Despite the promised “Seven Pounds” (2008) starring Will Smith, the film reveals its hand in the very first scene. The main character, adopting a mournful demeanor, dials 911 and, in a cracking voice, informs the operator that he has ended his life. Having thus spoiled the punchline, director Muccino spends the next two hours engaging in conspiratorial tactics, attempting to conceal the meaning of the events from the viewer for as long as possible, so that the reason for the protagonist’s suicide becomes clear not in the first minute of the film, but in the last. And he even achieves some success: the meaning becomes clear in the second. For the most obtuse – in the third.
A Waste of Time
Muccino uses these two hours of futile cat-and-mouse games, frankly, without much imagination. All the actions performed by the future suicide victim follow the same routine sequence: Will Smith gets into a Ford car, drives somewhere around Los Angeles, obeying traffic laws (unlike a reckless act in a flashback), and pretends to be a kind tax inspector, engaging in heartfelt conversations with some terminally ill person waiting for an organ transplant. There turn out to be seven such souls in line, needing a kidney, a lung, bone marrow, an eye (a depressingly simplistic Woody Harrelson), or a heart (a depressingly dull Rosario Dawson, responsible for the romantic subplot). Smith, bursting with health, having just finished running around in “Hancock” (2008), seems to have all the listed body parts in place and functioning perfectly. But unless you’re a pervert, a moral degenerate, and dream of organizing an underground clinic for transplanting organs from repentant black men to indigent citizens, it’s best to ignore the subsequent development of events. American cinema has, it seems, never produced a more sanctimonious piece of nonsense than “Seven Pounds” in its entire history (we tried hard to recall something worse, but no, we couldn’t).
Catholicism Meets Scientology?
Apparently, “Seven Pounds” represents an unforeseen fusion of rural Catholicism, embodied by the Italian-born Muccino who has ventured into Hollywood, and advanced Scientology, to which Will Smith has recently been donating large sums of money. As is well known, in Catholic churches, ailing parishioners place plastic arms, legs, and even heads before the altar. The hero of “Seven Pounds” disposes of his possessions in a more, shall we say, scientific way. But, frankly, if Muccino had forced him to change gender, get pregnant, and solemnly refuse an abortion with the blessing of Tom Cruise and the Pope, such a show would have made much more sense than this anatomical charity.
Final Thoughts
The conclusion from this whole drama is this: Will Smith is a decent actor, but not a great one, and seven saved lives are, of course, a lot, but the viewer has only one.