Generally, I consider myself to be a positive person. When life sucks, I try to find at least one bright spot, and when I write, I keep that philosophy in mind.
However, part of my side hustle writing movie reviews involves being critical, (we’re called film critics, after all), so when Netflix ripped out a chunk of my inner thirteen-year-old’s heart by making a terrible film adaptation of the series I was attached at the hip to in middle school, I decided I had to speak up.
In fairness, the screenwriters didn’t have much to work with while adapting the Uglies books. Scott Westerfeld’s dystopian series, first published in 2005, critiqued the rigid beauty standards of the early 2000s. At the time, it was rare to speak out against aesthetic ideals in this way, but in the twenty years that have passed since then, the body positivity movement has added nuance to the conversation around society’s perception of beauty. More importantly, beauty ideals have changed because of this movement combined with the advent of social media. In the world Westerfeld wrote Uglies in, young people idolized models and celebrities, striving to be as flawless as they appeared on magazine covers and MTV. Conversely, the young people of today feel pressure to show up as the prettiest, happiest version of themselves online day after day. We compare ourselves to our peers, many of which we see in person as well as on social media. Needless to say, the Uglies movie exists in a different world than the books, and the screenwriters did little to adapt the plot of the movie accordingly. (Also, no one can convince me that Joey King is ugly, ever. She just isn’t.)
The concept of a dystopian society featuring mandatory plastic surgery operations, as seen in the Uglies books, isn’t a bad idea. In fact, if more heart had been poured into Netflix’s Uglies movie, it would have been the perfect series to kick off a renaissance of the YA dystopian genre. Why? Because in 2024, our constant online exposure to the seemingly happy, pretty lives of other people has made us even more obsessed with becoming pretty than we were two decades ago. Furthermore, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, a masterfully written prequel to the iconic Hunger Games series and another teen dystopian film, raked in millions at the box office just last year. With momentum from Ballad and an already loyal fanbase for Westerfeld’s book series, Uglies could’ve launched a renaissance of the YA Dystopian genre had it been executed with its audience in mind, released in theaters, and marketed well. Instead of the blockbuster adaptation I’d hoped for, Netflix gave us a carbon copy of the dystopian movies we loved ten years ago…just made for Netflix.
2024’s Uglies is biblically accurate as an adaptation; it perfectly captured how I envisioned Scott Westerfeld’s world while I was twelve. However, while watching the movie at eighteen, it didn’t feel believable to me. Worse, it didn’t feel unique. For all I know, I could’ve been watching Divergent.
So, why was this movie so poorly recieved? How did Netflix botch Uglies? Let’s get into some specifics.
First, I’m tackling the elephant in the room: the costume design. The outfits in Uglies are bland to say the least, and this includes the ones we’re supposed to think are “pretty”. I was disappointed by how basic and neutral everyone’s wardrobe was – especially Dr. Cable’s, who I think should’ve been as stylish as Effie from The Hunger Games. Each character was dressed the same, making it impossible for a person to dress up as Tally or Shay for Halloween without explaining who they are supposed to be. I especially hated the costume design of the Specials, who were clad in blue-lasered bodysuits that just didn’t feel…special. I always imagined Specials to be jaundiced werewolf-like creatures instead of whatever bland monstrosity I saw on screen. Also, can we talk about how Peris was made a Special? Tally and Shay are supposed to eventually become Specials, not him [insert eye roll here]. I wish each character could’ve had a unique color palette and several different outfits that showcased their personal styles despite the expectation to conform in the world they live in.
Unfortunately, the production design didn’t help either. I couldn’t figure out what was interesting or fun about the world of the Pretties while watching the movie. Why does Tally find it so fascinating? It’s no Capitol, rather it feels like a carbon copy of Divergent‘s future Chicago.
The only other way Netflix could’ve saved Uglies would be giving it a killer soundtrack or score, but aside from the end credits song, none of the soundscape stood out to me as impressive. Good music can elevate a moviegoing experience, which I touched on in my Beetlejuice Beetlejuice review. Instead of carefully choosing songs to curate emotional moments, however, the soundtrack of Uglies is as mediocre as the movie is.
Better, more persistent marketing couldn’t have hurt either, because I didn’t even know an Uglies movie existed until I started seeing half-star ratings for it on Letterboxd.
Uglies isn’t a bad adaptation, it’s just not anything interesting, and perhaps that’s the most disappointing thing about it. It’s a shame that Joey King and Brianne Tju had badly written characters to work with because their performances really were the star of the show. Needless to say, the Uglies series, the YA dystopia genre and former middle school girls everywhere deserved better.
Final Rating: 3/10
