Movie Review: Seven Pounds

By Dwight BrownNNPA Film Critic What do you do when you make a mistake? A horrible, irrevocable mistake? That’s a big question for this misguided movie’s protagonist and its filmmakers. It’s becoming a pattern, at least a rhythm. When superstar actor Will Smith makes an action-hero movie he goes over-the-top: In the film I Am Legend, he fights demons, single-handedly, in a deserted New York City. In Hancock, he’s so over his heroism, he’s, well, cocky. Now lately, when he makes a “serious” film, he also overdoes it. In The Pursuit of Happiness, when he played a homeless man looking for a job, the drama isrelentless; there is no relief in that movie until the final seconds. His latest “serious” movie, Seven Pounds, is even more melodramatic. Its message beats you over the head with pathos. Ben Thomas (Will Smith) is a sensitive, secretive IRS agent. He seeks out people, claiming that he has their case and that they may owe the government money. In fact, he’s really feeling them out to see if they are right… Right for what you may ask? Can’t tell you. There’s Ezra (Woody Harrelson) the blind customer service rep, Connie Tepos (Elpidia Carrillo), the battered wife, and other wretches who need saving. For some reason, Ben has more emotional baggage and bad karma to pay off than a season’s worth of My Name Is Earl. He’s got a painstaking plan for redemption that is as cryptic as it is meticulous. He veers slightly off course the day he meets a lovely woman named Emily Posa (Rosario Dawson) who is in need of a heart-transplant. They say, “The best laid plans of mice and man…” We’ll cue the violins. Non-traditional storytelling can be fascinating. Starting with the ending, and retelling a tale in bits and pieces can be intriguing, if patiently assembling all the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle is worth the effort. In this case, the audience eventually gets the big picture but may not feel the journey is worth the energy. The screenplay, by Grant Nieporte, isn’t content to dispense good drama; it prefers to go for the jugular. Its basic premise, regarding salvation, has merit, but the finished script is way too dreary. The dialogue is overly sentimental: Rosario Dawson to Will Smith, “I know I’m the girl with the broken wing, but who are you?” Say What! In addition, the supporting characters are one-dimensional. The direction by Gabrielle Muccino (The Pursuit of Happyness) lacks the sense of irony or humor thatcould provide some welcomed relief from the barrage of woe-is-me suffering. If the script and direction have any saving grace it’s their ability to flesh out the romance between the agent and the lovely woman who needs a new heart. Those moments, perfectly acted by Smith and Dawson, are precious. As Ben Thomas, Will Smith cries himself dry. His face is so sad, so bereaved, he takes you well past the point of empathy-you almost feel guilty for breathing. Ben’s please-love-me, please-feel-sorry-for-meangst gives the film a self-important air that’s stifling. Yes Smith has grown as an actor and he puts the character across, but why did he choose this role-this movie? He’s the world’s most successful movie actor. His salary could keep the three auto companies alive for at least a year. What’s his motivation for making heavy-handed dramas? Rosario Dawson is thoroughly beguiling as the woman who puts a wrench in the agent’s plans. She makes him question his intentions in a sweet performance that mesmerizes. Supporting actors like Harrelson, Michael Ealy and Barry Pepper don’t have much to work with. Cinematographer Phillipe Le Sourd frames the shots well, and picks the right lighting. Sharen Davis’ (Dreamgirls) costumes fit like a glove. Hughes Winborne’s editing never feels precise. The original musical score by Angelo Milli is so fawning it grates on the nerves in the way only shallow California new age music can. The peak of bad taste, when the wrong song comes at the wrong time, is when Que Sera, Sera blares. The only overly sentimental song that escapes this soundtrack is Feelings. Seven Pounds is an excruciatingly self-important, weighty film that should be called Seven Tons. It may not be an irrevocable mistake. But it’s close.