Despite the fact that no one can foresee when death will pay them a visit and cut their life short, based on the movie P.S. I Love You, with a bit of applied imagination and strategic planning in advance, you you could possibly cheat the Grim Reaper slightly. Or in this instance a minimum of, from beyond the grave.
Not that this morbid premise sounds like ideal material for a fanciful romantic comedy. But filmmaker Richard LaGravenese (The Fisher King, The Bridges Of Madison County) takes up the challenge of juggling this life and the next for laughs, and awkwardly negotiates a frequently under plausible common ground between the best of all possible worlds, such as they might be.
Holly and Gerry are played by Hilary Swank and Gerard Butler in P.S. I Love You, a stressed out young Manhattan couple into marriage meltdown at the moment, because they brawl verbally about Holly's tendency towards too much shopping, not enough 'hot, nasty sex' on their weekly to-do list, Gerry's unsexy slacker attitude toward professional ambition, whether they forgot to have children on the way, and might this be very well all that they can expect out of life. In the middle of Holly's nightly nagging and lingering doubts about their relationship, happy-go-lucky Irish rocker import Gerry suddenly kicks the bucket. Which leaves Holly inside a deep depression of guilt-ridden regret and inconsolable misery.
Regardless if concerned mom Patricia (Kathy Bates) and nurturing best girlfriends Denise (Lisa Kudrow) and Sharon (Gina Gershon) don't have any success getting Holly to dispel those fulltime blues, the sudden, mysterious delivery of a number of letters from late hubby Gerry, slowly work their magic in snapping their glum gal pal from her depressed state. The letters function like a 12-step program presumably mailed from the afterlife, nudging the stricken widow to normalcy as well as a little potential new romance. The tragicomic healing process ends in at least two trips back to Ireland where the couple first met, where Mom and Holly embark on a weird adventure together, to go pick up men.
All right, P.S.I Love You and its dead letter collection plot device is way too overdone, and feels considerably energy-inefficient and contrived to begin with. Much more effective is LaGravenese's sensitive emotional and physical layering from the complex unraveling of grief as a frame of mind. And Swank gets it just right with a fine-tuned subtle expression of confusion, despondency and rage, though Holly's overly extended cranky self-pity party eventually wears out its welcome, for the characters and audience alike.
And yes it never quite makes sense why Holly is not enamored through the persistent advances from the infatuated hunk played by Harry Connick Jr., even if the guy is a little on the eccentric side, as when he invades her private space in the local pub's john to present her with the heart he wears a tad too prominently on his sleeve. In any case, P.S. I Love You, might have done with a lot less of a sense of standing on rewind as each posthumous letter arrives, and whenever a romantic urge or mental mood swing gets reshuffled. - 42265
Not that this morbid premise sounds like ideal material for a fanciful romantic comedy. But filmmaker Richard LaGravenese (The Fisher King, The Bridges Of Madison County) takes up the challenge of juggling this life and the next for laughs, and awkwardly negotiates a frequently under plausible common ground between the best of all possible worlds, such as they might be.
Holly and Gerry are played by Hilary Swank and Gerard Butler in P.S. I Love You, a stressed out young Manhattan couple into marriage meltdown at the moment, because they brawl verbally about Holly's tendency towards too much shopping, not enough 'hot, nasty sex' on their weekly to-do list, Gerry's unsexy slacker attitude toward professional ambition, whether they forgot to have children on the way, and might this be very well all that they can expect out of life. In the middle of Holly's nightly nagging and lingering doubts about their relationship, happy-go-lucky Irish rocker import Gerry suddenly kicks the bucket. Which leaves Holly inside a deep depression of guilt-ridden regret and inconsolable misery.
Regardless if concerned mom Patricia (Kathy Bates) and nurturing best girlfriends Denise (Lisa Kudrow) and Sharon (Gina Gershon) don't have any success getting Holly to dispel those fulltime blues, the sudden, mysterious delivery of a number of letters from late hubby Gerry, slowly work their magic in snapping their glum gal pal from her depressed state. The letters function like a 12-step program presumably mailed from the afterlife, nudging the stricken widow to normalcy as well as a little potential new romance. The tragicomic healing process ends in at least two trips back to Ireland where the couple first met, where Mom and Holly embark on a weird adventure together, to go pick up men.
All right, P.S.I Love You and its dead letter collection plot device is way too overdone, and feels considerably energy-inefficient and contrived to begin with. Much more effective is LaGravenese's sensitive emotional and physical layering from the complex unraveling of grief as a frame of mind. And Swank gets it just right with a fine-tuned subtle expression of confusion, despondency and rage, though Holly's overly extended cranky self-pity party eventually wears out its welcome, for the characters and audience alike.
And yes it never quite makes sense why Holly is not enamored through the persistent advances from the infatuated hunk played by Harry Connick Jr., even if the guy is a little on the eccentric side, as when he invades her private space in the local pub's john to present her with the heart he wears a tad too prominently on his sleeve. In any case, P.S. I Love You, might have done with a lot less of a sense of standing on rewind as each posthumous letter arrives, and whenever a romantic urge or mental mood swing gets reshuffled. - 42265
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