Directed by:
Mark PellingtonScreenplay:
Albert TorresCinematography:
Eric SchmidtComposer:
John FrizzellCast:
Luke Wilson, Radha Mitchell, Adriana Barraza, George Lopez, Morgan Lily, Cheryl Hines, Richard Benjamin, Rachel Seiferth, Beth Grant, Noah Dahl, Gloria Garayua (more)Plots(1)
Henry Poole (Luke Wilson) is a dying man with a mission to spend his final days alone. He relocates to a sparse home in a rundown suburb and makes fast friends with a stash of vodka bottles, but the solitude just won't stick; every neighbor on the block wants to befriend the newly arrived curmudgeon. Most persistent is Esperanza (Adrianna Barrazza), an energetic woman who comes to Henry's house to salve her own tragic connection to it, but stays when she sees a stain on the wall that appears to be the face of Jesus. Despite Henry's pleas (and angry missives) to the contrary, word of the miracle spreads, and the solitude-seeking Henry is soon under siege: Esperanza brings by her priest (George Lopez); recently divorced Dawn (Radha Mitchell) shows up with Millie, her silently emotive little girl (Morgan Lilly); and even a prying grocery store clerk makes a visit to the world's least likely shrine. With each passing pilgrim, the conversation about hope and the renewing properties of belief grows louder, until even Henry cannot resist being moved. He may not yet accept Jesus, but he just may begin to accept the message of love. What Pellington leaves ambiguous about the "miracle" of the stain he makes up for with a resounding celebration of the miracle of human connection and the uplifting power of compassion. (official distributor synopsis)
(more)Reviews (1)
For a sympathetic misanthrope, a life skeptic who prioritizes reason over emotions, and a stubborn atheist, this film represents the same symbol as a concentration camp for human rights defenders. With eyes widened in horror, I watched the influx of positive energy, love, and divine grace. I felt like a cowboy who, after a tiresome anabasis in the Midwest while herding cattle, comes to Kolaloka bar instead of the Trigger Whiskey Saloon, where I was served by members of the Salvation Army and preached to about God's grace. And it could have been worse. The more luck, love, and miracles condensed on the screen, the stronger the feeling grew in me that a dance festival was taking place on my testicles and Hannibal Lecter was toying with the rest of my body. With the closing credits, I felt relief like a traveler in the Sahara when they see an oasis in the distance. Overall impression: 25% for the acting.
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