does it never work, I don't think it can work and don't understand why anyone ever thinks it would.
What Dare does is completely shift its focus from one character to another as it goes along. I'm not talking about focusing on many different people whose stories intersect or even telling the same story over again with different perspectives. I'm talking about one continuous story where the main character simply changes as you watch, oftentimes with a little notice on screen to indicate the change.
Where this storytelling device comes from is a mystery to me. What I am clear on is that it's defective, at least in the context of a motion picture. Whatever the theory or intent, the practical effect of doing this in a film is to ask the audience to do the same thing over and over again. At the start of the movie, the viewer is introduced to a character and asked to take an interest in their life. Then that character is either ejected or relegated to the background and the viewer is introduced to another character and asked to take an interest in their life. And that's repeated again and sometimes again and again and again.
The problem with this should be obvious. If the audience actually takes interest in the first character you show them, that's who they want to watch. They don't want that person to be replaced by some other character, either one they haven't seen before or one they have but has been established as a minor character in their minds. The first 10 or 15 minutes of a motion picture is usually when people figure out if they want to watch it or not. Rotating the main character is asking people to go through that introductory process over and over and that's not a natural thing.
Dare rotates through three main characters. Alexa (Emmy Rossum) is a virginal theater chick in her high school. Her story is about how she's emotionally repressed and inexperienced and how being taunted about that by a well known alumnus of her school transforms her into a slut. Next up to bat is Alexa's best friend Ben (Ashley Springer). His story is about how he's gay and well, that's pretty much it. The commonality of the first two segments is that Alexa and Ben both have their first sexual encounter with the same guy. He's Johnny (Zach Gilford) and he takes over as the main character in the third and thankfully final part of the movie. After being shown as the cool but still somewhat dickish most popular kid in school, Johnny's segment is about how he's really even more screwed up than either Alexa and Ben because blah, blah blah. Alexa's story is the only one I cared about and it gets shoved off screen just as they start to show the fallout of her making a radical change in her life, replacing it with the utterly-by-the-numbers tales of Ben and Johnny.
Well, utterly-by-the-numbers isn't accurate. Ben has sex with Johnny after he knows Alexa and Johnny have boinked and Johnny knows Alexa and Ben are best friends when he and Ben do it. I know kids today are supposed to be more sexually fluid, but that's pretty twisted and Dare loses its last chance to engage the audience by having Ben be totally unconcerned by such bed hopping, Johnny treating it like having to choose between chocolate and vanilla ice cream and Alexa acting as though the cross-copulating is like eating your salad with the wrong fork.
By the time Dare wraps up, it's clear that Alexa was ultimately a supporting character to Johnny's story and Ben was barely more than a bit part, even though the ending to Johnny's story happens entirely off camera. That's the kind of nonsensical structure you get from rotating main characters. It doesn't work and filmmakers need to stop doing it.
The acting and the direction of Dare are fine and the dialog is unmemorable, but none of that matters because it's so poorly structured. If this film were a house, it would be condemned and the only ones who could live in it would be families of raccoons. I could have overlooked that if Emmy Rossum had gotten naked. She doesn't, so I can't.
What Dare does is completely shift its focus from one character to another as it goes along. I'm not talking about focusing on many different people whose stories intersect or even telling the same story over again with different perspectives. I'm talking about one continuous story where the main character simply changes as you watch, oftentimes with a little notice on screen to indicate the change.
Where this storytelling device comes from is a mystery to me. What I am clear on is that it's defective, at least in the context of a motion picture. Whatever the theory or intent, the practical effect of doing this in a film is to ask the audience to do the same thing over and over again. At the start of the movie, the viewer is introduced to a character and asked to take an interest in their life. Then that character is either ejected or relegated to the background and the viewer is introduced to another character and asked to take an interest in their life. And that's repeated again and sometimes again and again and again.
The problem with this should be obvious. If the audience actually takes interest in the first character you show them, that's who they want to watch. They don't want that person to be replaced by some other character, either one they haven't seen before or one they have but has been established as a minor character in their minds. The first 10 or 15 minutes of a motion picture is usually when people figure out if they want to watch it or not. Rotating the main character is asking people to go through that introductory process over and over and that's not a natural thing.
Dare rotates through three main characters. Alexa (Emmy Rossum) is a virginal theater chick in her high school. Her story is about how she's emotionally repressed and inexperienced and how being taunted about that by a well known alumnus of her school transforms her into a slut. Next up to bat is Alexa's best friend Ben (Ashley Springer). His story is about how he's gay and well, that's pretty much it. The commonality of the first two segments is that Alexa and Ben both have their first sexual encounter with the same guy. He's Johnny (Zach Gilford) and he takes over as the main character in the third and thankfully final part of the movie. After being shown as the cool but still somewhat dickish most popular kid in school, Johnny's segment is about how he's really even more screwed up than either Alexa and Ben because blah, blah blah. Alexa's story is the only one I cared about and it gets shoved off screen just as they start to show the fallout of her making a radical change in her life, replacing it with the utterly-by-the-numbers tales of Ben and Johnny.
Well, utterly-by-the-numbers isn't accurate. Ben has sex with Johnny after he knows Alexa and Johnny have boinked and Johnny knows Alexa and Ben are best friends when he and Ben do it. I know kids today are supposed to be more sexually fluid, but that's pretty twisted and Dare loses its last chance to engage the audience by having Ben be totally unconcerned by such bed hopping, Johnny treating it like having to choose between chocolate and vanilla ice cream and Alexa acting as though the cross-copulating is like eating your salad with the wrong fork.
By the time Dare wraps up, it's clear that Alexa was ultimately a supporting character to Johnny's story and Ben was barely more than a bit part, even though the ending to Johnny's story happens entirely off camera. That's the kind of nonsensical structure you get from rotating main characters. It doesn't work and filmmakers need to stop doing it.
The acting and the direction of Dare are fine and the dialog is unmemorable, but none of that matters because it's so poorly structured. If this film were a house, it would be condemned and the only ones who could live in it would be families of raccoons. I could have overlooked that if Emmy Rossum had gotten naked. She doesn't, so I can't.