Hello, Goodbye, and Everything in Between

I’ve always been a sucker for the "ticking clock" romance—those movies where the rising sun acts as the ultimate antagonist. Usually, the goal is to fall in love before the deadline (think Before Sunrise), but Hello, Goodbye, and Everything in Between attempts something a bit more masochistic: a pre-planned, mutually agreed-upon heartbreak. I watched this on a Tuesday evening while my neighbor was aggressively practicing the bagpipes in the apartment above me, and honestly, the sonic dissonance of his "Amazing Grace" actually paired quite well with the film’s central question: why do we put ourselves through the wringer for a graceful exit when we could just rip the Band-Aid off?

Released in the mid-summer of 2022, this film arrived during that specific window of the "Streaming Era" where Netflix was trying to replicate the lightning-in-a-bottle success of To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before. It’s produced by ACE Entertainment—the same folks who handled the Lara Jean trilogy—and you can see that DNA in every frame. It’s polished, brightly lit, and populated by teenagers who seem to have unlimited budgets for "epic" dates. But beneath the algorithm-friendly surface, there’s a surprisingly melancholy heart beating here.

The Logistics of a Pre-Planned Breakup

The premise centers on Clare, played by Talia Ryder, and Aidan, played by Jordan Fisher. Clare is a pragmatist who has seen too many relationships crumble under the weight of long-distance college dreams, so she insists on a "breakup pact" before they even start dating. They’ll have one great year, then they’ll end it on their final night before heading to separate universities. No mess, no lingering "u up?" texts at 2 AM in October.

Talia Ryder, who blew me away in the gritty indie Never Rarely Sometimes Always, brings a much-needed layer of steel to the role. She doesn't play Clare as a "manic pixie dream girl"; she plays her as a girl who is legitimately terrified of losing her agency to a boy. On the flip side, Jordan Fisher (veteran of Hamilton and Dear Evan Hansen) is pure sunshine. He’s so charismatic that you almost find yourself shouting at the screen for Clare to just give in and try the long-distance thing. The movie essentially functions as a very expensive, very pretty Pinterest board for a breakup. It’s all neon-lit bowling alleys, rooftop conversations, and perfectly curated playlists.

A Cast Doing the Heavy Lifting

While the central romance is the engine, the film gets a massive boost from its supporting cast. This was released just as the world was starting to realize that Ayo Edebiri (now a household name thanks to The Bear) is a comedic force of nature. As Stella, she manages to make "the best friend" trope feel like a real human being with her own internal life. Watching her and Nico Hiraga (who was so good in Booksmart) bounce off each other provides a necessary breather from the heavy-breathing "will they/won't they" drama of the leads.

It’s interesting to look at this film now, only a couple of years later, and see how it fits into the "Content Wars." It’s a movie designed to be consumed on a laptop in a dorm room—which is fitting, given its subject matter. The cinematography by Bryce Fortner is actually several notches above your standard teen fare. He brings a slightly more cinematic, textured look to the proceedings, likely pulling from his experience on more stylized projects like Ingrid Goes West. It’s a film that knows it’s being watched on a small screen, so it uses close-ups and vibrant colors to hold your attention.

The Difficulty of Ending Well

The script, adapted by Ben York Jones and Amy Reed from Jennifer E. Smith’s novel, struggles a bit with the "Everything in Between" part of the title. Because we spend most of the movie on this one final date, the flashbacks to their relationship have to do a lot of heavy lifting to make us care about the breakup. Sometimes it feels earned; other times, it feels like the characters are just reciting "deep" thoughts they found on a Tumblr blog from 2014.

What makes the film a "forgotten" gem of the 2020s is that it actually dares to be a bit of a bummer. In an era where most streaming romances feel like they were written by a cheerful AI program, this movie acknowledges that sometimes love isn't enough to overcome logistics. It captures that very specific, 18-year-old brand of "end of the world" drama where every decision feels like it will echo for eternity.

One of the cooler behind-the-scenes details is that Jordan Fisher didn't just act; he served as an executive producer and even co-wrote and performed "Everything I Ever Wanted" for the soundtrack. You can feel his fingerprints on the movie’s earnest, musical theatre-adjacent energy. It’s a "vibe" movie, through and through. It’s about the feeling of a summer night ending, the smell of lake water, and the terrifying realization that your childhood just expired.

Hello, Goodbye, and Everything in Between isn’t going to redefine the genre, and it occasionally leans too hard into its own "perfectly imperfect" aesthetic. However, for a 83-minute watch, it offers a surprisingly thoughtful look at the expiration date we put on our own happiness. It’s the cinematic equivalent of a high-end scented candle: it might be a bit artificial, but it sets the mood exactly right for a good, cathartic cry about your high school ex. If you’re looking for a reminder of what it felt like to be eighteen and convinced that your heart was a structural hazard, this is worth the scroll.