Hereafter

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A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

Year:	2010
Country of origin:	USA
Director:	Clint Eastwood
Genre:	Supernatural drama
Starring:	Cécile De France, Matt Damon, Frankie McLaren , George McLaren
Rating:	3/5
IMDB link:	http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1212419/
Tagline:	No tagline
Favourite line:	"I think you experienced death."

I love Clint.
That old, grizzled, slab of a man can do little wrong as far as this household is concerned, so it was with some expectancy that I settled in for a near two and a half hour meditation on the afterlife and, by the end, I was left a tad deflated.
The plot:

Three plot strands interweave:
1: A successful French reporter suffers a tragedy whilst on vacation, swept away in a tsunami and, fleetingly, apparently dies. After the horrendous ordeal, reflecting on her experience, her life begins to unravel.
2: A young English boy whose twin brother dies when hit by a van on a London street. Sent into foster care due to a drug and alcohol addicted neglectful mother, he finds it hard to come to terms with the loss of his sibling and sets about trying to contact him from the beyond.
3: A retired American psychic (Matt Damon) who has turned his back on his craft, considering his ability less a gift than a curse, aware that his uncanny talent, whilst putting him in touch with the dead renders him lonely and isolated amongst the living.
Inevitably, as the movie meanders to its conclusion, the three lives intertwine.

With a breath-taking opening sequence that just has to be seen, the film soon starts to drag it's heels, struggling to live up to the drama.
Whilst the concepts are sound, Clint's trademark laconic, almost lazy directorial style - and I don't mean that as a criticism. Quite the opposite - which is usually such a strength, here seems to suck the energy out of proceedings. Scenes drag on for just a fraction too long and, with minimal use of incidental music, the whole thing just feels a little flat.
The performances are solid enough, with the possible exception of the young boy who is about as animated as a rusty nail, and the characters are intriguing, but it is just too damned ponderous.
An additional irritation is the vaguely stereotypical portrayal of London, which is just a hairs breadth away from Victorian urchins, chimney sweeps and bluff old sorts singing Knees Up Mother Brown talking about climbing the 'apples and pears' and using their 'mince pies'. Made me wonder whether Clint has ever actually seen London beyond the glare of the paparazzi lenses and the length of red carpet.
Perhaps with some tighter editing and more of a sense of urgency, this could have been great. As it is, it is acceptable, though no more and, frankly, coming from the mighty Eastwood, that is less than we have come to expect.