To say that Hereafter begins with a bang would be an understatement. Within the film’s opening minutes, we witness a huge tsunami hit somewhere in South Asia. We see it through the eyes of a French woman on holiday, who gets a near-death experience as she’s swept up in the waters. This is also where we first glimpse this movie’s portrayal of the afterlife, which looks really cool. To my knowledge, this is the first time that director Clint Eastwood has utilized CGI to such a degree and it’s not bad at all.
Too bad the rest of this movie doesn’t measure up to that “wow” opening.
The film is made of three separate storylines, each of which examines the concept of death from a different angle. First and foremost is the story of George Lonnegan, played by Matt Damon. George’s deal is that he’s a psychic, and not one of those con-artist pretenders. He’s the genuine article, capable of contacting the deceased upon skin contact with their loved ones. However, he’s tired of having the dead talk through him and he’s sick of people who are so grief-struck that they come to him with every cent they have instead of going out to live for themselves. What’s more, George’s talent makes him incapable of such normal social behavior as shaking hands. Yet every time George tries to quit the medium business, his brother keeps roping him back in, concerned only with the money to be made.
This storyline is by far the best of the three, simply because Matt Damon is easily the best actor in the movie. He’s got enough pathos to make the character work, but not so much that he comes off as completely heartless. The yearning for a normal life is there, in addition to all the weariness that comes from so much emotional baggage. Unfortunately, he’s not given a whole lot to work with. George says no less than twice that his talent isn’t a gift, but a curse. It’s one cliched line among many, in addition to a second-act exposition dump, but Damon somehow makes it all work. If that’s not a mark of acting quality, I don’t know what is.
Alas, the George storyline — easily more than either of the other two — has quite a few character arcs and plotlines that are abruptly dropped going into the third act. The one I missed most was that of Bryce Dallas Howard, who is simply effervescent here. She’s adorably cute, with just enough grief hiding under the surface, and her chemistry with Damon was very good. Howard is woefully underutilized, with a lot of bad lines and nowhere near enough screen time, but damned if she doesn’t make every moment count.
Our second storyline concerns a young British boy named Marcus, whose twin brother Jacob is killed off by a fatal plot convenience. This is our token character-in-mourning, desperate for consolation and going through all Five Stages of Grief over the course of this movie. Unfortunately, Marcus does some truly reprehensible things in his pursuit for closure. This kid steals, runs away and stalks a person in this movie, all with barely an apology. It might have been possible to make the character sympathetic in spite of this — he’s doing it out of grief, for God’s sake — but the necessary talent to make that happen simply wasn’t there.
The brothers are played by real-life twins Frankie and George McLaren, though hell if I know why Eastwood bothered to cast twins. After all, they barely spend five minutes of screen time together. The McLaren brothers still have their whole careers ahead of them, so I don’t want to hold this against them too much, but still: These kids suck. Their performances here were dreadful. I found myself grateful that Marcus was written to be socially incompetent, because the McLarens show a crippling inability to emote or to read lines. They can cry on cue, but that’s it. Even before the tragic death, we see the brothers talk with each other on the phone and it was painful for me to listen to. Not one line, emotion or inflection in that phone call sounded natural.
Finally, our third storyline is about French reporter Marie LeLay. After her aforementioned near-death experience in the tsunami, Marie keeps flashing back to that moment and becomes obsessed with figuring out what she saw. She even writes a book about it, along with other documented near-death experiences. Marie is played by someone named Cecile de France. She’s passable, but definitely no Bryce Dallas Howard.
The visuals in this movie are horrid. The colors are all limited to shades of blue and green, with all the warm colors entirely bleached out. The whites were far too shiny and contrasted garishly with all the dark colors. The shadows were so dominant in some scenes that it obscured the action completely. I haven’t seen anything like it since Antichrist, and that film was actively trying to be ugly, depressing and uncomfortable.
But the real problem of this movie is the screenplay. Peter Morgan recently confirmed that the screenplay was underdone and it really shows. Watching all of these characters and listening to their dialogue exchanges, I couldn’t help but feel like they were all placeholders. I could almost hear a voice whispering in my ear: “Don’t worry, this is just a rough draft. I’m fixing it up as we speak.” Alas, we’re stuck with two-dimensional characters that no one in the cast — save only for Damon and Howard — can add depth to. We’ve also got a predictable storyline, complete with an audible “clunk” heard when the three storylines forcibly intersect. Peter Morgan is better than this and it’s unfortunate that he now has such a stain on his resume.
Hereafter is a disappointment. The premise is good and the sincerity is there, but it’s buried under too much schmaltz. Clint Eastwood probably has a lot to say on the subject, considering that he’s getting on in years, but he could have and should have said it with a better screenplay, more talented actors and a halfway-decent DoP.
If you’re interested in a film that deals with death, Get Low addressed the matter more competently and thoroughly than Eastwood did here. I heartily recommend you go see that one instead, if you’re able.