Yes, I have. We all have.
Two regurgitated caricatures of the stereotypical American teenage girl, Lily and Gerry are sooooooo different yet so alike. Both fall in love with the same part shady stalker, part brooding troubled artiste~ who wants to travel the world but his list of places to visit is, like, "Rome... (d-uh)Paris..." Daddy issues are, of course, played up wonderfully, because what is any worthy female teenage protagonist if not the product of her father's neglect? What possibly can one expect when the preppy rich teenage daughter of a straight-laced household made up of detached parents and siblings goes to her dad's office to ask him to get through with this patient already they're getting late for dinn- *gasp* and henceforth a series of incredibly stupid decisions are made by two girls we initially assume to be a lot smarter, wittier, braver and mature than they turn out to be. Every trick in the book for a deep and wholesome young-woman-coming-of-age film is not simply used, but abused in the most blatant schticky manner possible; I promise you, there is more than one cameo made by Sylvia Plath.
This film is a true example of lazy filmmaking in an industry where ~gratuitous-yet-modest~ sex scenes and summertime virginity pacts are more important than honest *portrayals* let alone discussions about teenage turmoil and female sexuality. Not even that awkwardly long shot of Dakota Fanning kinda-sorta running-jogging could redeem this movie.
Don't watch it. You've already seen it. And you've seen better.
