Very few films are as good as the book, but that still doesn't excuse an absolute travesty of a book-to-film adaptation. The unfortunate thing is Twelve had such unbelievable on screen potential. Not only is the subject matter widely appealing -- pretty people doing bad things -- but it has a stellar cast to go with it. All director Joel Schumacher had to do was follow the story, trim a little fat and he would have ended up with a solid production. But he and screenwriter Jordan Melamed just went about it all wrong, making Twelve an extended episode of Gossip Girl rather than a dark and foreboding tale.

The film stars Chace Crawford as White Mike, a smart kid who resorts to a life of seclusion and drug dealing after losing his mother to cancer. His clients include just about anyone who hangs out at Chris' (Rory Culkin) house, where all the best parties are held. In fact, this weekend, the most popular girl at school, Sara Ludlow (Esti Ginzburg), wants to have her birthday party at Chris', and considering Chris and every other guy at school -- or in the entire city for that matter -- would do just about anything to be with Sara, he agrees to play host. The newest number to appear on White Mike's phone is that of Jessica (Emily Meade), a promising student who winds up getting hooked on the newest drug on the market, Twelve. White Mike doesn't deal Twelve, but she'll do just about anything for it, even if it means going to White Mike's supplier, Lionel (50 Cent).

There's so much more to it than that, but I implore you to get the information from Nick McDonell's book rather than the film, or at least read the book before seeing the movie. Twelve is by far one of the most compelling pieces I've ever read and it pains me to say that the film is just the opposite. I walked out of the theater so utterly disappointed I felt as though I could almost pull a Claude (Billy Magnussen). Okay, that's extreme, but I was pretty angry. Unlike Claude, I've opted to channel my anger into a Cinematical Seven, so enjoy and thank you for tolerating my need to vent.
categories Cinematical