Fallen

The mid-2010s were a graveyard for the "next Twilight." Every studio executive in Hollywood was frantically clutching a Young Adult manuscript, hoping to find the next spark of supernatural romance that would ignite a billion-dollar franchise. By the time Fallen finally fluttered into a very limited theatrical release in late 2016, the cultural appetite for brooding immortals and "Chosen One" teenagers had largely shifted toward the cynical, fast-paced world of streaming. It arrived like a beautiful, late-to-the-party guest who didn’t realize the music had already changed to EDM.

I watched this on a Tuesday afternoon while eating a bowl of cereal that had gone slightly soggy, which strangely matched the film's damp, grey color palette. It’s a movie that feels like it belongs to a different decade, yet it’s a fascinating artifact of the Contemporary Era—a moment when mid-budget genre films were being squeezed out of theaters and onto VOD platforms, caught between the death of the DVD market and the rise of the Netflix Original.

A Case of Stalled Momentum

The most interesting thing about Fallen isn't necessarily what's on the screen, but how it got there. Directed by Scott Hicks—the man behind the Oscar-nominated Shine (1996)—the film was actually shot in late 2013. It then proceeded to sit on a shelf for three years. In the world of modern cinema, that’s usually a kiss of death, often signaling a studio that has lost its nerve. When it finally emerged, it felt like a ghost of a trend that had already passed.

Yet, there is a certain charm to its commitment. The story follows Lucinda "Luce" Price, played by Addison Timlin (Californication), who is sent to Sword & Cross, a reform school that looks less like a place for troubled teens and more like a gothic mansion where people go to have poetic monologues. Addison Timlin gives Luce more grounding than the script probably deserves. She has an expressive, watchful face that keeps you anchored even when the plot starts spiraling into ancient prophecies and celestial wars.

Brooding Boys and Heavenly Boredom

Once Luce arrives at the school, she is immediately caught between two boys who represent the classic YA polarity. On one side, we have Daniel Grigori, played by Jeremy Irvine (War Horse), who is distant, mysterious, and spends a lot of time staring at Luce from balconies. On the other, there’s Cam Briel, played by Harrison Gilbertson (Oppenheimer), the "bad boy" with a motorcycle and a penchant for leather jackets.

The chemistry is... complicated. Jeremy Irvine has the brooding intensity of a man who just realized he left the stove on, which fits the "tortured soul" trope perfectly, but leaves little room for actual warmth. Harrison Gilbertson actually fares a bit better by leaning into the campier, more predatory aspects of his character. It’s the kind of triangle we’ve seen a thousand times, but Scott Hicks treats it with a level of visual prestige that’s unexpected.

The cinematography by Alar Kivilo (The Blind Side) is genuinely lovely. Filmed in Hungary, the movie utilizes real castles and lush, overgrown landscapes that give it a weight the CGI eventually tries to undermine. In an era where many streaming-first movies feel flat and digitally "clean," Fallen has a texture to it. It’s a "Drama" in the sense that everyone is very serious about their feelings, but it lacks the narrative punch to make those feelings hurt.

Why It Vanished (And Why to Revisit)

So, why did Fallen fall into obscurity? It was a victim of the franchise-fatigue era. By 2016, audiences were moving toward the MCU's quippy humor or the gritty realism of The Hunger Games. A sincere, slow-burn romance about fallen angels felt "too 2009." The film also suffers from "First Movie Syndrome"—it spends so much time setting up a sequel that it forgets to provide a satisfying conclusion to its own story. Since the sequels never materialized, we’re left with a gorgeous prologue to a story that will never be finished.

However, for fans of the genre, there’s a lot to appreciate here. Lola Kirke (Mistress America) shows up as Luce’s friend Penn, and she is a total delight, providing the only scrap of self-awareness in a script that is otherwise allergic to jokes. There’s also a brief, bizarre appearance by Joely Richardson (The Gentlemen) that reminds you this was meant to be a much bigger production than it ended up being.

The film's representation of the "supernatural teen" era is authentic, if a bit dated. It’s a movie that doesn't care about being "meta" or subverting expectations; it just wants to show you two beautiful people destined to love each other across lifetimes. In our current era of hyper-ironic content, there is something almost refreshing about its total lack of a wink to the camera. The shadows in this movie have more personality than the dialogue, but sometimes, that’s exactly the kind of moody atmosphere you want for a rainy afternoon.

Fallen is a polished, somber piece of YA history that arrived just as the door was closing on its genre. It’s not a masterpiece, and it certainly won’t convert anyone who isn't already a fan of gothic romance, but it’s a fascinating look at what happens when "prestige" filmmaking meets "teen fantasy" tropes. It’s a beautiful, incomplete thought—a reminder of a time when we really thought every book series could be the next cinematic universe. If you can find it on a deep-scroll through a streaming service, it’s worth the 91 minutes just for the scenery and the earnestness.