Wartime romance beginning in the spring of 2001 (you know what’s coming) and stretching up to the present, staggeringly basic and banal in its specifics, turning on a senseless withholding of information for the sole purpose of contrived misunderstanding and revealed nobility. It issues from a novel by Nicholas Sparks, always a harbinger of goopy absurdity, and the chief function of director Lasse Hallstrom, at one time a halfway serious filmmaker, is to pour sunlight, moonlight, and firelight over it like syrup. The buggy-eyed Amanda Seyfried manages to convey maybe a month’s worth of maturation over the decade-long storyline, but Channing Tatum makes a tiptop military type, a strong, silent type, guarded, humble, a tad pent-up, a tad petulant, several tads chivalrous. He merits some sort of medal for his recitation of the “I am a coin” letter to his dying numismatist dad. With Richard Jenkins and Henry Thomas. (2010) — Duncan Shepherd
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