Seven Pounds

It’s a distinctly frazzled Will Smith we see at the start of this teasing drama. Calling emergency services, he looks on his last legs, before we cut back to trace what brought him to this point of no return. It’s then we meet mean Will Smith, an IRS agent seemingly specialising in pursuing the disadvantaged, such as Woody Harrelson’s blind piano teacher and Rosario Dawson’s stationery designer with a heart condition. Still, a bit curious that Smith’s living in a cheap motel all the while, since intercut moments suggest a family life somewhere in the past. What can it all mean?

 Actually, the film’s distributors have us sworn to secrecy, but chances are that if we did spill the beans, you wouldn’t believe us. It’s totally bonkers. Kudos though to director Gabriele Muccino (who previously helmed the rather grittier Smith entry ‘The Pursuit of Happyness’) for drip-feeding us towards the big reveal with no little style, turning out a movie that’s seductively lithe and sheeny, giving every impression of in-the-moment gravitas… rather like a superior car advert. Smith does enough here to suggest that he’s pushing at the edges of his goody-goody image, while Dawson works wonders in a role so thankless it should have its own awards category.

However, all concerned are mere pawns in thrall to a central conceit that sails beyond mere sentiment to encapsulate the surreal. It’s not what you’d call any good, but Claude Lelouch fans, say, might relish its grandiose romantic gestures in the face of all known logic.