What Not to Do to Will Smith.

Seven Pounds-Will Smith, Rosario Dawson





SEE?




There should probably be some basic rules written for Will Smith movies so we don't have anymore mishaps. We, the audience (represented by me), will offer up a basic outline. We don't like to see Will Smith sad. We like to see Mr. Smith cocky, tossing that million dollar smile around like the Pope tosses holy water. Mopey? Guilt-ridden? Suicidal? No, thank you. Not our cuppa Will. We liked him in Ali. He was extraordinary in The Pursuit of Happyness. However, those movies had in their possession a coherent storyline with a beginning, middle and end that took both character and audience on a journey for two hours. (Okay, Ali may have only had a vague timeline and not all the rest of that stuff.) This movie can't even claim that much.



Secondly, we don't confuse "serious acting" with believability. We, the audience, suspect that Mr. Smith was perplexed by the idea that a wealthy, attractive, successful man who causes a tragic accident would be inclined to offer himself up (quite literally) to complete and total strangers as penance for his sins. You shouldn't have to try this hard, Mr. Smith. We don't buy the premise either. It just seems that if you caused the deaths of a bunch of people, you would try to make amends to their families or something. (Are we, the audience, over-thinking this one?)

By the way, we, the audience, know what's coming. Seven Pounds is a mystery that forgets how to be a mysterious. If we, the audience, can figure out the how the movie's gonna end within the first two minutes then something is wrong, and no amount of stylizing or gut-wrenching is going to fix it. Not even our beloved Will Smith can fix it. If the movie had started at the actual beginning of the story, it would have been nearly impossible to shock us at the end. The only way to maintain interest in this story was to make us hope for the happy ending and then drag us to the inevitable conclusion kicking and screaming. Thanks for the creative editing, but we, the audience, still know what's coming which makes it pretty hard to sit through the next hour and fifty-six minutes.

Last complaint-we never want to see Mr. Smith play an asshole (it sure didn't work well in Hancock.) When Will berates Woody Harrelson's blind customer service representative (a rant which should come naturally to anybody who has ever had cable or a cell phone), it's like he can't even fake having an asshole gene. Makes his believability in this role even more suspect. We, the audience, don't ever see how his character has transformed from someone who took life for granted into this repentant, selfless human being willing to give his life for others. As far as we can tell, he was always a nice guy. I mean he is Will Smith after all.) This oversight makes it hard to understand why he must die to make the movie work. (We bet that some poor publicity drone died trying to market this movie though.) Hear us gods of film-"He is friggin' Will Smith; therefore, he should not, by cinematic law, be allowed to die in a movie unless he comes back as a really funny ghost." We, the audience, have spoken.



EAT.





(No "we" here. This will just be me, the sarcastic one.) Vegetarian dog food. No, I didn't know there were vegetarian dogs but in this movie Rosario Dawson's dog is, indeed, not a meat eater. Now, I've seen everything. In order to insure the safe transition of your naturally carnivorous pet into a morally upright animal, visit http://www.helpinganimals.com/ and search under "meatless meals for dogs and cats." Next you'll be telling me there's doggie yoga. What?! Oh, never mind.



SHOP.



Australian box jellyfish. I would assume if you can't buy freakin' Australian Vegemite in the U.S. then these bad boys are also off limits. "Why?" you ask. Don't ask. If you really have to know, then I guess you'll have to see the movie. Good luck with that.