It’s possible that Zac Efron’s legion of young, female admirers will embrace their idol in this lachrymose supernatural melodrama, a wannabe cross between Ghost and The Sixth Sense.
For the rest of us, Charlie St. Cloud is highly likely to be a bore, or a chore. In the US audiences rejected this schmaltzy mishmash about grief, second chances, miracles and the unbreakable bond between brothers. Released in July, the movie scraped up $US31 million, a lousy return on its $44 million budget.
Zac isn’t bad but the ludicrous screenplay based on a popular 2004 Ben Sherwood novel, The Death and Life of Charlie St. Cloud, does him no favours. He’s also saddled with a co-star in Amanda Crew who is a notch or two above plain and isn’t in the least bit sexy or charismatic.
Zac plays bright high school graduate and keen sailor Charlie, who lives with his single mother (an under-used Kim Basinger) and kid brother Sam (Charlie Tahan) in a Pacific North-West town and plans to go to Stanford University.
While he’s supposed to be at home minding Sam when mum’s at work at the local hospital, the boys sneak out to a party and en route are steamrollered by a speeding truck.
11-year-old Sam dies, Charlie flatlines but is miraculously saved by a paramedic (Ray Liotta). Plagued with guilt, Charlie flips out at the funeral and runs into the woods where he encounters Sam’s apparition. Seeking to make amends, Charlie promises to meet his bro each day at dusk to teach him to chuck a baseball. How a ghost can throw a ball isn’t explained. (Liotta reappears later to deliver a few cringe-worthy homilies about second chances, which make Charlie sound like a latter-day Messiah.)
Five years on, mum’s moved to Portland and Charlie (who looks not a day older) mopes around as the caretaker at the cemetery, his boat in mothballs, while keeping his daily rendezvous with Sam.
Enter Ms. Crew as Tess, a former classmate who’s preparing to embark on a six months voyage as a solo sailor. Charlie, who’d been living like a monk, suddenly sparks to Tess but she demurs, for at least a minute, and the inevitable happens.
This poses a dilemma for Charlie: Choosing between leading what could be described as a normal life and continuing to hang out among the dead. However, this point soon becomes moot thanks to not one but two plot twists.
Without giving away any major spoilers, suffice to say that if the first twist is even remotely believable in the context of a maudlin supernatural fantasy, the second makes absolutely no sense.
Efron performs fairly well as he registers grief, melancholy, charm and finally heroism, although he’s too prone to gazing into the middle distance; or is that a vacant stare? Crew is simply a blank canvas. Director Burr Steers (who collaborated more successfully with Efron in 17 Again) orchestrates proceedings with a heavy hand, devoid of taste or restraint, aggravated by Rolfe Kent’s annoying, intrusive score filled with weepy violins.
Some of my fellow critics at a media screening guffawed during the most egregiously syrupy moments, a reaction which paying audiences might well share.
