Is the Catholic Church making movies? I don't think I got the bulletin. Hmm ... but then I haven't been to mass in a while, in about a decade. A communion wafer lightly dusted in comedy and drenched in melodrama; Henry Poole Is Here certainly seems like a film cooked in a Christian kitchen.

You see, something's not quite right with Mr. Poole (Luke Wilson). He just plunked down a few hundred grand for a sad little house that's falling apart at its stucco seams. The only thing sadder than the house is Henry himself (and the soundtrack). But no matter, as he ominously informs anyone who'll listen, "I won't be here very long." Even Patience, a wise-beyond-her-years grocery store clerk, can see the truth through her coke-bottle lenses. Henry's very sad, and angry. Poor Poole, he just wants to be left alone in his sugar-glazed gloom of beer and Krispy Kremes. Alas, his hermit-tude doesn't stand a chance after his real estate agent, (one of Henry's posse of persistent visitors), has the house re-stuccoed. That's when all heaven breaks loose.

Enter the Son of God, or to be more exact the face of the Son of God played by surprise newcomer ... a water stain. And who better to see the "holy shoulder" and holy eyes and holy nose for what it is, than Henry's neighbor Esperanza (or in English, "Hope" ... do I detect some badly hidden meaning)? Yet, no matter what wonders may occur in his back yard, Poole refuses to believe. But it's not really his fault. He's a slave to the soundtrack. He just feels what it tells him to (and so should you ... if you're an obedient audience).

The soundtrack, (forget the straight-nosed Wilson), is arguably the film's true star. It certainly has the most lines. "La-deee-daaaa ... here comes the sad part, soooo sad ... la la laaaa ... and it's getting sad-DER (sniff) ... DA DA daaaaa ... so sad you want to cry, everyone in the theater should be crying nowww..."

Shouldn't music subtly complement a scene, like a slinky gown by Dior, rather than overselling the cinematic goods, like a leather peephole dress by that guy who has a store in his van?

When the soundtrack's not sucking up all the sound, the film does display some sparks of sweetness, oddball originality and raw humor. Like forlorn little Millie (perhaps the only character more depressed than Henry) who doesn't speak but does tape the neighborhood's conversations, toting around a sparkly-stickered spy recorder, and a mike. Or Henry's deadpan sarcasm as he gets his blood drawn by a budding Nurse Ratched. Funnyman George Lopez plays it surprisingly straight as a level-headed priest. Luke Wilson's gritty delivery of misery mixed with hard-luck humor is quite entertaining and at times even poignant. As I held my breath during each endless wave of musical melancholy, I prayed for more of these moments, more bitter wit, more odd encounters in the grocery aisle. And a less predictable parable of a faithless man whose faithlessness is challenged.

Still, if you appreciate Mamma Mia's paper-thin plot and musical distraction, but crave something moodier and less danceable, or relish an Evan Almighty-like battle with belief, but prefer less laughs, Henry Poole could be for you.

Perhaps if I just did what the soundtrack told me to ... I tried, truly I did, but about halfway through what seemed like an 20-minute-long symphony of despair, I suddenly realized that I still wasn't sad, but I was tired of trying to be sad and then was finally actually sad when I realized I wasn't supposed to be done being sad yet.

I wanted to believe, but in the end, I just wasn't convinced.

Grade: C

Recommend (0)

|  Comments (0)

|  Email

|  Share

Share  Facebook Digg del.icio.us