As everyone grows up and enters their teenage years, there’s this underlying belief that we’re living like there’s no tomorrow. It’s the old live fast, die young policy that has fueled the sentimentality of the best coming of age stories, and it’s definitely one of the tools that makes Babyteeth (2020) a thrilling and emotional journey into an unlikely love story. However, there is something even more striking about its protagonist Milla (Eliza Scanlen). She isn’t just going through the motions. There’s a good chance that she might actually die by the time that the story ends because she is “seriously ill.”
Whereas most of us live like there’s no tomorrow, Milla is someone who may not actually have one. It’s this mentality that makes the opening especially striking as she meets Moses (Toby Wallace) at a train station. Milla is just waiting to board while Moses seems to be more reckless. Had he not bumped into her, he might by splayed across the front side in bloody detail. It’s a sadistic meet-cute story that director Shannon Murphy promises will be a bit more endearing going forward. For now, it’s the introduction of an unlikely pair: a terminally ill girl and Moses: a drug dealer with a not too great home life.
That isn’t to say that Milla’s home life is flawless, though the acceptance of Moses is initially rejected because of his rowdy reputation. After all, Milla’s life is fragile and it would be tragic to see her go down such a dark and destructive road that could cut her life even shorter. As she attends school from underneath wigs hiding her bald head, she feels like an outcast in normalized society. The wig symbolizes her own hidden issues, unable to express her true self with anyone, save for her family and Moses. That is where things begin to fade back towards a familiar teenage drama. It’s where this story of outcast love begins to blossom.
There are many reasons that Milla’s parents Anna (Essie Davis) and Henry (Ben Mendelsohn) eventually accept him. For starters, Moses is your typical misunderstood boy, looking for direction when his family doesn’t offer him support. It’s also because this radical relationship isn’t the only dysfunctional dynamic in the whole story. Henry is a psychiatrist whose access to drug prescriptions allows him to sell drugs in a more proverbial sense. He’s also in the middle of an affair with a pregnant woman. Everyone in Babyteeth has emotional problems, needing validation in different ways. It makes Milla and Moses’ seem much more quaint.
This isn’t to say that the rest of the story is necessarily that strange or different. Once you accept the relationship dynamics, they begin to seem like normal people. You understand that Anna and Henry allowing their daughter to date Moses is not some act of negligence. It’s this acceptance that her life is more fragile and that she needs to have some happiness in her life. In some ways, the parents’ personal struggles were captured in how selfish and protective they were, not wanting their daughter to be lead down a wrong path. Once it’s clear that Moses won’t do that, the dynamic becomes richer.
Moses practically becomes a member of the family. He moves in with them and discovers what a better, more loving, life is. This isn’t just a romance between teens, but an understanding that comes from opening up and listening to others. Moses may still be a wild card, but he’s also someone who deeply cares. You can see it on Milla’s face as she lies in bed, having these private in-jokes that fill her life with meaning. So long as Moses is around, she’ll be safe.
Babyteeth serves as Murphy’s directorial debut, and it’s likely that this story has a lot of personal subtexts. It’s clear not only in its Australian setting but also in its use of music. Anna is a music teacher, so her love of piano informs the more classical selections, these simple melodies that she encourages Milla to play when friends are over. Its sweet and peaceful, clashing with the more manic pop selections that reflect her relationship with Moses. At every turn, the music is used to reflect a divide that exists in Milla’s life, and the eventual shift towards a quieter sound shows how everything is coming to a feeling of peace.
The same can’t be said for The Fault in Our Stars (2014). Everything about the film feels more designed as an American studio film. It’s based on a novel by John Green and features another story about a terminally ill girl falling in love. It’s true that the stories are largely different from here, but the underlying sense that she could die informs how much we’re supposed to care about the romance ahead. This is a cancer drama love story and one that set the template for a new style of studio filmmaking. It’s one where we romanticize teenagers dying, which somehow makes them appreciate love and acceptance more.
Even if Babyteeth had plenty of comedic moments, The Fault in Our Stars is more upfront with its tone. It’s evident by Hazel’s (Shailene Woodley) discussion of chemotherapy, her ability to be flippant about somebody’s “ball cancer.” Even within this selected community, she is feeling lonesome. She may have a decent relationship with her parents Frannie (Laura Dern) and Michael (Sam Trammell), but there is a sense of absence, that her life feels empty without somebody that understands her on a personal note.
Enter Gus (Ansel Elgort) and Isaac (Nat Wolff). Together they are a trio who have cancer and a knack for tomfoolery. They feel normal, able to egg houses, and participating in these wacky activities that make them feel normal. It’s an eccentric journey that paves the way for Hazel’s relationship with Gus, who sports a cigarette in his mouth. He does it more as this rebellious symbolism, knowing that they’re “cancer sticks,” but that it can’t hurt him. He’s not actually going to light up. He’s just a bad boy with nothing offensive to really speak about.
