Movie review: P.S. I Love You

by John P. Meyer

I was worried when I noticed that the runtime for P.S. I Love You, the new film from The Fisher King scripter and Freedom Writers writer/director Richard LaGravenese, was 126 minutes; I simply couldn't imagine a romantic comedy sustaining itself for that length of time, nor could I imagine filmgoers sustaining their interest in it.

It turns out my misgivings were justified.

What is one to make of a story line in which the actions of the lead character (Holly Kennedy, played by the talented and gorgeous Hilary Swank) are orchestrated by an ongoing series of letters from her deceased husband, delivered to her over a period of several months by some unknown agency? Much, director LaGravenese would have us believe.

Holly's husband Gerry - who we encounter briefly in real-time at the beginning of the film, and then periodically through flashbacks as the movie progresses - is played by Gerard Butler, late of 300. Still sporting the Conan-esque thews he developed in preparation for the Sparta saga, Mr. Butler here finds himself transported from the field of bloody battle to the tepid shores of Chickflickville, where he has an opportunity to wallow in Irish brogue (though Mr. Butler actually hails from Scotland) and display his lovey-dovey domesticity while wearing what appears to be a chain-link choke-collar. At one point, in the midst of a marital spat, he comically checks to see whether his balls still exist, and we in the audience sympathize. In essence, Gerry is a happy-go-lucky caricature of an Irish rake who has been housebroken by the lovely but aimless lass he met and married a decade hence when she visited his Emerald-hued homeland on college vacation.

What stretches the imagination is the prescient being he transforms into on the point of death: his letter-sourced life-lesson campaign seems worthy of a master tactician or perhaps a swami-level guru, leaving one to wonder why he didn't unleash some of this relational wisdom while still fit and functional. (Perhaps it's the gravitas of having one's messages delivered from beyond the grave that lends them such unusurpable credence.)

Regardless, this is the movie realm we are required to inhabit (if we choose to remain in the theater, which one of my fellow critics did not - perhaps he received an urgent note from a deceased loved one?) and so we persevere. Making the effort worthwhile are a range of entertaining supporting characters, some admittedly adroit dialog and yet another bravura performance by Ms. Swank, who I'd be pleased to watch reciting lines from the county tax code. (During one scene in which she's spent several weeks closeted in her apartment coming to grips with the death of her husband, Holly immerses herself in classic cinema and bursts forth with her best Judy Garland - which turns out to be pretty dang good.)

The supporting characters mentioned include Gina Gershon (as Holly's worldly-wise friend Sharon), Lisa Kudrow (as Holly's goofy friend Denise, fond of subjecting prospective boyfriends to the lingual third degree), Kathy Bates (in an uncharacteristic and thus much appreciated low-key performance as Holly's mom) and Harry Connick Jr. (as prospective new love interest Daniel, who exhibits a sad but amusing proclivity for plain-spokenness).

On the down-bound side of this tear-jerking feel-good train are the rather bizarre and demonstrably wrong-headed life lessons hitching a ride in the baggage compartment. These include: a) it's O.K. to have babies when you can't afford them; b) there's nothing wrong with succumbing to peer pressure sex; c) a horny guy will reject a hot babe just because the kissing isn't spectacular; and, worst of all, d) it's O.K. to pour 12-year-old Jameson Irish whiskey onto the counter top if you can derive a good laugh from it.

Oh, and e) all Irish dudes have gifts of irrepressible gab, play the guitar, sing like nightingales and are God's gifts to sexually-repressed American women. (It's probably no coincidence that the film's promoters placed Irish travel brochures on the lobby tables at the entrance to the screening auditorium - and that women scooped them up greedily on the way out of the theater.)

MOST HILARIOUS SIGHT GAG: Holly's ill-fated karaoke performance

YEAH, WELL, IT PRETTY MUCH IS: "This may seem a little morbid." - Gerry's recorded words on his mini-cassette transcription from beyond the grave

CATCH 22: "I think I repel the women that I want the most." - Daniel to Holly

INTERNET CHALLENGED, EH?: "It's been a long time since I've seen a man that naked." - Holly to William (Jeffrey Dean Morgan), a hunky Irish bar singer

TRUTH-SEEKER SHE'S NOT: "I didn't come here for you to give me some bullshit honest answer." - Holly to her mom