Today's forecast is shite, with a chance of Charlie St. Clouds
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
As Charlie St. Cloud (Zac Efron) and his younger brother Sean (Charlie Tahan) sail past the competition to win the local Yacht race, the awe-struck Tess (Amanda Crew) mutters "God that boy is good" from her second place-getting boat. If that scene does not set up the tone of the movie for you, then perhaps the two brothers hugging and celebrating against a sunset background will.But the Kodak moment is soon shattered when Charlie is driving Sean to a friends' and they are hit by a drunk driver. Sean dies in the car accident and it looks like Charlie will too when he flat lines in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. But the power of Ray Liotta's terrible acting as the paramedic brings him back to life.
Fast forward five-years and Charlie is now the undertaker at the local cemetery which, for some reason, is full of attractive young workers. His near-death experience has given him the ability to communicate with ghosts, including Sean whom he practises baseball with every afternoon. Tess is now a fully-fledged Jessica Watson wannabe and preparing to sail solo around the world. She still has a crush on Charlie, despite her coach assuring her he's "certifiable." But alas, somehow the two crazy kids bond, flirt and try to make it work. That is until Charlie's sixth sense starts to get in the way.
After period dramedy Me and Orson Welles, this is another attempt by former Disney star Zac Efron to make the cross over into more serious roles. He does okay. He cries, he pouts, he smoulders, he broods and he takes his shirt off more than once which is everything an Efron fan could ask for. In fact, his lack of a shirt almost gets to the Jacob Black-level of ridiculous. For instance, the filmmakers manage to find a way for Efron to be shirtless and wet as he dives into the freezing water to rescue his love interest while one of the supporting characters can be heard yelling out in the background "it's ice cold Charlie, you'll freeze." Hypothermia be damned.
There is nothing about his performance that alludes to promise as a mature actor, but there is nothing that condemns him either. The big problems are created by director Burr Steers, whose past credits include 17 Again and the underrated Igby Goes Down. Steers is desperately trying to create a Nicholas Sparks tear-jerker crossed with The Ghost Whisperer. So be prepared for laughable dialogue, sickly sweet sentiments and more sunsets than you can stomach. Charlie St. Cloud is the kind of film where director Burr Steers cares more about making his leading man look like a Ken doll in a watercolour painting, than key elements like logic or plausibility. Let’s not even start with the necrophilia undertones.
Charlie St. Cloud is out on Thursday, September 23.
Me and Orson Welles is period-dramedy set in 1937, New York and follows high school student and aspiring actor Richard (Zac Efron) who, by a stroke of luck, auditions for a young Orson Welles (Christian McKay) outside the Mercury Theatre and is hired on the spot to perform in his production of Julius Caesar. Once deep within the bedlam of the up and coming play, Richard finds himself attracted to career-driven production assistant Sonja (Claire Danes) and learns more than he wants to about the nature of show business.
This is clearly Efron’s bid to step out from the shadow of the High School Musical franchise and establish himself as more than a chiselled, teen heart-throb with ridiculously shiny hair. He is unsuccessful. As a slick and intelligent young-adult in thirties America, Efron struggles to stay afloat in a sea of more experienced and competent performers. He is supposed to be the heart and emotional focal point of the story, but his performance is largely underwhelming. When he croons and bats his eyelashes at the audience you could swear he has forgotten he is the star of a supposedly mature nostalgia trip and imagines he is back on the steps of an American high school singing to his sweetheart. The usually amiable Danes is equally bland, and her depiction of what could have been a complex, female character is reminiscent of cardboard in the wind.
Setting out to capture the magic of theatre, Me and Orson Welles instead captures the magical performance of Christian McKay (above) who outshines every other aspect of this mildly entertaining romp.