Much like Babyteeth, The Fault in Our Stars is a story that features conflict with overprotective parents. Because of how much they want to see Hazel happy, Frannie and Michael allow them to visit Europe and experience the traveler’s life. In one of the most notorious scenes in the film, Hazel and Gus visit Anne Frank’s house (yes, that one) and decide to have a smooching session. It’s trivial to the plot, but the symbolism is supposed to be about how they’re all hopeless teens, feared to not have futures, finding some personal connection.
As they take a boat ride down the river, Charli XCX’s electropop hit “Boom! Clap!” plays. It’s the type of soundtrack choice that’s clearly designed to be a 21st-century version of a John Hughes film. It actually does work, though the other contemporary pop hits have had less staying power beyond immediate sentimentality.
Another thing that separates it from Babyteeth is its use of subplots. While all of these feel curious and inspired to explore the world, Hazel and Gus have an additional journey to their story. They want to track down John Green stand-in Peter van Houten (Willem Dafoe) and ask him questions about a book. When he’s first presented as a grouch, it is seen as a faith-shattering moment, believing that the man who filled their lives with optimism was a sham. However, he comes back and redeems himself, providing a philosophical conversation about the value of life and needing to make the most of it.
Like Babyteeth, there is also conflict with Hazel’s parents that develop throughout the film. Compared to Anna and Henry, Frannie and Michael are angels. They have their flaws, but they are more altruistic, doing things to make Hazel’s life as wondrous as they can. Their big resolution comes with an acceptance that Hazel being a rebellious heart upsets them because that’s what parents do. It’s also because Hazel has cancer and to think that their time with her is short breaks their heart. They act out because of their own frustration and inability to be normal, though as far as I can tell Michael never dealt drugs as a psychiatrist.
The Fault in Our Stars doesn’t trivialize cancer, but it definitely normalizes it in such a way that may have mixed results. Whereas most of the sick teen stories before had them be depressing martyrs, the choice to have a film full of fun and excitement goes against the norm. It’s delightful, playing into romantic comedy tropes and creating a relationship that has actual stakes. The concern that either one of them will die (or both!) only makes the text tense and bittersweet even as they are smiling and having a great time. By the moment that Hazel, Gus, and Isaac stage their fake funerals, there is an acceptance of mortality cooked into the plot that brings the point home.
Babyteeth is far less endearing with how it treats Milla’s illness. There are no fantastical journeys to another continent. The soundtrack isn’t producing another Top 40 hit. All it has is a woman going through chemo, finding her joy in Moses’ ability to look past her frailty and see the beauty inside. It’s more honest and real, capturing Milla as she reaches the end of her life. Scanlen gives a great performance that finds her ability to find joy even as her body wears out, the end becoming clearer as the end of the film arrives. Even then, she is this beautiful, shining light in the film, wanting to have the best for those in her life. It makes her death tragic. It’s abrupt, able to reflect absence in such an abrupt and meaningful way.
The Fault in Our Stars doesn’t have that. Sure there is a conversation about mortality, but the build-up has allusions to a demise that makes it feel more predictable than it already is. There is an acceptance that the time together has been special, even if everyone knew that it would be (no pun intended) short-lived. It’s got the glossy sentimentality that you’d expect, and it’s to Woodley’s credit that Hazel is an endearing and wonderful figure. I’m sure that she means more to real teenagers with cancer, who need to feel seen. By giving her a happier journey, the fantasy is more palatable.
Both versions are well worth checking out, though their executions speak to how mainstream American films and independent Australian films see these issues. Whereas Babyteeth comes across as something personal, managing to use its personal detail to elevate symbolism in nuanced ways, The Fault in Our Stars treats it as this magical “What if?” What if life didn’t have to end just because you had to begin taking chemo and risk potential death? It’s an affirming though misleading tale, never really taking time to contemplate the dark side of cancer simply because it doesn’t fit the tone.
It’s true that Babyteeth ends with a flashback to a more innocent moment, where Milla tries to take a picture of Henry, but it comes after her demise has been ruminating in the plot for a few minutes. There is genuine sorrow in the film. This flashback is bittersweet, remembering a more playful time in this family’s life that will have to live as a literal snapshot, now in the past tense. The whole story is at peace, looking back on a time where the fears of death didn’t wade over this family. It’s clear that this is what everyone wants, but not like this.
More than anything, it shows how the people who are brought into our lives are significant, especially when they sacrifice their own time to make us happy. To witness Hazel and Gus or Milla and Moses’ activities is to see what it’s like to feel seen, to have someone there to make you feel better when you’re sad. Both of these portraits are endearing in different ways, leaving an overwhelming sense of emotion. After all, it’s the one time when teenage recklessness becomes clear. For them, there is no tomorrow and they made the most of today. As sad as it is, it’s an inspiring note to live life with meaning and heart no matter how you feel. You just have to try.
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