I know I've been just running on about Bollywood movies for a while now—I mean, it's pretty much in my DNA at this point, but sometimes I like to mix things up (only sometimes). And when I do, it's usually something like Five Feet Apart, the kind of movie you can binge-watch every night with a pint of ice cream and an industrial-sized box of tissues. Seriously, it hits you right in the feels, kind of like Titanic level emotional devastation. But before I start sobbing all over my keyboard, let's dive into the film's opening scene.
For some reason, it feels very intimate and incredibly soft—right from the very first frame. Stella's close-ups are great, so that you feel that you are really in there with her, imprisoned in the hospital. The close-ups have this sort of tight framing, which may seem ironic as that is also what the characters cannot have—close contact in the flesh. The use of POV shots here, part of a wider technical strategy, draws the audience into her personal experience, aligning our emotional journey with hers, giving us the sense of a confessional space where she can express herself.
One can clearly see that this is where the color palette really plays a huge role in telling the story. Thanks to those pastel colors, soft blues, and warm tones, this hospital doesn't seem as cold and clinical anymore. And in a way, it's as if the film wraps you in such a cozy blanket that you already know it would just take some time before someone yanks that blanket away. These warm colors show all the emotions locked beneath the surface—hope, fragile moments, and a ton of unsaid feelings. The use of symbolic color in these opening scenes resonates with health/illness and connection/isolation; it echoes Levi Strauss' binary oppositions.
Mixed styles are utilized for the camera angles. Most of the shots in the beginning are POV shots and let you get a glimpse of Stella's life because she's filming those vlogs and is trying to cling on to her illness. And then there are all those wide shots of the corridors in the hospital, making her world seem small and isolated. The directors have really perfected the techniques with camera movements to give the feeling of loneliness but still keep you emotionally attached to Stella. The framing of these shots subtly plays on isolation vs. connection, with the spatial dynamics underscoring Stella's sense of confinement versus her desire to reach out.
Let's talk about lighting! It's all natural, soft, and pretty understated. No dramatic shadows and harsh lights (sigh, Rockstar fans!). This subtlety is simply flawless for the movie, which is a mixture of hope and sadness. The side light that shines through the windows of the hospital underlines the fact that how delicately Stella and other patients are dealt with their situation. The lighting captures the stillness on the surface but leaves you in a sense feeling that tension under it—the minute you glance through the characters' rather fragile situations, you will hardly feel overpowered. It reflects that, shining the light upon the delicate situations of the characters without seeming oppressive. This is a perfect fit for Barthes' narrative codes—the lighting here enhances the Enigma Code, leaving us in suspense regarding the characters' futures, and the Action Code, where their daily routines pull us into their world.
The mise-en-scène. Well, that's not exactly the kind of place hospitals are, but in Five Feet Apart, small things make that space special: vlogs, medical equipment, and strict routines all given a characterization to the space. It's a play of contrasts: a place meant for healing, filled with unspoken emotions and tension of human connections that just can't happen. The medical environment, with all its equipment, can be taken as part of the Symbolic Code, speaking to the fragility of their lives, the constraints of their illness, and the way their very survival is mediated by the hospital system.
And then there's Will, played by Cole Sprouse, the rebellious hero, who comes in with that kind of brooding charm. Well, he's very much yin to Stella's yang, and thus comes with this injection of energy of "I don't follow the rules." I'm not saying too much more about it, though; thinking about their story already gets emotional. Trust me; you don't want me to spoil it! Just know that if you're already crying by the start, forget about getting through the rest of this movie without crying over how they could have been together in the end. But let's not go there—I don't think I can have a meltdown in the middle of the blog post!
The start of the dialogue is super relatable. Stella's vlogs are full of what is basically personal confession, and you can sense she is trying to keep things light when even life gets tough. It's like all of us have crappy moments—most of the time, you have to break up with a joke, right? The film doesn't want its emotions inside your head; they are secretly living under the scum until they need to strike when you least expect it—which is, come to think of it, exactly like some of those random waves of feels where you're 2 a.m. and all of a sudden.
The opening of Five Feet Apart is an exquisitely well-done emotional setup that gradually introduces you to the heartbreak that is impending. The camera work, color use, and lighting all take on a unique role in setting the tone while exploring themes of health/illness, connection/isolation, and how medical institutions shape relationships. And if you think the start is rough to watch, just wait—this is one ride where your heartstrings are definitely going to get pulled!
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