The critics basically threw tomatoes at this thing, but the audience score tells a different story. It’s a classic case of "critics hate it, fans obsess over it." If you’re trying to figure out why your teen has this on repeat, it’s because the movie leans hard into the "enemies-to-lovers" trope that dominates BookTok and fanfiction. It’s designed to be bingeable, emotional, and just controversial enough to keep people talking.
The Galitzine Factor
A huge part of the staying power here is the lead, Nicholas Galitzine. If your teen is currently working through a Nicholas Galitzine marathon, this is usually the stop they make after the more polished rom-coms. He plays the "troubled Marine" archetype with enough sincerity to make the somewhat ridiculous premise feel functional.
While his later roles have more charm, Purple Hearts relies on his ability to look conflicted in a uniform. If your kid liked him in other recent hits, they’ll likely overlook the clunky dialogue here just to see him and Sofia Carson trade longing stares.
Political Friction as a Plot Device
Most teen romances stick to safe territory—think high school drama or secret identities. This movie takes a bigger swing by putting a "blue" songwriter and a "red" Marine in the same room. It tries to argue that love can bridge a massive political divide, but it doesn't always stick the landing.
Some viewers find the military-leaning dialogue a bit heavy-handed, while others think it’s a rare attempt to show two different Americas actually talking to each other. It’s a weirdly intense choice for a movie that also features several glossy pop music montages. If you’re looking for the best teen movies on Netflix that actually spark a real conversation, this is a better pick than a standard high school flick, simply because the stakes involve real-world issues like the cost of insulin and the ethics of military service.
Why the "Fake Dating" Works
The "marriage of convenience" is a trope as old as time, but Purple Hearts updates it for the gig economy. The most relatable part of the movie isn't the romance; it's the desperation. Cassie’s struggle with Type 1 diabetes and her inability to afford meds is a gut-punch that feels way more real than the "accidental love" plotline.
It’s this specific friction—the crushing reality of medical debt versus the escapism of a music career—that makes the movie feel more substantial than a typical "store-brand" romance. It’s not prestige cinema, and the plot beats are predictable from a mile away, but it hits the emotional notes it needs to. Just don't expect it to be a realistic documentary on military life or healthcare policy. It’s a melodrama through and through, and on that front, it delivers exactly what the fans want.
