Chris Evans still loves to play the hero. Even as he tries his hand at working behind the camera with his directorial debut, Before We Go, the character he plays in front of it embodies the tired notion that trying to save the day is charming and exactly what a stranded woman needs. With a screenplay credited to Ron Bass (Rain Man), among others, and obvious influences from the likes of Richard Linklater’s Before Sunrise and even Woody Allen’s Manhattan, the film desperately tries to bring something new to the walking-and-talking film tradition. Unfortunately, it’s a cloying meet-cute romance with disturbingly one-dimensional characters portrayed by wooden actors.
The leads’ first meeting is certainly clichéd enough. Nick (Evans) is a med school dropout still dreaming of becoming a professional jazz trumpeter and still moping over a breakup after six years. He is prepping for an audition by busking in Grand Central Station when art consultant Brooke (Alice Eve) misses the final train to Boston. Now she has no way of getting home. Her phone is broken, and—to top it all off—her purse has been stolen. Cue Captain America, whose superpower here is sniffing out desperation. Brooke is in a certifiable jam and must get home before 8 A.M. Or else. Why? For the first two acts, that’s a little fuzzy.
Nick is a Nice Guy™, and it’s no surprise when he balks at Brooke’s denial of his assistance: “I didn’t realize I was taking up all the space at the front of the line of guys trying to help you.” And this troubling savior complex continues to assert itself throughout the night. At every failed attempt, Nick proudly announces, “I’ve got an idea.” And they’re all awful. He waltzes into a fencing operation to retrieve her purse and, naturally, gets a fist in the face. He prices a taxi ride to Boston but can’t pay $500 with his expired credit card. Never mind that he could have simply given Brooke his $80 for a hotel room and called it a night.
When he finally finds a borrowed cell phone (because his battery is dead, of course) for Brooke to call a friend, we discover the dilemma that’s been causing her to act like Cinderella. Her husband has been having an affair. With the husband away on business, Brooke decided to leave a letter and her ring and hightail it to NYC. The trouble is, she’s having second thoughts. Why? Brooke claims to have suddenly realized that she loves her husband and that, if she leaves now, she will be throwing away their future together. It would seem that Bass and fellow scriptwriters Jen Smolka, Chris Shafer and Paul Vicknair impose this unconvincing commitment to marriage on Brooke to project an unrequited love aspect on her relationship with Nick. After all, she’s only a prop in his story, providing the sounding board his character requires to reach a finale where Nick can tell his past self (in a Before Sunrise-aped pretend phone call), “You’re gonna meet somebody…You’re gonna need her a lot more than she needs you. And at the end of the night…just give her a kiss, wish her good luck and thank her. Thank her for showing you that you can love more than one person in this life.” Delivered as it is in Evans’ stilted voice, the line is just as vomit-inducing as you’d expect.
Chris Evans exhibits a great deal of bravery choosing to helm such an actor-driven piece on his debut but over-relies on simplistic devices to create the melodramatic indie mood the script fails to convey. When his characters get tired of talking or when transitioning between set-pieces, montages with a surprising number of light jump cuts are the go-to, as is quiet indie rock to give the proceedings some tangible emotion. And, unfortunately for viewers, Evans’ commitment to longer, (extremely shaky) handheld takes gives it a real-time feel, making the film’s 89 minutes seem even longer. Before We Go‘s main flaw is in emulating well-known, more successful movies but with second-rate characters and very little creativity. Sadly, Nick and Brooke are incredibly boring characters whose ideals in the realm of romance are not only trying on viewers but overly contrived barriers to sensible behavior.