[7.1/10] I tend to subscribe to the mantra “it’s not what you do, it’s how you do it” when it comes to films. There are plenty of movies with great premises or plots that are completely squandered with poor writing or performances, and there are plenty of bog-standard setups livened by crackerjack dialogue or clever execution. But like any maxim, it overstates and oversimplifies. The choices that creators make matter, and in a film like *Bridge to Terabithia* they can change the entire complexion of a film. Because for most of its runtime, *Terabithia* is a pretty standard kids movie. Directed by former *Simpsons* animator Gabor Csupo, it centers on Jess Aarons (Josh Hutcherson, very pre-*Hunger Games*, an artistic kid who comes from a cash-strapped farming family, faces bullies at school, and whose father doesn’t understand his imaginative bent. Jess’s world is turned upside down when a new kid named Leslie (AnnaSophia Robb) comes to school and beats him and the rest of his class as the only girl in a playground footrace. Despite some initial enmity at this track and field toppling, Jess and Leslie become fast friends, with the pair imagining a land called Terabithia in the woods behind their neighboring houses. The film hits a number of the usual beats for a movie aimed at kids. The bullies have rote conflicts with Jess and are undermined appropriately. Other antagonists are humanized in ham-fisted ways. Ear-terrorizing generic pop songs are played over sequences indiscriminately. Pesky little sisters, overworked moms, and standard teachers (in both the hard-nose and crush-worthy varieties) make their presence known. Even the *Buffy*-esque conceit of the film – that Jess’s fears and fantasies manifest themselves in the imaginative world of Terabithia, feels a little too simple and familiar (and occasionally nonsensical). The most hackneyed of these is arguably the biggest personal conflict of the film, the one between Jess and his dad (Robert Patrick). Jess has his sketchbook and spends much of his time drawing, something that often causes friction with his farmer dad who encourages Jess to take more responsibility in chores and maintenance. At a particularly harried moment, Jess’s dad complains that his son always has his head in the clouds, and that Jess should “draw [him] some money.” There is a bit of juice to the storyline. Patrick brings some layers to the role even in the early going, where the viewer can sense his frustrations are with the family’s situation and the realities they face that balance out harsh words to Jess. By the same token, when Jess spends an afternoon with Leslie and her parents, who are both writers, there is an unspoken longing that undergirds the scene, a sense of how Jess’s life could be different if he lived there rather than here. But for the most part, these scenes hit the typical “working class parents don’t understand child’s artistic bent” notes. The same goes for Leslie herself. Robb breathes real life into the character, turning someone who could have been a standard issue funky new best friend into the heart of the picture. There’s a joy and brightness to Leslie (particularly as contrasted with a young Hutcherson, who feels a little bland and overmatched here) that helps cover for the fact that she comes close to Manic Pixie Dream Girl territory for Jess here. Leslie is a beam of sunshine into everyone’s lives who can do no wrong, and solving problems, showing empathy to mean bullies and pesky sisters alike, and encouraging Jess’s artistic side despite his own reluctance and his father’s skepticism. And then she dies. Suddenly, the entire shape of the movie changes. Suddenly, it’s about the senselessness of such loss, about survivor’s guilt, about what people leave with us even when they leave this mortal coil. It doesn’t change the triteness of much of the setup, but it does deliver one hell of a gut punch after lulling the audience to sleep, and pays off much of the prior proceedings in a way that justifies them and kicks the film up a notch. The news is delivered gently, in a fashion appropriately for a kids film, but it’s also devastating in how it happens, how unremarkable and yet avoidable her death was. Ms. Edmunds (Zooey Deschanel), the music teacher Jess has a crush on (one seemingly encouraged by Leslie), invites Jess to go to a museum with her. On the way there, he looks out the window at Leslie’s house, seemingly contemplating inviting his best friend, but he decides against it, seeming to relish the one-on-one time with the object of his elementary school affections. But while Jess was out, Leslie tried to cross the creek into “Terabithia” without him. The rope swing, which Jess had warned Leslie about, snapped and she could not recover. It’s a choice that makes the film, and the story it tells. Though it’s a bit above Hutcherson’s talents to fully convey, there’s so many difficult emotions that ripple through Jess in the aftermath of this event. There is the guilt that comes from his not being there to save her, that if he had come with, he might have been able to do something to prevent the loss of the dearest person to him. There’s the guilt that it stemmed from a betrayal of their friendship, that Jess’s choice not to invite Leslie came from a selfish desire to be alone with Ms. Edmunds, despite going on an activity that Leslie would surely love. Then there is the added guilt that it was Jess’s artistic bent, his “head in the clouds” appreciation for art that led him away. The film never makes it explicit, but there’s a strong subtext of Jess feeling like this is karmic punishment, that all of this is his fault. And yet, it’s Jess’s father, the same one who looked skeptically upon his son’s artistic endeavors, that provides him the most comfort amid this morning and the attendant self-inflicted wounds. He tells Jess bad things happen, but that they’re not his fault; they’re not anyone’s fault. And he praises Leslie and Jess’s relationship with him, telling Jess that even though she’s gone, she left him with something, and her death doesn’t change that. Leslie, after all, “opened Jess’s mind.” It’s a bit trite, but it gives the film a purpose, a central idea that creates a legacy for Leslie despite her few years on this Earth. The end of the film sees Jess sharing that legacy with the sister he’s resisted up to this point. Terabithia, realized in dodgy but fanciful CGI, represents the boundless imagination Leslie possessed and that she spurred in Jess. His sharing it honors her, and represents his recovery, understanding, and maturity from such a trauma so young. *Bridge to Terabithia* is still a fairly simple movie, engaging in many of the expected tropes of the genre. But with that one choice, a rather typical story suddenly has weight, and emotional climax built on what’s set up in the film’s clumsier opening passages. In a strange way, it makes *Terabithia* feel of a piece with *Manchester By the Sea*. The latter is assuredly better shot, acted, and crafted, but it too makes a strong choice toward the end of the picture that elevates it above the standard portions of its narrative. Execution is key, but sometimes one bold choice, that still stays true to your world and your narrative, can make all the difference.

If you didn't cry at this film, you have no heart.